Un.Wavering (Claimed Series Book 3) (14 page)

His face was absolutely
livid
, she noticed. It was rare seeing him express his emotions in battle. She couldn’t remember the last time or
anytime
he appeared so irate.

As the last human fell, he whirled on her, prowling towards her and the human she held captive. Without a word, Nicolas snatched the chain from her hands and twisted it sharply, causing the human’s neck to snap immediately.

Shakily, Hayden sat low on the ground, nearly cowering in the face of his rage. He stared down at her, his angry eyes shards of ice. At his sides, his crimson-stained hands clenched and even trembled with anger.

“How could you be so
stupid
?” He appeared taller than usual, more menacing than usual. “I have never—”

“She didn’t know.”

Hayden threw a look over her shoulder, spying Cole crouching on the broken windowsill. He assessed the scene unhappily, a tightness around his mouth, yet his eyes locked unflinchingly onto his brother’s face.

“Stay out of this,” Nicolas whispered icily. “You are just as foolhardy as she is. Both of you possess a ridiculous notion that you need to be
saviors
.” He released a short, bitter laugh. “This is exactly where it gets you. Don’t you know?”

He turned away and paced the shop, his strides slowly beginning to even out once he regained his composure. Gradually, as Hayden’s mind caught up to the situation, she began to sense what truly fueled Nicolas’ explosive anger.

He was concerned.

The cold, arrogant rogue was actually
concerned
.

Cole appeared behind Hayden and encouraged her to stand. It was difficult for her legs to stand steadily, yet she somehow managed. She welcomed Cole’s presence, appreciating his solid and familiar protection at her back. His hand landed on her shoulder, a heavy, yet comforting weight that spoke volumes.

“I didn’t know it was a trap,” Hayden spoke mostly to the prowling figure of Nicolas. “I thought it would be an easy, quick fix.”

Despite the dingy corner Nicolas dwelled in, his blue eyes fumed brightly. “At what part did you think it would be a smart plan? Perhaps it was the part where you snuck off at night and cloaked your intentions in secrecy?”

“You should have approached us,” Cole murmured to her. “You know we would have never condoned this, Hayden.”

Anger coursed through her. Despite Cole’s attempts at calmly reprimanding her, she only saw it as an attack on her pride. “That’s exactly it. You would have never attempted to help—”

“Help you what? Rescue a human posing as a poor, victimized werewolf?” Nicolas interrupted cruelly. “No, you are correct. We would have never fell for it, thus not condoning a rescue attempt.”

Hayden narrowed her eyes at his sarcasm and his biting words. Though both brothers were unaware of it, they were finally in mutual agreement. Unfortunately for her, it was at her expense.

Cole’s hand on her shoulder suddenly felt oppressive.

“I get it.” She shrugged Cole’s hand off and took a step away. “It was my fault I walked into a trap. I should have brought it up to you first.”

Cole pressed his lips together, observing her distance and her defeat. “We aren’t necessarily upset about your decision to rescue an innocent man, Hayden.” He ignored Nicolas’s sharp look. “We want you to be aware of the situation you’re in. Celeste is hunting you. Hunting us. It is unwise to travel by yourself, especially in unknown territory.”

He reached out a hand and ran his fingers down her cheek. “I was worried.”

Hayden’s frustration and humiliation faltered. In the face of Cole’s unstable condition, and his stark concern, she couldn’t hold on to much anger. She curled her hand around his wrist and squeezed repentantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Precious,” Nicolas praised cynically.

It was not the man’s bitter comment that spurred Hayden’s attention, but the sound of a body hitting the floor. She turned, watching as the eldest Slayter removed two corpses from the high counter. As the bodies hit the ground, their motionless limbs jarred awkwardly and more blood leaked from their fatal wounds.

She tried hard to avoid the sight of all the men, of all the blood. It was difficult conjuring up much sympathy for them, but she felt guilty nonetheless. If it weren’t for Hayden’s mishap, they would have all been alive.

Alive to lure and kill more werewolves without restraint,
she corrected.

Nicolas had his back turned to Hayden and Cole, appearing interested in the array of strewn papers. He shuffled through them and chuckled as he found something of interest.

His laugh was sinister and empty.

“Of course it makes sense.” He turned slowly and gazed at Hayden from over his shoulder. “You couldn’t have picked a better location to stumble into, my dear.”

She frowned, appraising the tasteless walls of linoleum paneling and the unappealing yellow floors. The shop didn’t really resemble anything other than an outdated office. What could Nicolas find so fascinating?

“Welcome to Logan Crow’s abode where he offered legal and financial consultation.” Nicolas gazed appreciatively at his surroundings. “It’s delightfully bland and ordinary, wouldn’t you agree?”

The terms
bland
and
ordinary
didn’t give the office nearly as much credit as it deserved. Drop ceilings and florescent lights yellowed with age, and the standard white clock on the wall remained stuck at ten forty-three.

Upon hearing Nicolas’ proclamation, Cole intentionally knocked down the lamp, shattering and extinguishing the only source of light inside the shop. While the darkness would have been useful earlier, they were now cloaked from possible late-night observers.

Her night-vision did not dull the appearance of the old shop, if anything, it only amplified the small details. Somehow, seeing the carnage of bodies inside the painfully ordinary office created a demoralizing atmosphere.

“This is what we’ve been looking for,” Hayden stated dully, not bothering to form it as a question. Her eyes fell on the old coffee machine, noticing the thick layer of dust. “Somehow, I expected more from Celeste’s mate.”

“
Patience
,” Nicolas reprimanded calmly from across the office. “You need to learn patience, Hayden.”

She exhaled, defusing her irritation.

Trying to ignore the lifeless eyes staring up at her, Hayden stepped over the bodies and ventured nearer to Nicolas and Cole. Her boots left an obvious trail of crimson and she grimaced, her chest tight with regret.

The irony in the situation was morbidly amusing, really. She had intended to save just one person from the humans and their madness. Her guilt at not being able to save others had driven her to act reckless, while holding on to the notion that she could save at least
one
individual
.

Instead, she’d slaughtered dozens. Not by her hand, but indirectly.

Her eyes fell on to Nicolas’ hands, noticing the dried blood between his fingers and underneath his fingernails. He hardly seemed put off by his deed. And even Cole, who was usually reserved with justice, had no harsh words for his brother.

“Logan was ingenious and he was restless,” Cole lectured as they escaped into the back room. “It is unlikely that he sat at the front desk and worked diligently for eight hours, seven days a week.”

As if sharing a private joke with his brother, Nicolas scoffed at the very idea.

The front of the shop was open with a few tables and chairs. It was likely where they conducted their consultation with their clients. In the back of the shop, however, the walls were packed with bookcases filled with ledgers and an assortment of books and papers.

Her nose tickled at the mustiness and she somehow stifled a sneeze. 

“He clearly had a business partner who did
the work for him.” Nicolas snatched one of the ledgers from the shelves and skimmed through it, revealing an excessive amount of numbers and neatly penned accounts.

He also released a fountain of dust. Each particle shimmered brightly as they soared through the air. Hayden turned her back on the onslaught of dust and considered the back room with hooded eyes.

There were two desks situated amongst the many books and heavy tomes. One undoubtedly belonged to Logan’s very dedicated partner. A stack of writing utensils and lose-leaf papers piled neatly at one edge of the desk. Ink smudges and nicks stained the top of the oak desk, the piece of furniture obviously experiencing heavy use throughout the years.

The other desk was nearly flawless in that it suffered no abuse. It was bare too, just a few ledgers and a fountain pen sitting on top. A coat rack stood near, hanging a single, abandoned jacket. Like the rest of the office, the article of clothing was coated with dust.

Hayden reached out and touched the sleeve, her mind elsewhere. How could Celeste kill her mate? A seemingly ordinary and influential man? From what Nicolas had heard, despite contrary opinions of Logan’s good nature, he had supposedly treated her unfairly.

Knowing Celeste, Logan’s death was unjust.

“Have you told Hayden what our father’s business entails?”

She turned abruptly. Nicolas stood against the opposite desk, appearing bored. He hadn’t found anything, she realized with sinking disappointment. 

She didn’t know what she’d expected. Maybe she’d thought the journals wouldn’t be work related at all, but filled to the brim with disreputable evidence. Evidence that could somehow bring Celeste to her knees. Instead, they were all numbers, all legal descriptions.

“Weapon artillery,” Cole responded briskly, distracted as he searched in vain through the ledgers. “We produce ammunition.”

It was a bit disconcerting to admit that she hadn’t known that bit of information earlier. She’d known Cole inherited the company from his father, and that he’d struggled to keep it from sinking into irreversible debt, but she never knew the details.

Nicolas smiled thinly. “And did you tell her what
kind
of ammunition you produce?” His eyes gleamed. “And who is your top clientele?”

Hayden narrowed her eyes on the rogue Alpha. Clearly, when Nicolas was bored, he created his own source of entertainment. Often times, it was destructive entertainment.

Cole slammed down a stack of ledgers, frustration coming off him in waves. Like his brother, he discovered nothing of importance. He pressed a hand against his forehead, thinking, and possibly just ignoring Nicolas.

Seconds later, after many heartbeats of silence, he answered the question. “We produce many varieties of ammunition, especially for rifles. However, our chief producing ammunition is silver bullets.” He glanced at Hayden from over his shoulder. “Our biggest clientele are Hunters.”

Somehow, the revelation did not shock her as much as it should have.

“Xavier Slayter was on good terms with the Hunters.” Nicolas pushed off from the desk and gazed around the office. “As was Logan Crow. They were both traditional wolves who supported the Hunters and the idea of executing troublesome rogues.”

“And Celeste clearly supports the exact opposite,” she surmised. “She’d rather have the rogues flourish. Is that why she killed her mate? And…” she trailed off, glancing between Nicolas and Cole.

It was probably for the best she didn’t add Marie and Xavier to that list.

“There is more to it than simple principles,” Nicolas answered. “Celeste and Logan were both temperamental and opinionated. Both possessing very strong personalities. I find it hard to believe they resorted to murder over a simple disagreement.”

He pivoted to look at Cole, his face morphing into one of blasé curiosity. “Aren’t you wondering why our father invested so much into
this
business?” He held out a hand, indicating the musty office. “This investment caused our father’s business to crumble.” 

Somehow, amongst the three of them, Nicolas appeared the most out of place in the dusty office. He stood tall, proud, naturally exuding an air of pure prestige and bored arrogance. It was if he knew
everything
and was waiting patiently for Cole and Hayden to catch up to him, to put the pieces together.

Knowing Nicolas, he probably
did
know the answers to his own questions.

“For legal and financial advice, of course,” Cole replied stiffly. “Isn’t that what the sign says above the office doors?”

Hayden was taken aback at the bitter sarcasm in Cole’s voice. He didn’t want to be here, digging into Celeste’s past. He was frustrated and impatient with the lack of answers.

She could relate.

Hardly taking offense at the acidic response, Nicolas plucked a photograph from the desk. “Let us hope Logan’s business partner is still alive and well.” He peered down at the dusty frame before removing the photo from inside. “Considering the office is still standing, unused, is a good sign.”

“Not entirely unused,” she muttered darkly. “It’s being used to lure werewolves into death traps.”

“Just naïve, silly saviors,” Nicolas countered, taking interest in Hayden.

Ignoring his jab and close observation, she ran a hand through her hair, composing her thoughts. It didn’t make sense. It was too ironic that Logan Crow’s office was now being used by humans as hunting grounds. The smell of death and silver was still so strong, surely the humans hadn’t caught
that
many werewolves.

Her eyes landed on the large safety box across the room. The lockbox was as tall as Cole and double in width. Her hopes sunk when she realized it was open and empty. However, as her eyes dropped, she noticed the scratch marks on the floor.

Cole noticed it at the same time.

Her Alpha studied the markings, most likely deducing they were from the large safety box being pushed aside numerous of times.

Pressing his palms against the side of the safe, he pushed. The metal squealed and carved a new set of deep grooves into the floor. As it was pushed aside, however, a doorway revealed hidden steps into the basement.

Hayden perked up and eagerly stepped closer. Before she got too close, a warm hand curled challengingly around her neck, stopping her in her tracks.

“Let us clear the way first,” Nicolas murmured, tightening his hand warningly.

She flashed him a sharp canine, showing him exactly what she thought about
that
order. He only smirked in response, crowding behind Cole and diligently following him down the stairs.

Basking in a nearly visible aura of offense, Hayden charged after them, not one to be left behind for protection. She remained a persistent presence at their backs, acknowledging the impossibility of charging past their brute bodies to get to the basement first, but hoping they realized their concern was unwarranted.  

The temperature dropped significantly the further they traveled below ground level. The cemented walls and stairs were cracked and stained with aging mildew. It was wet, and death and suffering fumigated the heavy air.

She pressed closer to the males in front of her, peeking over their shoulders and into the empty basement. There was no threat to be seen. What used to be was long gone.

Despite the smell and the mildew, the cellar was almost sterile in appearance.

There were two prison cells lining the walls, their bars still intact regardless of what creature Hayden imagined inhabited the prison. Inside the cages, chains hooked onto the cement walls, their shackles open and growing layers of dust.

Hayden stepped off the last stair and entered the small basement. There were echoes of pain here, of death. The scent of silver had seeped into the cracks of the basement’s very foundation, the poisonous aroma still prevailing after many years of abuse.

“What…” she trailed off, a loss for words.

A solid table, equipped with shackles, sat against the wall. Glass vials, empty for the most part, were shattered on the ground or abandoned by their owner. Inching closer to the table, she spied several long-needle syringes.

From the strong scent of death, Hayden had expected a corpse to greet them in a dark corner. Only, there were no bodies, only the lasting memory of what must have been dozens upon dozens of deaths.

She felt empty, unnerved.

“Did Celeste start her work here?” she asked the equally silent and observing brothers. “Or was Logan dabbling in his own experiments?”

“Either scenario is possible,” Cole replied. “We only have our assumptions. No one can confirm what transpired down here.”

“We can confirm that Logan was aware of it. Either that, or he was painfully and ignorantly blind,” Nicolas countered. “It appears as if he
wasn’t
the saint everyone hailed him to be.” He sighed airily. “I suppose we need to track down his business partner.”

Summoning the extracted picture from his jacket, he displayed it to Cole and Hayden. She saw an older male standing with a woman and a younger man. They were positioned in front of a house with a traditional picket fence.

“Logan’s business partner was human?” Hayden asked abruptly, observing the older male’s greying hair. A werewolf did not have grey hair.

“It appears that way.” Nicolas placed the photograph back into his pocket. “We will need to set the office on fire. While it won’t stop speculations of who and
what
killed the men, it’s best to destroy what evidence we can.”

He retreated up the steps, Cole following his lead.

Hayden lingered, staring once more at her surroundings. Goose bumps danced across her arms at the distant echoes. She could only imagine how many haunted spirits remained behind, trapped by their tortured and pained demise.

Such desperate isolation… she could only imagine what Cole had gone through… what Nicolas had experienced… what all those men and women were forced to endure.

The werewolf community might label Nicolas as a cruel villain. And while that may be true for the most part, Hayden did not see an evil greater than Celeste.

“Hayden.”

Turning, she spied Cole waiting for her. Despite his weakening appearance, his eyes were warm and focused. He held out a hand, waiting for her to grasp it. With her heart in her throat, she grabbed it and held tight.