Things happened quickly after that.
Holt was like a hound on a scent - a particularly vicious yet well-spoken hound, somehow managing to maintain manners even as he did his job with ruthless efficiency. With this one witness stepping forward, the case against Marcus was already becoming shaky, and Holt was monopolizing on that like the lawyer he was. It was becoming increasingly clear that the new evidence was going to trump the old: Marcus’s initial blood test had shown no drugs in his system, making his claims to ‘not remember’ anything seem fraudulent. However, Werewolves all had a notoriously swift metabolism that worked hand-in-hand with their healing abilities - meaning if blood wasn’t collected fast enough or tested correctly, false negatives were easy to come by. The new witness was coming with the blood sample that he’d stolen and preserved reportedly with great care, and Holt was already tentatively optimistic that this blood would sh
The case for Marcus’s innocence was building momentum, and Holt was riding at the head of that momentum like some sort of shark at the crest of an incoming wave. The news that Marcus had been drugged was just the start - next, Holt demanded to talk to the investigator in charge of the initial case, and suddenly the case against Marcus began to look as shady as fuck. “Looking at the records, I see that you had Marcus’s blood taken immediately for testing but not any of his deceased pack's blood,” Holt said, long fingers splayed over the pile of files that he’d acquired copies of. His cognac-brown eyes flicked up, sharp despite his otherwise pleasant expression. He smiled with a flash of too-white teeth that somehow managed to look more dangerous than the mouth full of canine fangs he was capable of wearing. “Ignoring for a moment how mishandled Marcus’s blood samples were, can you tell me why no other samples were taken?” The investigato
It was fitting that the day was a dreary one, because chill and stormy fit Marcus’s mood pretty accurately as he prepared to see the graves of his pack for literally the first time - and to see the dead bodies of two of them for the second time. The thought of them being dragged up out of the earth, rotted by time, had him sucking in a shuddering breath and fervently reminding himself that he didn’t need to see that part. Then again, he didn’t necessarily need to be there for the exhumation at all, but Declan had had a point: Marcus needed closure, and even if this was the most fucked up way to get it, it was something. Declan had just left, looking collected and powerful next to Holt’s greyhound frame. Marcus trusted that everything would go well on their end; he trusted Declan with his memories, although he felt a twinge of regret at the thought of not getting to see Simon. He hadn’t seenanyonefrom his old life in years, so mayb
“Declan... Declan, your pups are fine,” Moira reassured with so much natural calm that she sounded almost bored as she spoke into the phone, “We’re at a motel. We figured it wouldn’t be wise to travel back- No, Declan, that doesn’t mean anyone is hurt. The reason no one is answering your calls is because your pack is resting.” Moira listened to her nephew worry at her over the phone for a few sentences more before finding a pause to insert words into again, “Meeting Marcus’s family was just about as stressful as you’d expect, Nephew. Nobody got hurt, but…” Moira paused, looking to the closed door between the adjoining rooms. While she talked on the phone, Melba and Seth were handling Declan’s pack in the other room. It had been a hectic ride to the motel, but it was quiet now… which hopefully meant Moira could get some answers soon. Until that time, she told Declan what she knew to tide him over and keep him from jumping into the
Of course things couldn’t go smoothly. Declan was pacing outside in the early dawn hours, awaiting the return of his pack, finally within telepathic range - he could hear Kobi and Liz’s thoughts if they reached for him, and Marcus’s mind had long since reached his awareness as a wordless, aching bruise. The latter was particularly worrisome because Declan couldn’t otherwise contact Marcus, but with the two vehicles in contact with one another, everyone was aware of the fact that Marcus hadn’t woken up yet. The soft agony of his sleeping thoughts was hard to take, and Declan was almost frantic with the need to soothe it - and to soothe Liz and Kobi, too. The two Betas were legitimately good people, but they weren’t saints, and were therefore still understandably shaken by what their new Omega had done to them. But things suddenly got more complicated when Liz and Kobi’s thoughts sparked with panic, and th
Declan woke up with a lava-hot migraine and the smell of cedar and vanilla in his nose. He groaned, found his movement impeded on all sides, but was too groggy to be properly worried about that - and when he cracked his eyes open to bare slits and turned his head, he saw Koby sitting behind him. There was a pillow beneath Declan’s head and he’d apparently moved so that he was lying on his side on the bed, Koby at his back and sitting up against the headboard like a sentinel. A torpid blink in the other direction (the room feeling entirely too bright) showed Liz in front of him.And when Declan followed her eyes downwards a bit, he saw that Marcus was in his arms, stretched out now and human, lips slightly parted and one knee pressing against Declan’s thigh as the Omega moved a bit in his sleep. Catatonia had given way to a more natural unconsciousness, and Declan let out a sigh that sounded like he’d been holding it a while - pe
Goodgod, Declan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed. Marcus had admitted as that he’d used his Omega powers a bit at the end of their tryst in the shower, but Declan had informed him in no uncertain terms that he didn’t give a damn – he’d kissed Marcus, slow and deep, to get the point across, hoping that Marcus was paying attention to the telepathic link so that he could feel how very pleased Declan was with the whole situation. The two of them were properly cleaned and dried off now, and had managed to get… partially dressed… before just collapsing into their shared bed to ride out the rest of the post-coital high. Declan wondered if Marcus’ Omega abilities were the reason the bliss was lasting this long. Again – not a bad thing. While Declan lay flopped on his back, more or less starfished, Marcus curled on his side, smiling into Declan’s shoulder wit
Holt cursed quietly under his breath, frustration rising like a heat wave up his spine.The voice that came up behind him was unexpected: “Something the matter?”Instead of jumping in surprise, Holt merely twitched, recognizing Seth by the sound of his voice even if he somehow hadn’t noticed his approaching scent or footsteps. Members of Moira’s pack all got used to her husband’s ghostly qualities, however, so Holt didn’t waste any time with shock or bewilderment. Instead, he just turned in his chair, watching as Seth pulled open the curtains in the secluded room that Holt had taken as a personal office. It was the third such room he’d found, and the only one that the pups hadn’t found him in yet. The sunlight that slanted in was from a lot higher angle than Holt expected, and he blinked against it before turning to his laptop to see that he really had been at this for longer than expected. S
The disappearance of Simon Roen signaled the beginning of the end of the prosecution’s case against Marcus. While Simon continued to make himself suspiciously scarce, more evidence began to unfold, until quite a picture became obvious: Marcus had been drugged by the same substance that had been in his pack’s systems, making it incredibly unlikely that he’d been doing any killing, and more likely that whoever had killed his pack had also incapacitated him; something definitively fishy had gone on at the time of Marcus’ escape from custody, because while Marcus stated that he’d run when someone had forgotten to handcuff him, the official record actually said that the escape had been done by force. Nothing was adding up. Holt was trying to track down the guard who had been responsible for Marcus at the time of his escape from custody, but apparently that guard had quit some time ago with no forwarding address. Holt’s hunting paid off in another sector, though: t