by Mason Sabre
“We are well aware of the ability to conceal a pregnancy,” Aaron said, his eyes locking with his brother’s for just a second, but it was enough to make the intent behind his words clear. Until that moment, Cade had believed Aaron hadn't known about Connor, or Gemma … Obviously, he had been very wrong. “Is it possible she planned to have a euthanasic execution?”
Euthanasic execution—the cover word for murder in Cade’s eyes, abortion to others.
“Jess wouldn’t have done that,” shot Angela. “I know her.”
Aaron nodded sympathetically. “With all due respect, Angela, you didn’t even know she was pregnant, and I am sure that two days ago, you would have sworn to us that Jessica wouldn’t have done that, either. Especially as the baby wasn’t going to be pure—”
Malcolm got to his feet and held up a hand “I am sure that Jessica’s intentions for her child will not bring justice to whom is responsible.”
“It would if the person who did it was the father,” Aaron insisted.
“We don’t know that, either,” said Cade. “And speculation isn’t going to solve this.” He faced Malcolm again. “May I continue?”
With a nod, he sat back down.
Flicking to the back pages, Cade paused and looked at Angela. “I am sure that you want to follow every step of this investigation, but I ask you, just for now, that perhaps you would like to take a break. Some things, I think, are not for a parent’s eyes or ears.”
“I have a right to be here,” she said stonily. “I—”
Cade nodded, but the next page had photographs and outlines of what had been done to her daughter. He hadn't handed those out … yet. “Of course you do, and if this were my child, I would want to be here, too … However, there are some things that can never be unseen.” He leant on the table. “Maybe it is better for you to keep your cherished memories of her intact. Remember her as she was when she left the house, and not this …”
Everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath to see what Angela would do. Her gaze swept across the tables, and then, with her back straight and chin held high, she slowly rose from her seat.
Emily jumped to her feet and quickly crossed to where the other woman stood, taking her hand in her own. “We will take a break in the kitchen,” she said lightly. “Perhaps make something for you all to drink.”
“Thank you,” Cade said, and waited until they had left the room and were out of hearing range before continuing. The main door between the meeting room and Malcolm’s usual office wasn’t closed, but it would be virtually impossible for the sound to travel all the way to the back of the house, even with shifter hearing.
Cade cleared his throat and took a drink, letting his gaze fall on Gemma’s lowered head for a split second.
Flicking the page over, he pulled out the copies of sketches. He didn’t want to give them the actual photographs to look at, unless they actually asked to see them. He spread them out on the centre of the table. “Someone removed the baby from Jessica’s womb and then placed it on the ground beside her.” He pointed at the sketch. “Someone also removed her heart and placed that on the other side.”
Horrified murmurs and whispers filled the room. Trevor frowned and slid the real photographs over toward himself. The largest one was a wide angle of the room. “Someone laid her out like this?”
“Yes. I believe they were making a statement. It’s too perfect to have just been casually put there.”
Aaron tossed his copy of the file onto the table and rocked back in his chair, one leg crossed, ankle resting on his knee. “Perhaps she was going to terminate the pregnancy and then changed her mind? Maybe they agreed it was what she would do. Then the father decided he didn’t want a walking talking execution warrant ready to come out at any time.” He looked at the men around the table. “Wouldn’t you want to get rid of it?”
“You mean he—”
“I mean he killed her to save his own skin.”
Cade’s brows knit together. “Then why the statement?”
“Someone would have been alerted if she had booked a termination,” Malcolm cut in.
“Not if it was under a fake name,” Gemma said, making all eyes turn to look at her. “Besides, would you all really kill an innocent girl to save your own skins?”
Trevor scoffed. “Clearly, she wasn’t that innocent.”
Gemma gave Trevor a cold stare, clearly unamused by his cruel words.
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his daughter, and quite unexpectedly, he pushed Stephen’s chair out of the way and grabbed hold of her chin. “What happened to your face?” he demanded.
Cade held his breath, waiting to see if she would give her father any answer.
“I slipped,” she said.
Malcolm moved his hand, forcing her head to a better angle, then let go. “We will talk about this later,” he said stiffly, and then turned back to Cade. “Aside from Daniel, is there anyone else Jessica kept company with? Michael?”
“And Evie. I need to speak to them both.”
“Perhaps you can speak to Michael first,” Trevor said. “Before accusing your brother of things he hasn’t done.”
“I am not accusing anyone of anything. I will speak to Daniel. Just because—”
“Enough.” Malcolm said authoritatively. “I understand that there are a lot of emotions in this. I, for one, am deeply saddened by the loss of Jessica, but I suggest we take a break and come back when Cadence is ready. That will give him time to talk to her friends and secure her records?”
Cade nodded.
“Good. This is closed for now.” His gaze focused on Gemma once more. “I will see you in my office. Stay behind.”
Chapter 21
Gemma
Headlights sent a beam of light rippling through Malcolm’s dark office as Gemma stood waiting for him by the window. She stared out at the stream of cars leaving the Davies’ residence, a bobbing of lights that disappeared at the end of the lane. She sucked in a shaky breath, her heart heavy. Cade had left without a word to her, without even a glance her way. He’d never done that before. Not in all the fights they’d ever had. He hadn't been able to get out of there fast enough, she thought. He’d picked up his papers, said goodbye to his mother and marched out of the room.
She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked lightly on the balls of her feet. If she could take back the words she had uttered to him … Would she, though? If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the touch of him against her skin, his hands … his mouth. She could taste him, smell him. He was part of every little thing that made her whole.
She pulled at the skin at the side of her nail, waiting for Malcolm to come and start his interrogation of her. If this damned meeting had been a day later, the bruise would have faded enough that her father wouldn’t have seen it. It didn’t really matter, though. What could he do or say that would hurt her more than the way Cade had left….
Malcolm came into the office as the last car rolled out of the driveway. With only a casual glance her way, he went to his desk with his coffee mug and papers. He set them down, then picked up his glasses from the shelf above him. Lifting them to the light, he inspected them carefully and then took out a cloth to clean the lenses.
“What happened to your face?” he asked when he finally slipped his glasses on. He looked at her with green eyes so much like her own, except his were deeper, more like Stephen’s. Sometimes, she could imagine it was Stephen she was looking at.
“I fell,” she said with a careless shrug of her shoulders.
Malcolm nodded at that. “Of course.” He sat down in his chair and leant back. “There is a pack run next weekend if you remember.”
“I do.”
“Yes. The whole pack will be in attendance. Perhaps I need to remind you that the punishment for dishonesty is restriction from partaking in such events?” He raised his brow, looking at her over the top of his glasses. “You do remember what it feels like not to be allowed to shif
t?”
Oh, she did. She remembered very well. Years ago, she had been sentenced to a night in the cage with a collar around her neck to stop her from shifting. She remembered how Stephen had come and helped them … how Stephen was supposed to be dead right now. “I remember,” she said tightly.
He picked up his mug, holding it between his hands, and it was then that Gemma realised something. This was what her father did. The way he moved, held things, distracted himself so he wouldn’t show any emotion. It was a surprising revelation and one that threw her.
“Cadence left quickly tonight.”
“He has work to do,” she said quickly before the pang in her chest had a chance to betray her. “He’s had a long day.”
“He’s had long days before.”
Yes. Gemma knew what he was implying, but she shrugged instead. It was fake, inside and out. She couldn’t deny the way it tore at her. She made herself sit down on her father’s sofa so she wouldn’t fidget or make uneasy movements that would give away the devastation that burned inside. She was bereft with so much pain she wasn’t sure what to do. It echoed deep in her soul. “Things change. That’s all.” She fixed her eyes on him, determined to show him that she was strong. He stared at her, his gaze seeming to penetrate her soul. She shifted uneasily in her seat, and her eyes faltered. The problem with Malcolm was that he could read people. Not the way Stephen had been able to—his had been some kind of uncanny ability to know things he shouldn’t have known. But her father … he was a master at seeing through people.
“I can smell him on you like the markings of a stray dog,” he said icily, and when Gemma’s eyes widened, he added, “Not enough that anyone else can, but it is there. What if it had been someone else? What if Trevor had got close enough to you that he could tell what you had been doing. Cade is set to be mated, Gemma. What the hell are you doing?”
Mated … Her father might as well have punched her in the gut. “Father, I’m—”
He sighed. “Do not insult me with worthless apologies. Did you not learn your lesson the last time? You cannot mix the species. You cannot force nature. What you and Cade are doing has to stop. Do you hear me? If it doesn’t, you give me no choice. I am the alpha of this pack, the alpha to the Society, and here you are, my daughter,” he spat out the word, “running around and screwing someone else’s potential. Being my daughter is the only reason I haven’t already had you executed.” He leant forward and pierced her with a stare. “But do not test me.”
Gemma could only stare at him. He didn’t feel like her father right now, and not because of the threat to her life, but because he seemed different, angrier.
“At the pack meeting, you are forbidden to shift.”
“Father …”
He shook his head. “No. You push me, Gemma. Always. You force me to do things I don’t want to do. Enough now. You have broken enough. I would have thought losing your child would have been enough to stop you.”
Pain lanced through her, and she looked down, not wanting her father to see the hurt that would be clearly etched across her face. If he was trying to hit every vulnerable spot she had, he’d managed it with perfect aim. “I wear the collar again?” she asked coldly after a few minutes had passed. “How long in the cage?” She tried not to, choke on the memories. The cage wasn’t just a place to dread and fear—it was death. She almost hadn't made it the last time, and she was sure as hell she wouldn’t make it this time. She’d had Cade before, and Stephen.
Now, she was completely alone.
“You misunderstand me,” he said, meeting her eyes fiercely, his expression determined. “You are coming to the pack meeting, but you will not shift.”
She shot out of her seat. “You will make me stand and watch? That’s impossible. You can't—” Adrenaline pumped through her at the mere thought. She couldn’t be around them, hear them, see them, and then hold off her shift. “I just ...”
“What do you think the punishment will be for Cade if his father were to find out what you did today?”
“Please ...”
“You and I both know that Cade is not his father’s most favourite child.” That was an understatement. Trevor hated his son. Hated him enough to try and kill Phoenix, the half-breed Cade was mentally attached to. It would have killed Cade, too.
“Please don’t do this.” She wanted to scream at him … not just at him, but the injustice of everything.
Malcolm rose from his seat, and Gemma took an instinctive step back. “This is your doing, not mine.”
“You're going to make me stand and watch and fight what my body will try to do naturally?”
“Yes. Maybe a lesson in self-control wouldn’t go amiss.” They were both quiet for a moment as Malcolm walked around the room. He trailed long fingers across the mantle and the window ledge as he did until he was standing in front of her. “After the pack meet, you will pack up your things and come home. Your mother and I will enter into a search for suitable tigers for you. It is time now for you to step up and take the responsibility that has been handed to you and to stop acting like a spoilt child.”
“You're making me come back home?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head slowly, taking another step back.
“You give me no choice. Perhaps here, where I can see you, maybe you will abide by the laws set in place.”
Gemma’s pulse skyrocketed at the idea of coming home, the idea of them picking her mate. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, igniting her fury. “What about you? When do you face your punishment?”
Malcolm narrowed his eyes at her, clearly unpleased at her tone.
“You stand here telling me what I can and can't do, yet you do the exact same as me. Why was it that you insisted you go to Angela’s to tell her about Jessica? You are doing the same as me and you know it—”
“Enough.” Her father’s eyes glittered with rage.
“No.” She couldn’t stop herself. It was all like a big ball of frustration inside her chest that she needed to get out. “I saw you. I saw how you were. You call yourself my father, and then you’re out there doing the same as me. You’re no better. You punish me when you are screwing—”
The back of Malcolm’s hand connected with Gemma’s cheek, making her stumble backwards and her hand fly to her face. “I said enough.”
Her cheek seemed to be on fire as she pressed a palm to the abused flesh. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them back as she stared at her father in disbelief. Tamping down the fury that had flared, she straightened her shoulders and stared him straight in the eye. “May I shift between now and then?”
If he was sorry for hitting her, he didn’t show it. “You may shift tonight, then not again until after the full moon.”
“Thank you,” she bit out.
Malcolm simply nodded and went back to his desk, leaving her to stare at his back and fight every impulse she and her tiger had to fight back. He was her alpha … She couldn’t.
As he went back to the file and flipped it open, Gemma closed her eyes and forced calming breaths into her body. How had her father become this way? He had always been stern, perhaps strict, but he had never been mean before. Not in this way. But then, she had never slept with another species, or carried their child. “I’m sorry,” she whispered finally, suddenly feeling totally defeated. The apology wasn’t just for Malcolm; it was to them all.
He didn’t move or look at her, even though he had definitely heard her. He was tiger—it was impossible he hadn’t caught her words. When she got no response, she headed for the door, but paused as she reached it. Henry’s words echoed in her ears, and she knew they’d forever torment her if she didn’t ask.
She turned back, her eyes staring at the back of his chair as he faced the wall, still studying the file in his hands. “Are you sure Stephen is dead?”
Usually, Malcolm was good at controlling his emotions, but his guard must have been down, because he stiffened at her question. “Are y
ou questioning my word?” he asked, his back still to her.
“I am just asking you a question.”
He turned in his chair then, pulling his glasses off as he did. “What reason is there to ask?”
Even though the door was still closed, Gemma lowered her voice. She didn’t want her mother or sister to overhear. “You never talk about him,” she said. “Nothing. Not a word.”
“There is no need.”
“He is your son …”
Malcolm nodded slowly. “Yes. But he is no longer here. I suggest you go and have your shift and keep out of things you don’t understand.”
Maybe she would have, but Malcolm’s tone was all off. He was the master of poker face, but right now, he seemed more open than ever. “How can you punish me for dishonesty when you, yourself, cannot even tell me the truth. He is my brother. How can you know he is alive and still lead me to believe he is dead?”
Her father rose from his seat. “I did not say he was alive.”
Gemma stood her ground as her father came closer, refusing to back away. He could hit her again if it made him feel better, but one thing was certain: Henry had been telling the truth. She was suddenly as sure of it as if she had just seen him with her own two eyes.
“Stephen is dead,” Malcolm said rigidly when he was standing in front of her.
“Stephen Davies is dead?” she repeated, the doubt clear in her voice.
“Yes.”
Her eyes stayed locked with his for a moment. Her father was an intelligent man. He knew how to use words well … and she knew it. “Maybe Stephen Davies is dead, but what about my brother? Your son? Is he dead?”
“Gemma …”
“Tell me the truth.”
Malcolm took another breath, long and hard, his nostrils flaring. “There are decisions I have to make sometimes—you will have to make them one day—not everyone agrees with them….”
“You're not answering me.”
“Perhaps it is wise that you don’t ask things you do not have an understanding of. I do not want to hear about Stephen again.”
