Even as he tried to convince himself, a prickle of unease shot down his spine.
They’d have their time, and then he’d get his answers.
He only hoped they were answers he wanted to hear.
Chapter Six
Caden Stone wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, much less a member of the pack that had adopted him months before. A human living among wolf shifters—who would have thunk it? Not him, that’s for fucking sure. He was grateful they’d uncovered the truth about this wife’s death but it didn’t mean he liked to socialize or play nice like the rest of the puppies. He continued to reside in their presence because it benefited him to do so, not because he had a yen to settle down, join the pack officially and start a family.
Family. One word. A locker full of endless misery.
Been there, done that. Watched them take a trip six feet under.
Pain speared his chest, the ache heavy. It was difficult to gasp for breath, the anguish of loss too much to take, bearing down on him…
He forced emotion aside, concentrating on his thoughts, remembering why he was sitting inside the home of one of the most powerful shifters in the world. Diskant wanted to kill the Shepherds who annihilated a good portion of their pack. Caden wanted to find the whereabouts of the man responsible for the death of his wife, who was connected to Shepherds.
Two people with the same goal—a deadly combination.
Despite the fact that Shepherds had put the hit on Cade’s wife, it was the man who took her life he wanted dead—as well as the man he knew only as Mr. Pink. Now that was a motherfucker he intended to bleed dry, so the bastard could fully appreciate the importance of the moment. Mr. Pink had enjoyed Andrea’s suffering. Cade had seen it in the memory Ava showed him, as though he’d been standing inside his kitchen with the murderers the night his wife died.
Calm down. Don’t work yourself up. There’s protocol to follow.
As if he could forget.
There was a strict set of laws one respected if you wanted to survive among shifters, a code of conduct that would keep your head on your shoulders. It wasn’t as if he could come and go at will—oh no. He had to take it up the shitter like a big boy, listen to orders and follow them. The pack liked to be orderly, meaning there were rules. Lots and lots of rules. And the number one rule was simple: do not fuck with Diskant Black.
The first time he’d met the Omega, he’d decided to go at him like any other shifter—huge mistake. Diskant decided to pull out his shifter deck of cards and call on the tiger inside of him, wiping the ground with Cade’s ass good and fucking proper. Caden hadn’t had his ass stomped that badly since he’d been a puny kid on the elementary school playground and had tried to defend his secret crush’s honor: a move that left him bleeding on the ground as the first love of his life walked away with the bully who’d tugged her hair and called her stupid.
His thoughts drifted from one dismal point in time to another—his current one.
He tried to act like he didn’t give a shit when Diskant walked into the kitchen and took a seat across from him. D didn’t do small talk. If he’d searched Caden out, he wanted something.
Fuck my life.
He really wasn’t in the mood to talk but there was no way around it. This wasn’t a world that allowed him to take what he wanted. It was a world of take-what-you-get-and-shut-the-fuck-up. Unicorns and rainbows only existed in fairytales, little girls’ bedrooms and when Neil Patrick Harris got his shroom on.
“We need to talk,” Diskant said in a voice so deep it felt like the air rattled.
“I kinda figured that.” Cade plopped his bottle on the table, crossed his arms over his chest, reclined in his chair and waited.
“What I’m about to say to you goes no further. This isn’t pack business, it’s personal.”
Personal. Not necessarily a good thing. “I’m listening.”
Diskant leaned forward, words soft. “You’re aware that, under certain circumstances, I do share information with the Villati.”
Oh shit. Not a good thing at all. “I’m aware.”
And boy, was he aware.
The Villati were a group of researchers who recorded all things supernatural. Trey had been furious when he’d discovered Diskant had met the top dog of the organization, Craig Newlander, following Ava’s final stage of the bloodbond. None of the pack knew what had taken place between Craig and Diskant but it continued to make everyone nervous. If information about the packs leaked, or the mainstream media learned that their nice, crime-infested world was also inhabited by werewolves, vampires and witches, they’d probably declare it the end of days.
“Recently Mr. Newlander contacted me about something important—something he doesn’t know what do with.” For the first time since Cade had met Diskant, he saw fear in the shifter’s face, and it scared the piss out of him.
“What kind of something are we talking about?”
“A large-scale catastrophe, one that could possibly wipe out a solid portion of the United States.”
Cade considered crossing himself. Speak of the end of days, receive the end of days.
Fuck my life twice.
Diskant lowered his gaze, staring at the table. “Have you heard of Pompeii, Caden?”
The question jarred a memory and Cade found himself recalling a long-forgotten history class, along the lines of a partially buried town somewhere in Rome—the result of a massive eruption. “Is that the city a volcano destroyed?”
“Yeah,” Diskant said, eyes remaining dead ahead. “That’s the one.”
The silence stretched for too long, making Cade’s skin twitch. “What about it?”
Diskant didn’t answer, as though he didn’t hear.
“Earth to D.” Cade snapped his fingers in front of the shifter’s face. “Come in.”
He bit back a cry of pain when Diskant snatched his hand at the wrist and lifted his head. The Omega’s eyes were wild, shifting color as though he couldn’t get a hold on his emotions. For a moment Cade considered calling for Ava. If anyone could control the asshole who could cause irreversible damage it was Diskant’s mate. Before he could, Diskant let him go, taking deep breaths.
“Outside,” he growled, rose from his seat and spun toward the door that led to the garage.
Cade didn’t argue, though his sense of logic damned him for a moron. Something was way off. Diskant never lost control. He couldn’t afford to. His position as the Alpha and Omega of the city meant he had to keep his cool, think things through.
What was so important it had him by the balls?
Diskant hated shielding himself from Ava. Fucking hated it. Especially when he’d have to answer her questions when she met him in their bedroom—a meeting she’d managed to demand just before he erected a mental wall between them. How did he tell her about the phone call he’d received while she was checking up on Mary? How could he possibly explain that something he’d thought was nothing more than a shifter story to scare children before bedtime was actually real?
A goddamn conjurer.
Damn Craig Newlander to hell for expecting the pack to take care of the problem. Shifters avoided witches and warlockes for a damn good reason. Strong magic had the ability to call to their animal forms, placing the beast before the man. When that happened a shifter would become a life-sized pet. Distance was necessary to ensure the safety of his kind, and he sure as shit wasn’t sending a member of his pack to escort the female to an enclave in New Orleans. It was too dangerous, and there was too much bad blood between shifters and those who once used them as familiars. There was only one person in his pack he could trust to get the job done—the human he’d taken under his protection.