by Dakila Reed
For some reason, the sudden hammering of his heart in his chest left him completely immobile. He couldn't scent the air, the earth. Nothing. He couldn't even feel his feet and hands. He sucked his breath. He ran for air. He tried to shove the key back into the slot but with hands and frozen fingers, he failed and failed to turn it open.
In the middle of panic, he looked around. Empty save for the cars. Empty save for the scattered trees. Empty save from the sun baking him. The blast of mixed music from the food expo sounded coming from a faraway land instead.
The man stopped a few feet away. His blood pounding in his temples, Skye swallowed.
Slowly, the stranger tipped his umbrella. It gave Skye the first glimpses of the newcomer’s identity. The rigidness in his body vaporized. The scent of lavender calmed him down. With a sigh, Skye felt his legs almost give out like jelly from relief.
Did I make a mistake?
Rustom stared at the numbers in front of him, unable to make a meaning. The sound of some man talking and explaining something was a blur of alien noise. His mind was completely torn in half. The one struggling to focus with the ongoing meeting. The other, unable to get past the sight of a quiet Skye staring at him.
"...please understand if I wanted some time for myself."
It was so hard looking at Skye that night. He looked so... defeated. All this time Skye was hoping for a friendship to go so much more. And that much more to go even further. The number he'd boasted and talked about Reece in front of Skye, and the latter just smiling and nodding, still genuinely interested, transformed into something else. That Skye was still there listening to him, already fine with him being happy when inside Skye he was hurting. And somehow that was... not right.
He abhorred that the reason Skye even had to take a break from the life he loved as a teacher was him.
Since then, Rustom couldn't shake the idea that something was amiss. That something was terribly not right and it was seriously breaking his rhythm.
"This study by the Internal Revenue Bureau shows that..."
Rustom narrowed his eyes at the figures on the screen. He found himself reaching for his phone that had started to vibrate on the long oval table. He quickly scrolled down to his emails from one of his betas, sending still very little information about this Regem Wayne. Not long into the email, his phone vibrated with another notification from Reece reminding him that the supreme alpha of Sierra Gena, Reece's dad, wanted to set-up a meeting with him.
He fought the urge to groan. The instant flood of messages into his inbox, this Regem Wayne, and whatever the hell Skye was doing at the moment, all were causing him a headache. Not to mention the dreary figures still promptly appearing one slide after another as the presenter in front continued with his talk.
Rustom was in a district meeting about some tax reformations. At the moment, he would rather be with the enforcers training than sit in this complex taxation model the advisers wanted to try.
In the middle of one of the accountants pointing to a graph at the projector screen, his phone vibrated. Again. He was ready throwing his phone out the window when he saw who was the sender. He swiped his fingers fast, quickly reading.
It was such a short message. But it nearly doubled him off his chair.
"Enforcer spotted Regem Wayne back into the district. Skye is not with him."
Happy to have found something of an excuse, the supreme alpha stood and regally announced something of more importance. He didn't even fail to use coated words to leave behind to appease the advisers and the others present in the meeting. After exiting the board room, he gathered more information from James. Wayne was spotted circling around the powerhouse hill.
Walking into the hallway, Rustom pulled his phone to his ear. "Please invite Regem Wayne in my other office. I'd like to talk to him."
"I already sent the order," James replied. "Anything else?"
For a brief moment, Rustom chewed at the insides of his cheeks. "No intimidation. It's just a talk."
"Understood."
* * * *
He knew Regem Wayne had been brought to his other smaller office in the district hall. Located just a floor above the basement, he let a few more minutes before stepping in himself. He wanted to allow a few seconds for the stranger to get a feel of the territory. Let him see that one suspicious move from him and he'd regret it. It wasn't a threat. It was a simple caution.
He stepped in front of a simple, bland door. An enforcer opening it for him. When he entered, the man was standing, looking out the window. Wayne turned to look back at him, and the glints in his gray eyes were nothing but menacing.
"I don't remember breaking one of the million rules here in Sierra Nadre," was Regem Wayne's greeting.
Rustom crossed the almost bare room and sat at the edge of the neat table. "The mere fact you're circling the powerhouse hill is suspicious in itself. What are you doing here? Where is Skye?"
Wayne regarded him quietly. The man's arms were both hanging by his sides yet there was something deadly calculating in his posture. A stance ready to strike. As if he was this set of coiled metal rings being held by invisible restraints. This man was built like a tank, a sureness in his strength very much obvious.
A considerable silence came to pass. It prepared no one when Wayne lunged forward, aiming a powerful swing at Rustom. Neither of the three enforcers inside the room even batted an eyelash. As extraordinary the move from Wayne was, it wasn't a surprise to Rustom. He wasn't the SA by warming office seats all day. He pressed for combat than anything else.
He watched the man aim a punch at his jaw. Rustom though didn't do anything to break the contact. He just stood there, waiting for the impact. The obviously bone-breaking impact that never came. Wayne had his arm raised mere inches away, his breathing heavy, his eyes a blazing pair of icy grays.
Eventually, Wayne dropped his hand. He shook his head, walked back to his chair and slouched on it.
“You have questions right?” Wayne hissed.
"What is your business in Sierra Nadre?" Rustom crossed his arms, his voice coming from the depths of his chest.
"Don't try using that tone on me Vera. You're not my SA, or my boss. I don't answer to you." Wayne then looked away, out into the ugly streaks of red painted at the sky. "Tell me Vera. Are you really doing your jobs? Are your people really doing theirs?"
The enforcers around stiffened, the heat of tension from all alpha males in one room was never a good thing. Wayne ignored the boiling distrust in the room, uncaring that three elite alpha enforcers with the district supreme alpha could shred him to pieces if time dictated the need.
The man groaned, his face suddenly buried in his hands, his elbows on both his knees. It was the very first signs of tiredness Rustom saw in the man's confident stance.
"All of five years," Wayne said in an anguished whisper. “All your promises about protecting omegas, and finding who killed Larri. Where is it?"
Rustom stiffened at the mention of Larri Devlin's name. He would never forget that name. For what happened to the man opened his eyes that there were still brutal people who could do such vile things.
"Why are you bringing Larri and his case up?"
"Why?" Wayne snorted. "Because I am deeply invested? Because he was my partner, my fated mate?"
Silence. It filled the room. Rustom opened his mouth to speak. But found himself closing them again. And while the other enforcers inside the room who were standing on guard remained ready, their crippling aggressiveness in the air faded.
Wayne raked his fingers over his messy curls, his lips twisting in disgust. "You may be housing a criminal in your district, Vera."
Rustom could feel the tension in his body spiking up. He glanced behind him and looked eye to eye with his pin-pointed enforcers. The men he could trust with sensitive information. Men who would gladly do his bidding with gallant pride. They all tipped their heads slightly. A signal they were ready whatever he wanted for them to do.
He tur
ned back at Wayne, pulling on his dark blue tie. By the second it was becoming like a snake coiling around his neck.
"We did the best we can with Larri Devlin's case," Rustom began. "From here on out I am going to talk to you as Rustom Vera and not as the SA. Anything you say against anyone will not be held against you without proof."
Wayne stared at him hard. The same alpha stare for sensing bullshits among one another. A few seconds later, satisfied, Wayne loudly sighed. He gave the hulking enforcers by the wall one last glance before focusing on Rustom.
"I spent nearly five years, scurrying for all non existent evidence..." he started with a hiss. But he looked like he was about to break from rage. "Then last month, last month, one of my contacts from Warren Point gave me information I started digging into."
Rustom was at the edge of the large table, his jaws working, the veins in his arms bulging.
"My contact said he found a witness. And I searched for him five districts away from Sierra Nadre."
Rustom almost rolled his eyes. "Every witness we could gather from that day we questioned, Regem Wayne."
"Did you ever question a four-year-old kid at the time?"
A really nasty air of tension started bleeding out into the room.
"What?"
Wayne started pressing for his knuckles, going white from the pressure. "He was four years old that time, brought along by his parents from a far district just to take part in that stupid book signing. What would a kid know about writers, much more about some boring after-party in the evening? He and a few other kids left. Played hide and seek and our little hero here wanted to impress the other kids. Off he crawled, shifted, and then hid close to one of the inner borders. His scent as a beta wasn't that strong, eventually he was hidden in the scent of grass where he'd been rolling."
Rustom lifted a hand to massage his temples. "Okay. Go on."
"When no one came to look for him, the kid peeked from under the dried leaves he used as blanket. Guess who he saw walking out of nowhere back into the district proper?" Wayne asked with disgust. The man's eyes turned into gray slits. "One of your district advisers."
Rustom stood abruptly with a force which almost sent the table sliding backwards to the wall. The enforcers picked up on his disbelief. He tried to draw a deep breath, but something was deeply lodged in his throat, almost blocking his voice. When he spoke it came out hoarsely.
"One of our advisers? What the fuck are you getting at?"
Wayne pursed his lips. The tired shadow coming back into his expression. Somehow it seemed like this man had expected this very reaction. "Do you think I was that naive to believe in such kiddie story right away Vera? I looked for reasons. I verified it. Because no one in your district can trace the dots together."
Impatiently, Rustom took his entire coat off his shoulders and threw it haphazardly over the chair's backrest. He was starting to dislike where this was heading.
"I know the procedure the district undertook during the investigation. You questioned everyone who attended the book signing, as well as the important guests and district officers who came. But you all bypassed one."
Rustom frowned, his hands inside his trouser pockets balling into fists.
"Think about someone you didn't involve in the investigations. Someone who you didn't bother five years ago because he was fucking 'grieving'?”
Rustom whipped around. It wasn't possible. But he heard every fucking grinding of his enforcers' teeth. James close to the door had drained of color. Each and everyone of them seemed to have been thinking of only one person.
"Where's Adviser Barron?" Rustom whirled and snapped at James.
"As far as schedule goes," Jules answered instead. "He's with Adviser Tiago for a series of outside business meetings."
Rustom buried his face briefly into his hands. "Call him."
James was already on the act, shaking in the negative.
"Call Adviser Tiago!" he snapped.
In a second, James had his phone in loud speaker.
"Huh? Adviser Barron? He's not here with me. The man was complaining of severe migraine so he stayed at our hotel in Sierra Berde," Tiago replied in caution. As if he could already sense something weird going on, he asked, "Is something the matter?"
Rustom turned to the phone set on the table. If his glares could set things on fire, the phone would have exploded. "Sierra Berde? It's only fifteen miles from Warren Point..." The supreme alpha narrowed his eyes at Wayne. His body was tingling from a sudden pressure spiking in his system. "Where's Skye?"
Wayne swore.
On his agile feet, Rustom rushed past the small office, barking commands. He couldn't see the rest of the closed doors he passed. Couldn't even hear the protest of his own truck when he pulled open the door too strong he nearly yanked it off.
He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Wayne hopping into his own motorbike. "Wayne," he called in a voice no human would have heard. "Let me deal with this."
Everything was crashing back on Rustom. Five years ago, he was in the middle of the transitioning phase. Easing to his new role as the Supreme Alpha, Rustom had his head and hands already full. That time as well was when Adviser Barron bereaved, announced his omega wife, Mrs Jhoana Barron who had been just healthy a few days ago all but suddenly had an attack and left the world to join the makers.
Out of respect to the upright and loving alpha adviser, most of the other advisers agreed to a vote, not to bother him with another heartache. Because the man was known to have a soft heart for omegas and the weaker.
He drove with his gums itching. He drove with his hands almost turning into claws, slicing into the leather of the wheels. He drove, and tried to calm himself, following instincts and the trail he'd always seen in his dreams.
He pressed on the accelerator. His rage, anger, and worry mingling all in a tidal wave of seething havoc.
“God fucking damn it!” he growled. “Not Skye…”
Weird. His body clock was all messed up. He could still vaguely remember the sun's scorching heat that afternoon. Could still remember sitting at the back of the van while drinking a bottle of water that at the time, was like the oasis of life itself. Now he was still sitting, of that he was sure. But the sturdy car floor mat was gone. Replaced by uneven bumps of something hard and sharp. He tried to shift, but his legs and his entire upper body felt like being weighed by lead. The skin of his back dug sharply against a rough and hard surface. The fabric of his shirt was useless to shield him from the discomfort wherever he was.
He groaned. His eyes refused to open, as though he had lost control of even the very smallest control he had over his body. His head lay hanging, his chin to his chest. It was so uncomfortable. It was very surreal. Last he could remember he should be inside the service’s comfort. But he couldn't think past it. A greater part of his mind was still asleep.
A gush of wind blew over his cheeks. Cold. Damp. Wake up, he told himself. Something wasn't right. Everything wasn't.
Finally, Skye's fingers twitched on his sides. He gingerly lifted a hand, bringing it to massage his throbbing temples. It did nothing to ease the dizzying sensation inside his closed lids. He pressed harder, but the rush of blood came pounding back to his fingertips. He gave up, drawing his brows together as he cautiously opened and tested his eyes.
Dark. Full of moving shadows. He tried to stand. He almost fell. Clinging to the hard surface behind his back, he realized it was a rough trunk of a tree. He used it to support his weight, meanwhile absorbing the unfamiliar territory that was slowly registering in his muddled brains.
In the dark, the shadows came from the trees, their leaves swaying almost lazily with the occasional chilly and alarmingly quiet breeze. The moon was barely making its presence known. Completely hidden away behind darkened night clouds, the bare movements below produced a chaos of faint and moving shadows. From the branches. From the tall grasses. It was as though everything was trying to grab a hold of him.
Think. Think! Wh
y am I...
Something in the dark broke. A twig. Or maybe a bone from an animal long dead. The sound continued. Growing thicker. Growing louder. The sound was freaking all around him. And then it ceased. To an echoing sound of footsteps crushing leaves, everything went to a stand still. Skye tried his hardest, squinting. Taking whatever the traitorous moon was giving him, he saw a pair of red eyes emerging from the shadows. Human eyes. Eyes piercingly focused, hungry, lusty, devouring him.
He grinded his teeth in worried anticipation. He should have started running whether he couldn't control his own limbs. But a part of himself wanted to see. Or a part of him, a tiny part of him, already knew but still wanted to deny.
Skye couldn't recognize the man who emerged. He was still the man he respected. He was still the man he'd been speaking to earlier. But Skye barely recognized the startling calm and determination in those eyes. As if for this man, he was a game. A thrill. Or a drug.
"How's the head?" the man murmured.
"Bad," Skye hissed. "No thanks to you."
How couldn't have he relied on his instincts that afternoon? He was worried. He felt alarmed and felt the lick of danger in that parking area for a reason. But like the gullible fool that Rustom had told him he was, he instead felt relieved and appeased of seeing the adviser's familiar and kind face. And now he was in this mess.
"We're finally alone now, aren't we?"
"Seems like it Adviser Barron."
Skye inched away from the tree. The act felt like he was dragging a mountain with him. His footing failed spectacularly and watched himself go flat to the ground. In a beat, the older man was there, grabbing him by the arms, steadying him back on his feet.
"Don't hurt yourself..." Adviser Barron gently scolded, tucking a few stray black strands of Skye's hair. He leaned in closer, looking down at Skye with demented amusement. "Don't get hurt... yet. Not yet."
Revulsion stepping over fear, Skye glowered at the man who had a hold of steel on his arm. He willed all his disappointment and disgust into his stare. But Barron only smiled, patting his cheek gently like he was a child. His favorite child.
