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“Oh, no, no, call me Mom,” she insists. In the background, I hear my dads bombarding her with questions, but now’s not the time for that conversation.
Max clears his throat, conceding, “As you wish, Mom.”
“You chose Pack Armana!” my mom exclaims, her voice ringing with delight. Max seems oblivious to how she just played him.
“Omega Cicero,” Devlin interjects, but as soon as he speaks, my mom bursts into sobs. “How about we all visit when the snow melts, yes?”
Devlin gives me a questioning look, unaware of the significance of his offer. I nod in approval, sensing the surprise and pride flooding through the pack bond from Ashton.
Realizing that Devlin stayed behind while the others left with Max, I wonder if he often skips out on Max’s adventures. I honestly don’t think he goes along with them.
“Yes, of course,” Mom agrees wistfully. “I’ll see you soon. Send Lex my love.”
“Love you, Ma,” I say, hanging up before any more questions can arise. A heavy silence falls over us.
“If your parents didn’t approve the medication, and neither you nor Lex did...” Max starts.
“Then who the hell did?” Avery bursts out, his voice echoing in the kitchen.
I bite my cheek, thinking. “Is there a way to check the call logs?” I ask, looking at the guys hopefully.
Avery cracks his knuckles with a coy smirk. “Ashton, bring me my laptop.”
“It’s already here,” Ashton says, gesturing to the table. “The email from the institute with the security footage should be in.”
“No way,” I say, unable to hide my amusement. The thought of Avery, who hardly ever sits still, adeptly using a computer, seems almost comical.
“Yes, indeed,” Avery replies, glancing out the window. “We have about six hours of daylight left. We need to figure out their location and head out ASAP.” He slides into the booth, setting uphis laptop in front of him. His focus narrows as his fingers dance rapidly over the keyboard.
“Ashton, make sure the snowmobiles are ready to go incase Avery forgot fuel,” Max instructs.
Ashton barely waits for the command to finish before dashing out the door, but then the phone rings.
He halts and turns to glare at it, mirroring the rest of us. An ominous feeling cloaks us. Nobody wants to answer.
“Screw it,” Devlin decides, snatching the phone and setting it on the counter, switching it to speaker. “Pack Armana,” he answers with a guarded tone.
“Son,” comes Devlin’s father’s booming voice.
Devlin looks up at us, nervously licking his lips. This call is too timely to be a coincidence, but who orchestrated it? Thea isn’t this coordinated, or have I underestimated her all this time? The institute claimed she tested green. What if she’s been lucid all this time, and it’s just my bias to assume those committing terrible acts are legally insane? The thought that she might be fully aware of her actions is chilling.
“I need you to come to the condos immediately,” Devlin’s father demands.
“Father, have you seen the weather? We’re in the midst of a blizzard,” Devlin responds, his voice strained.
“Well, if you had chosen to live in the condos like the other heirs, this wouldn’t be an issue,” Devlin’s father retorts, his voice almost a growl.
“Father, our omega is in the middle of her heat,” Devlin reasons, but his father is unmoved, snorting disdainfully through the phone.
“She has Max,” he says venomously, sending chills down my spine. “Besides, I think you’d want to speak with your mother after all these years.”
The ensuing silence suffocates us, thick and heavy, as though the air itself is saturated with tension.
Devlin’s sharp intake of breath echoes through the room.
“Ah, now I have your attention.” Councilman Armana chuckles, as if this is some twisted joke. “I expect you in two hours.” The line goes dead.
“Fuck!” Devlin exclaims, pushing away from the island and tugging at his hair in frustration.
