Claws and Cartels Chapter 2

Title: Shadows Of The Past

Debby's POV

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The Porsche slowed toward a hidden mansion, tucked at the forest’s edge, its black gates blending with towering pines. Levin’s private retreat, isolated and secure. Perfect for a werewolf elite.

The garage lit up, revealing a collection of sleek black cars, each perfectly placed to dazzle, a stunning display of Levin’s sharp eye for detail. The dark, cozy space felt like a private museum, every angle flawless, showcasing his refined style. “Not bad,” Jerry said. Levin’s quick smile showed he enjoyed the awe, but Debby stayed wary, sensing the calculated grip of his hidden world on her son.

“Let’s go,” Levin said, striding toward a door. Debby paused, her eyes catching a locked door down the hall, a faint wolf symbol glowing on its surface, pulsing like a heartbeat. What lies behind that door? she wondered, her pulse quickening with suspicion, and Debby wasn’t one to shy away from discovering the truth once she set her mind on it. She would definitely find her way into that room by hook or by crook.

Levin moved swiftly, forcing Debby and Jerry’s tired legs to keep up. A vast living room unfolded, filled with people, chatting, drinking, playing; silence enveloped the room as Levin walked in with two strangers. A glass elevator stood at the room’s heart, opening for Levin. All eyes followed as it sealed, shielding them from the crowd’s stares.

The elevator climbed, revealing the mansion’s towering scale. They stepped into a hallway, quiet and definitely private. “Pick any room,” Levin said, pointing to a door at the passage’s end, “I’ll be there.” Seven doors lined the floor; three on the left, three on the right, one ahead. Debby chose the room closest to Levin’s on the right. Levin locked eyes with his son, still hesitant to choose, signaling him to a door directly opposite Debby’s. Jerry moved reluctantly, as if compelled, but Debby’s voice cut through. “We stay together,” she snapped, her glare daring Levin, her hand tight on Jerry’s. “He’s a man now, not a kid,” Levin countered, pointing to the exit. “Behave like one, or leave.” Debby’s nod was curt, the danger outside silencing her protest. Jerry entered his room, the door clicking shut. “What was that?” Debby challenged, but Levin didn’t reply. Are you trying to keep him away from me? she added. The words pierced Levin; at least it wouldn’t be for 15 years, you get to see him every day, so you should be grateful, he said, storming into his room and leaving Debby standing in disbelief.

“So much for needing my help,” he muttered, sliding onto the chair by his minibar, pouring himself a drink while his mind drifted away. She hasn’t spoken to me in years, and the first time she calls, she wants to come back home? Isn’t this a little too convenient? Flashbacks of his horrible early days after her departure came rushing like a stream, the never-ending anxiety, anticipating the return of his wife and son. Days turned to weeks, months, years, but that day never came. Why now? Something about this isn’t adding up. How did they get involved with Damon? Jerry, 16, a murderer? No way.

Levin picked up his phone and placed a call. “Samad: Yes, boss, meet me at the sanctuary.” “Yes, boss.”

Levin stormed toward the door; as soon as he opened it, Debby came crashing into him. He caught her by the waist, her weight forcing him to pull her toward him so they both wouldn’t crash to the ground. As he held her, partially standing on the back of her foot, the exchange of stares was toxic, Debby’s face was full of regret as she was caught eavesdropping, and Levin’s face was filled with disappointment and surprise. “We need to talk,” Debby managed to say, taking back control of her body and stepping out of Levin’s grip. “Yeah, we need to. Come in, make yourself comfortable. Coffee?” “Yes, please,” Debby replied. “Two spoons of milk and a cube of sugar,” they chorused. Levin burst into laughter. “I see some parts of you haven’t changed,” he said, smiling.

“So, tell me.”

Debby observed Levin for a few seconds, then she began. “I don’t like the way you talk to me in front of Jerry, and I don’t appreciate the threats you used to separate my son from me. If we are going to live here, then it has to feel like home. We have to feel safe.” Levin replied, “And by safe, you mean?” “I mean the threats have to stop, completely,” Debby answered. Levin was losing it in his mind but remained physically calm. “Who was the first person you called when you needed safety?” “You,” replied Debby. Levin’s facial expression was as piercing as his words. “Then it’s clear your problem isn’t safety but trust.” That statement left both of them staring at each other, silent and still; they could hear their own breath. It was the closest they’d come to feeling comfortable around each other since Debby returned. Soon, that comfort became awkward. As Debby stood up to leave, just as she was about to walk out of the room, Levin called out, “Debby.” She turned to look at him, her expression almost giving away her eagerness to leave his presence. “Next time you lean on my door to eavesdrop on me, you will hit the floor face first.”

Debby lay on her bed, her mind on Jerry. Levin’s coldness haunted her, the man she loved had disappeared. His cold nature suggested a rough ride for her and her son; she hoped not. That video of him shooting her father, whispering something, gnawed at her. What was he saying? Fifteen years, and the question still lurked. She could just ask him, but the deaf silence that suddenly fell in the room when he walked in showed he was feared, and for some reason, she felt the necessity to fear him too.

“What are you doing here?” Levin said to Jerry, who he was surprised to see in the sanctuary. “What’s he doing here?” Levin turned to Brad. “I was hoping you would have the answer to that; he was here when I came in.” “Young man, how did you get in here?” Levin asked again. “The door was open,” Jerry stammered. “To your room,” Levin commanded with a nod. At this point, Levin had had enough. “I’m losing it, Brad. I haven’t been this agitated in years,” Levin said, collapsing into a chair.

“I think you know why,” Brad replied. “Why?” Levin said, almost interrupting Brad. Brad replied with a smirk, “It’s often said the depth of our hurt reflects the depth of our love.”