Chapter 2: Liam

Duncan’s roar shakes the foundation of the concrete room our pack huddles in, his grief ripping through him. It was some of our Hounds that found the bodies this morning, lying there in shreds in the middle of Millennium Park. Our Hounds are just as they sound, pack members that serve as police officers and homicide detectives by day. We all have our place, a way for us to blend in seamlessly. We all hold jobs like anyone else; civil servants, politicians, physicians, CEOs, bakers and students. Unless it’s a full moon, it’s nearly impossible to know we’re anything different than humans.

Duncan Henna, the Chicago Pack’s Alpha, lost his son last night. One of the bodies laid out on the cold ground, his soul sucked free by a ruthless demon. My muscles bulge against the fabric of my thermal, doing my best to hold him from charging from our pack house in South Barrington, Illinois. Even with the strength of ten of us, we’re barely restraining him. Corrine, his wife, our Luna, and a nurse, fights to reach his neck, the needle on the syringe leaking the tranquilizer we’re trying to inject him with.

“D, please,” I beg a whimper escaping one of the younger pack members next to me, as Duncan’s head barrels into his chest.

Tears streak his face, his lips pulled back in a vicious snarl. His howls never stop, the grief of losing his eldest son to our greatest enemy. I have no children, no mate, no prospects for love, so I in no way know what he feels, not really. The only one I was ever destined to love, was murdered before I knew her, but still that pain can’t possibly compare to this. A bond is not the same as your flesh and blood.

As werewolves, we get tiny projections of what another pack mate might be feeling in our human forms, with the emotions hurtling toward you full-force once we shift. Shifts that, thankfully, only take place with the full moon. I am by no means the lovey dovey type. It makes me laugh that the gods above made me a werewolf at all because I possess none of the clingy companionship inclinations that werewolves do. Where they need each other for warmth, I prefer solitude. Yet I will always protect them with my life.

Duncan’s body finally sags in our arms, his sheer weight dragging us to the carpeted floor beneath our feet. As Alpha, it’s his job to formulate a plan of retaliation when our enemies take the lives of our own. With Riley, Duncan’s son, no longer with us, it will be on me and Corrine. With grunts of exhaustion, several pack members carry Duncan’s body from the meeting room, into the one bedroom down here. One he sometimes uses when he’s worked himself too hard in the office at the other side of the sub-basement room we’re in now.

“Liam. Walter. Come,” Corrine commands, leading me and Walter, our Omega, towards the back office.

We’re all quiet as we close the door. The grief and anger seeping through our pores like the stench of alcohol after a night of being on a bender. Riley was like a son to me, despite our ages being closer than that of a father and son. My little shadow since he could walk. I’d be a liar if I said his loss isn’t nearly tearing me apart, dragging my knees to the ground, so I can beg for him back. Not only would he have been our next Alpha many years down the line, he was the laughter that lightened the tension in any room. He was a guiding heart for those in pain and working through their darkness. Him and those boys, we lost last night.

The bone white walls of the square room seem to press in on me, while the charcoal carpet drives up under my feet. I’m being suffocated by the rivalry that has existed between demons and our kind since the beginning of time. It hurts each and every time, knowing our souls will writhe in agony in the pit of whatever demon devoured it. Their wolves not free to return to the gods or roam the earth ever again.

“Who was it?” I growl, my patience for waiting even another second before tearing out demon throats quickly dwindling.

Already I’m itching with the need to feel their black blood run through my fingers, taking my revenge on those that took from me. That’s all the demons have ever done, my entire life. Take, take, take. This time they stepped over the line. The overwhelming urge to slaughter those who come after werewolves is what earned me the position as Beta. Not only am I youngish and ruthless, but I’m creative when it comes to getting the information in return, before I tear them apart.

“Fallon Taylor.”

If shifting into my wolf on command was a thing, I’d be on all fours, racing from the house straight to her penthouse in the heart of the city. The one Fallon parades around claiming to be queen of demons. Queen my ass. She’s just a bitch that makes most cower at her feet. I’ve never met her, never seen her in person, generally keeping herself hidden away from our kind, letting her lower-level demons do her dirty work. It makes sense that she made it her own personal mission to go after the Alpha’s son. What better way to gain the upper hand in an endless war?

“What’s the plan?” Walter grimaces, his canines on display.

Corrine slumps into the leather chair behind the mahogany desk that takes up a third of the office. Normally, that’s where Duncan sits. It’s size proportioned to his massive body. Tired eyes meet mine, smudges dark and puffy. She may be doing a better job of holding it together right now, but she’s a grieving mother too. It’s been twelve hours since we found out, calming Duncan being our number one priority.

Massaging her temples, she groans, her eyes closing. “If I had one, I’d tell you.”

“I’ll pay her a visit tonight.” A nod is all I get as I march from the room, throwing the door open with enough force the knob breaks through the dry wall. It’s no matter. It’ll be fixed before I even get back.

Walter trails me, eager for payback, himself, but I stop him with a hand to his chest. “Duncan will need you when he comes to. Stay here.”

Pushing against my hand, he tries to drive past me, still. “You need backup.”

“Not tonight,” I growl, my sharp teeth biting with my words.

It’s an hour drive back to the city, darkness already draped around me as I pull my Jeep from the neighborhood and out onto the open highway. For a Tuesday night there’s more traffic than I would have expected, my temper making my weaving in and out of lanes, dangerous. There’s no rush. Not really. I know exactly where I’ll find that despicable soul sucker. And from what I hear, she likes to toy with her prey, so I have no doubt she’ll let me up.

The Residences at the St. Regis, is a massive building, two thin towers walled in blue glass. It’s a gorgeous place. An expensive one too. One my salary as a criminal public defender could never afford. Not to say Duncan wouldn’t buy me anything I asked for. I just refuse to live off pack money like that. I keep it simple. A one bedroom apartment in upper Streeterville, where I can easily walk to the beach every morning. That’s enough for me.

The concierge eyes me, clearly not impressed with my simple attire or gruff appearance. My beard is three days old. I’m sure I look as exhausted as I feel. Weird pockets of stretched material make my thermal hang odd on my body. Pretty sure I have a bruise on my cheek too from Duncan attempting to shuck me off. In the vast open space of creams and dark chocolate, I just look dirty.

With a pout of his lips, the concierge directs me towards the elevators, his key card being my allowance up to the penthouse. Despite rising over seventy floors, it’s a quick trip to the top. Not nearly enough time to keep my bubbling anger in check, as I saunter into the foyer of the penthouse suite.

Half naked men and women, some demons, some humans, some other creatures fill the living space, decorated in shades of gray, stark whites and onyx. None pay me any mind as their naked flesh writhes against each other, their arousal on display for all to see. Music thumps from speakers in every corner of the ceiling, the heavy beat vibrating my chest. Open bottles of liquor and champagne litter every flat surface.

Moving slowly, careful not to touch a single person here, I search for Fallon. I vaguely know what she looks like, so I’m fairly confident I’ll know her when I see her. I’m dead wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for the gorgeous face of my enemy. Sprawled out on a plush white leather couch, a human sucking at her neck, her head resting against the edge, exposing the thin column of her throat. All it would take is a knife to the heart and a bullet to the head for good measure, but I can’t look away.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you dogs it’s impolite to stare?” she croons, her head lifting, exposing me to her eyes so light in color they nearly appear to be crystals shining bright against the dim lights.

“We have matters to discuss.” My tone cool, collected. The exact opposite of what I am feeling at the moment.

“You’ve disappointed me, Wolf Boy. I thought for sure that daddy wolf would come clawing at my door.” The sultry lilt of her words lures me in, wanting to hear her continue to speak. There’s a hint of an accent there, one I can’t begin to place, but I want to keep listening to nonetheless.

“Surprise. You got me instead.” My words leave on a growl.

“Good. I’m looking for a little fun. Everyone out.”

With a flick of her wrist, every soul leaves, not even bothering to cover themselves at all. I’m left alone with my enemy. A breathtaking one, making my insides burn.