I walk down the stairs in an attempt to clear my thoughts, and nobody follows me. I’m sure I won’t get a letter of recommendation from any of my superiors to find a new job. They’re all sick of me reporting my coworkers for bad behavior, and they’ve just been looking for a reason to get rid of me. This is the perfect chance.
I walk all the way to the first floor, then loop around the building. At the end of one hall is a thick wooden door, one I haven’t seen before. It’s not like I’ve had much of a chance to explore this massive building. It’s only eleven in the morning, so maybe Kenneth, the man who runs the building, is in. I can ask him for anything I could possibly use to bring Eve in.
I knock on the door gently. The desk in the little waiting area is empty. Possibly Thompson’s desk? When the door opens, though, I run right into Eve. When my eyes fall to the office, the smile falls right off her face.
“Eve,” I say. “What are you doing in Kenneth’s office?”
She watches me, but she doesn’t answer. I study the room behind her. Technically, my warrant covers the whole building. I was only really supposed to search her apartment, but this could be my chance. I hand her the piece of paper and push past her.
“Don’t—“ she says, reaching out when I grab an open leather planner off the mahogany desk. I prick an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t step closer. I expected more of a fight from her.
I flip through it, gloves still on from searching her apartment, and in a small hand-written note at the back, it simply says, Kill Kenneth. Take back the building.
Thompson had seemed flustered when I asked him where Kenneth was the first time. Despite calling a few times, I haven’t met the supposed building owner.
“Eve, where is Kenneth Parsons?” I ask, my voice low and slow.
She takes a step back like she’s going to run. My body tenses, so ready for a chase. I’ve had such a shitty week that I would love to take her down if I have to. She freezes. “That feels like a rhetorical question.”
Kenneth Parsons was never reported missing, but I found other information about him from a decade ago. A child abuse case that was quickly dropped. If Thompson was that child, then it wouldn’t have been too difficult for him to lie to me if it kept the truth hidden. Information forms in my head. Richard Pace used to own the building, and then he was murdered, although nobody was convicted. Eve was registered as a resident of Texas until she returned in May. Kenneth Parsons was never reported missing, but nobody has seen or spoken to him in months.
“Eve Pace, you’re under arrest for the murder of Kenneth Parsons,” I say.
It’s all circumstantial, but I bet I could get her to confess. With a confession, I can book her. There will be plenty of time for the solid evidence later, but my gut is certain. Eve, and possibly Thompson, killed Kenneth Parsons.
Eve doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to run. Instead, voice low, she says, “Anything I may or may not have done, I did alone.” Her jaw sets as she waits for my response.
I guess we’ll have an understanding, then. If I take her in, the rest of them are safe. Can I risk it? There wasn’t crime in this building before she arrived. If I book her, the real kingpin of this whole operation, it will likely stop.
“It was only you,” I say. She holds up her hands in front of herself.
“Eve Pace, you have the right to remain silent,” I say.
“Eve, no!” a man shouts from the hallway. I recognize him as her boyfriend, Anderson. She gives him the tiniest shake of her head.
“Take care of them,” she says. “It’ll be okay.” After a pause, she says, “Also, my dad’s lawyer is listed in his planner. Maybe call him.”
I put the slip of paper in a plastic evidence bag. It will be the first part of building my real case. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney.”
Despite knowing that Eve killed the previous building owner, I can’t help but get a sick feeling growing in my gut as I read her rights. She doesn’t fight, doesn’t argue.
She’s clearly trying to keep others safe. How many were involved in this whole thing?
I don’t want to know. There are hundreds of eyes on us as I help her into the back of my assigned squad car. I don’t bother turning the lights on. It’s already a scene.
“Eve,” a little girl cries, the one from the courthouse yesterday. She’s being held back by Freya, the woman who won custody over the two girls that stand beside her on the sidewalk.
“I’ll be okay,” Eve promises, a teary smile on her face. “I’m just going for a fun ride.”
The little girl grabs onto Freya’s leg, and Freya herself looks totally shell-shocked. Thompson comes up behind her and puts a hand onto her shoulder, and a tear falls from her eye. Anderson laces his hand through Thompson’s, so I guess that theory was correct. They’re all in some sort of poly relationship, although Eve seems to be at the center of it all.
“Promise you’ll keep an eye on them,” Eve says when I get in the driver’s seat. It takes a moment for me to realize she’s talking to me.
“What do you mean?” I ask, keeping my emotions carefully steady.
“They were dying before I came. I don’t know what would’ve happened if Kenneth had stayed in charge, but it was a lot worse than anything you could possibly understand.” She breathes in a shaky breath, then continues, “Just make sure they’re okay.”
I shouldn’t agree to this. She’s a criminal. A murderer. Still, I nod.
“I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Eve
I am fully aware that tonight is a full moon. Natasha seems nervous about bringing me in, and I raise my lip and half growl when her coworker makes a sexist comment about me.
“Shut the fuck up,” she tells him. “Don’t you have some chlamydia to treat?”
I snicker a little as his face turns bright red. “Who’s the perp, anyway?” he asks.
“Nunya,” Natasha replies. If I weren’t so stressed, I’d really enjoy how much she despises this guy.
“Middle Eastern?” he asks, reaching for my file on the desk, but Natasha snatches it away before he can touch it. I can’t believe he fell for the oldest response in the book.
“Nunya Business,” she replies.
Okay, so I sort of understand why she’s always so angry when she sees me. I’d be pissy if I had to deal with this guy all day, too. At least in the pack, I can just kick some ass and be left alone. That’s not how the human world works, though.
I lean toward Natasha. She’s seemed conflicted all afternoon, so maybe she’ll listen to me on this.
“Natasha, I need a favor,” I say, low enough that her coworker doesn’t hear me.
Her eyes flick to me and then back to her computer. “Oh?” she asks, feigning nonchalance.
“I need to be put somewhere private overnight. Just tonight.”
She turns to look at me, amusement written all over her face. “Is that so?”
I grind my teeth. I need to be less of an asshole if she’s going to listen to me. “Please. I promise there’s a good reason for it.”
The moment the moon rises, I’ll be forced to shed my human skin and take my wolf form. If people were to see it, the whole pack would be in danger.
The worst part is, I currently have to trust Natasha, a near stranger, to do what I need.
“Why would I do that?” she asks.
My hands tense. “Please,” I whisper, my voice straining.
She shakes her head, but then sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She takes me to the holding cell, assuring me that she’ll try finding me a private place. My skin rises in goosebumps as the afternoon draws to evening. I sit on a bench with my arms braced against my knees.
I don’t have much longer.
Natasha
I don’t know why she’s so desperate, but it’s not like I can just leave her unattended. She’d let me take her in fairly quick
ly, but maybe she’s having second thoughts. I knock on the Captain’s door frame, and he pauses the YouTube video he’s watching on his break.
“Captain, I’m gonna have to stay late to interrogate a suspect,” I say. “Can I have one of the interrogation rooms?”
With an annoyed sigh, he says, “Fine. But you’re not getting overtime.”
Fine by me, I want to bite back. I text my roommate to feed and water Jasmine. If there’s something so wrong that Eve absolutely needs a private room, this will have to do. I don’t even know why I’m going out of my way for her. She’s done nothing but lie and evade me to this point, but there’s something about her that makes me feel bad.
I go back to the holding cell, where her arms are trembling. “Eve Pace,” I say, using my most official voice. She looks up, her eyes pained and features drawn. Is she sick or something? Is this like one of those scifi movies where she’s actually a bomb because of microbots in her blood?
That’s ridiculous. There’s no such thing. “I need you to come with me,” I say.
She stands up and walks toward me, the relief on her face palpable.
When we get into the interrogation room, the camera blinking in the corner, she sits at the metal chair, eyeing everything suspiciously. Her nostrils flare like she’s taking in every scent, which is mostly mildew and maybe a little piss in this old and crappy police station.
“You can’t tell anyone what you see in here,” she says, her voice strained as the clock ticks down the minutes.
I cross my arms. “What, is the full moon making you nuts?” I laugh, then continue. “I really don’t believe in all that astrology bullshit.”
A short, breathy laugh comes out of her, almost like a cough. Her body shivers.
“Do you need a blanket?” Or medication? She could be overdosing, or maybe having withdrawals? I’ve never known them to come on so quickly, but this could be a special case.
She shakes her head. “Just promise not to tell anyone.”
She’s so serious that I nod. Definitely withdrawals, then. I don’t want to upset her, so I lean in the corner of the room. We don’t have one-way glass, just these little concrete rooms with a single security camera to the side.
I glance at my phone after a while. Nearly eight-thirty, and she isn’t looking any better. “I should get you some water,” I say, about to open the door, but she shakes her head.
“I’m okay,” she says. “I’m just—“
Her words are cut off by choking, and the skin around her eyes darkens significantly. Is she going to throw up? I glance at her clenched fist, but the skin there is turning a gray-black, too. What the fuck?
Before I can ask what’s going on, something impossible happens. Maybe I’m hallucinating, or still asleep. That’s probably it, because there is no fucking way that I’m watching a woman’s bones crack and shift until she’s no longer a woman, but a black wolf that’s bigger than any dog I’ve ever seen.
I half expect her to attack, but instead, she slinks over to the corner below the camera, watching me warily.
When I don’t wake up and nothing else crazy happens, I open my mouth. “Eve?” I breathe.
She responds with a huff, then lowers her head. Her eyes are still that vivid green color. It’s definitely her, but how is this possible?
Werewolves don’t exist. This isn’t goddamn Twilight, for Christ’s sake! I take a step forward, and she doesn’t move.
“This isn’t real,” I whisper. Her body is perfectly still, and I search for any sign of movement as I approach, but there’s nothing. This is why she needed a private space.
Suddenly, her ears prick forward and her entire body twists toward the door. Is she trying to escape? She doesn’t have thumbs to open the knob. Then, I hear it. Yelling and screaming. Someone is being hurt. Is it a fight in holding?
I run out of the room without a second thought, leaving the door wide open. Probably a bad idea, but I’m not sure that a physical wolf could escape the building, anyway.
When I run into the bullpen, it’s mostly abandoned, except there are two men in the holding cell. One is on the ground, covering his head with his hands and whimpering. At a closer look, he’s not a man. Just a kid. Detective Foster is standing over him, baton in hand.
“Foster, what the hell are you doing?” I ask.
The kid whimpers again, and a soft, “Please,” comes out of his lips.
“This punk needs to learn to respect some fucking authority,” Foster says, raising his nightstick once again.
Abso-fucking-lutely not. I sprint across the room and tear the cell door open, but before I can reach my coworker to take away his weapon, a black blur leaps out from behind me and takes him to the ground by his arm, snarling as he screams.
I look at the kid, whose eyes widen when he peeks around his arm. I don’t really know what to do about a pissed-off werewolf, but it’s clear that the kid is in more danger in the cell than out. I help him to his feet, and he cries out when my hand touches his ribs. What did John do to him?
I drag him away, locking us both in the Captain’s office.
A moment later, the wolf sprints out of the cell, blood on her muzzle. She heads for the stairs, and I let her go. After that, I don’t want to get between her and her goal.
Is this how she killed Kenneth?
Did she just kill John?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Natasha
John isn’t dead, but he is bleeding. Honestly, though, it’s not even that much blood. He’s babbling about the wolf attacking him, trying to kill him, but the small punctures on his forearm tell a different story. They’re barely scratches. In fact, it could easily be mistaken for a simple fall.
“You’re fine,” I say, and he hisses as I put a bandaid on the injury. Is he going to turn into a werewolf now? That’s a horrifying prospect. John as a supernatural creature with extra strength and probably some other powers would be a danger to the city. John as a normal person is a danger to the city.
“The wolf. Where’s the wolf?” he asks, spinning his head to search, as if Eve is just hiding under a desk or something, waiting to come after him again.
I pause. What would happen if others saw the security footage and went after Eve? The others in her relationship would also be in danger, and maybe more. How many people are actually werewolves? I can’t be the first person to discover their existence. Are they going to kill me next? The way Eve had seemingly trusted me not to tell anyone, though…
“What wolf?” I ask. Maybe gaslighting my coworker isn’t the best move, but I just caught him beating the shit out of some kid he arrested. How many other times has this happened and been covered up?
He gives a smirk, but he’s still clearly in shock. “The fucking giant wolf that attacked me,” he says.
I shake my head. “You were beating the hell out of that kid, and you tripped. You must have hit your head.”
Damage control, damage control. The moment he walks out of here, I’m deleting every second of security footage from the past twenty-four hours. It will be easy enough to cover up. This department has been doing it for years.
“I’m calling you an ambulance,” I say. The kid he’d been beating is still here, but I don’t know if he has health insurance to cover an ambulance ride.
John shakes his head. “Nat, you saw it,” he strains, panicking now. Good. Fuck him.
I shake my head. “I saw you fall. You scraped your arm on the bench in the holding cell.”
He hangs his head, his face stricken, but he’s clearly given up on talking to me. I dial 911.
“I need an ambulance to the Center-West Precinct,” I say to the operator. “One of our detectives seems to have hit his head and is showing signs of concussion.”
“There was a wolf,” he insists, his voice barely a whisper now. Right now, my job is to get him and the kid out of here. Then, I can deal with whatever the fuck is going on with Eve. Subtly, I log into the security system on my phon
e and delete the past twenty-four hours of footage from the whole building.
The ambulance arrives shortly after, and the teenager denies a ride to the hospital.
“I’ll drive you,” I insist, “but it looks like you have some broken ribs. If you want to press charges against Detective Foster, though, I’d be happy to take your statement. What’s your name?”
“Henry,” he says, his voice distant and breathing uneven.
Fuck John. In fact, fuck this whole department, this whole system. I am so tired of making it my job to hurt people who are just trying to make it through the day. I don’t get paid enough for the emotional distress I’m forced to put others through just to keep my job.
After getting ahold of Henry’s mom, I drive him to the hospital, waiting in the emergency room until she arrives. I talk to her about pressing charges, handing her my card, and she assures me that they’ll be coming in to talk to me when he gets out of the hospital.
“No need,” I say. “I’d be happy to come by and take your statements, and I will be glad to testify on your side in court.” Again, fuck John. He should be in jail for his behavior, but every person along the way has always acted like his behavior is somehow acceptable.
When I walk out of the hospital, I’m shocked to see that the sun is rising.
I pull out my phone and check the time. Will she have made it back by now?
Only one way to find out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eve
Not only did I transform in front of a human, but I attacked one. There are three witnesses to my actions. I may be out of jail for now, but I’ve endangered everyone even more than I thought. I storm into the apartment, and all three of my mates, plus Anna and Poppy, are there. Their eyes widen when they see me, but I storm past into the bedroom. I grab a duffel bag out of the closet and start slamming clothes in.
“Eve?” Thompson asks, his voice careful. I don’t so much as glance over my shoulder at him. If I see the pity in their eyes, I’ll break. I have one goal right now, and I have to stay focused on it.
Wolf Queen Page 10
