Happiness is Earned (Second Chances Book 3), page 45
Tonight is the night for answers.
As I pull up outside The Wild Hunt, I cut the engine and dismount my bike. I tuck the keys into my pocket, but I know not a single fucker would risk touching it anyway. The smell of gasoline lingers in the air as I secure my helmet, tucking it under my arm. I glance up at the bar’s sign, a majestic lion with a penetrating gaze. Because why wouldn’t Atticus, and our lineage of Alpha lions, be the brand for every successful business in our pride?
When I push open the door, I’m hit by a wave of low sounds and strong scents—a lethal combination that tells me more than enough about everyone in here. The dimly lit interior is packed with people, their voices mingling together in a low hum. The air is thick with the scent of anxiety, like a nervous sweat clinging to the skin. A subtle hint of jealousy wafts past me, tinged with the bitterness of envy.
The aroma of excitement fills the air, electric and charged like lightning before a storm. Underneath it all, a layer of sadness lingers, like a heavy fog that refuses to lift. The smell of smoke and alcohol mingles with these emotional scents, creating a complex and overwhelming olfactory experience. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, highlighting the subtle shifts in people’s moods.
I make my way to my usual booth, sliding into the cracked leather seat, a smugness radiating from me as no less than seven people flee the place just in case tonight is their night for the fox to call. The table is sticky with spilled drinks, which pisses me off since I’ve been out of town for a few days and never leave my table a mess.
Someone will pay for that.
The air around me is thick with the smell of stale beer and fruity cocktails. But it’s home in a way that the manor will never be. This is the only place where the people here truly understand the call of the darkness, they truly understand what it means to take a life because you’re paid for it.
The door opens, and my eyes widen when I spot a lion in disguise, but a smile flits across my face nonetheless. Maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe there is someone in the manor who can understand exactly how I’m feeling because he lives even more in the darkness than I do.
I catch the eye of the bartender, a burly man with a bushy beard and a stern expression. He’s not my usual ally, but he’s a decent guy. He nods at me, as if acknowledging my presence, before turning back to the row of bottles behind him. I know he’ll keep an eye on things for me, even if he doesn’t say anything.
Cevon grabs his attention, and I wonder how things are going to play out for the lion. He’s not an unfamiliar face around here—well, when not in disguise—and even though it’s been a good few years, he knows the score.
I lean back, my eyes scanning the room as I wait for someone to come and approach me. I put the word out that I’m in the business for information yesterday, and only the weak need to go searching. The walls are adorned with beautiful paintings of majestic landscapes, glowing with an otherworldly energy. The wooden floorboards creak underfoot, and the heavy oak furniture looks masterfully crafted despite being aged.
Cevon doesn’t head to my table, which is both surprising and expected, and I can’t see what drink he’s got, so I’m not even sure if we’re using the same code.
“Make it a little more obvious that you’re watching, why don’t you?” he says as he greets one of the boars in the back corner. Ugh. Boars.
I smirk and nod my head to Johnny, who has just come out of the back room. He starts pouring me a drink, and once it’s done, he slides it down the bar to one of the new lads. The young eagle seems eager as he heads this way.
“Thanks,” I say, tipping my head. He grins before turning away, and Johnny returns my nod in thanks. What does he take me for? It’s not like I’d be mean to his kid.
“Mind your own,” I say back to Cevon before taking a long sip of my drink.
As I wait for someone to approach me, I can’t help but feel like I’m being watched—by more than just Cevon. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I have to resist the urge to find out who. It’s not paranoia, not entirely. The Wild Hunt is a place where secrets are kept, and people are always listening.
I just don’t like that I’m a target. I can handle it, I’ve been coming here for years, and it’s very rare that someone can get the drop on me, but on a night like tonight, I’m not impressed.
I might not be Atticus, but in the seedy underbelly of the Phoenix Pride, The Fox is the name that everyone fears. Once you enter my sights, there is no escape until I know everything about you.
This is my world, and, in here, I’m judge, jury, and executioner.
They all know the rumours, but maybe… maybe it’s time that I show them why I’m The Fox.
Weak men don’t put on the kind of show I’m about to.
I down my drink and rise to my feet, eyes darting my way before they all return to their conversations. Sometimes, I’m good at disappearing into the background, hiding from those who seek to find me so that I can achieve whatever I’m hired to do.
Other times, I’m larger than life, drawing every eye my way, my personality and strength impossible to ignore.
I place the cup on the table before walking over to the bar. Johnny sighs.
“Really?” he asks, keeping his voice low so his words don’t echo. I nod, and he groans but quickly clears a space atop the bar. I jump up on it, stamping my foot twice, and that’s all it takes for every single eye to dart my way.
“I put out a call earlier today for answers, answers I know at least three people in this room have,” I say, looking around. Don’t get me wrong, the statistic was pulled out of my ass, but it’s probably not inaccurate. “I did offer a reward to anyone who delivered me something useful. If you needed a debt wiped, a problem solved, or information given, I’d have helped.”
There’s a beat of silence before a dark look appears on my face.
“Alas, nobody bothered to take me up on my very generous offer. So, now we’re to the threats portion of this show. You do not want to reach the action portion of this evening.”
“And what if we do?” Jeremiah, a cheetah shifter, asks.
“Jeremiah. Eldest son of Amara and Kofi Makuri, two elderly cheetah shifters living in a small pride in Wales, who you send cuts of your pay to every month to subsidise their retirement,” I say, keeping my tone calm as I look at him seriously. He doesn’t back down, not yet scared. I’m not surprised. He’s not that concerned about his parents.
Not when the reason that his father is in a wheelchair is because he made it so.
Pretty ruthless, actually, tying himself to these people with a paper trail in the hopes that one of his enemies tries to harm them.
If I was weak, I’d do the same thing.
“Of course, that’s all a show. The real prize in your family is your baby sister, Amani. She’s been sold… three times now? I wonder if a fourth time is what it’ll take to finally break her.”
Women are typically safe from harm from me, although, I’d never admit that as a weakness.
He darts to his feet and charges my way just in time for me to gracefully hop off the bar and sidestep him. I see Cevon move in the background, but I pray to fucking god he lets me handle this my way.
We’re on the same team, but if he can’t back my plays, then he’s worthless to me.
I grab Jeremiah’s arm and twist it behind his back, applying pressure until he’s forced to his knees.
“Consider this a warning,” I say, my voice low and menacing. “Cross me again, and I’ll make sure you and your pretty little sister regret it.”
I throw him forward, kicking him once for good measure. He slumps forward, gasping for breath like the dramatic peasant he is. The room is silent, waiting to see what I’ll do next.
“Let this be a warning to you all. I know everything about everyone, and I want the answers you hold. Pay up, or your family pays the price.”
There’s a scramble of activity as I walk back over to my table, and without even needing to ask, Johnny’s son puts a drink on my table and walks away as the first person takes a seat.
“Good show,” Cevon says, turning back to the people he’s chatting with. “But will it yield any results?”
“Let’s make a bet, pretty boy,” I counter. “If I walk out of here tonight with less than five people giving me information, I’ll owe you a favour.”
“Eight,” Cevon replies.
I nod as I look at the tiger in front of me. “So, Marcel, what have you got for me?”
“You’ve been asking about the snake—Sebastian Viper—right?” he asks, and I give him a bored look. If I engage, he’ll give me the bare minimum.
If I act like everything he gives me is useless, I’ll get more than he ever planned on giving away.
“I’ve heard rumblings—”
“Are you really willing to risk your mate’s life on rumblings?”
He shakes his head, fear filling his eyes. “I know for a fact. He’s been undercutting deals that he’s making lately. He owes a lot of people money and people are coming for him. I know a few of the names but not all of them.”
That’s fine. Micah can start looking into that for me.
“He’s a desperate man,” Marcel continues. His voice drops to a whisper as he looks around the room. “And I know he’s working with someone to betray the King.”
“Yeah?” I ask, and he gives one nod. “Then why haven’t you brought this up to Atticus or his people? Do you really think that telling it to me now is you doing your part?”
“He’s not been around—”
“Plans like this don’t occur overnight, Marcel. They’re born of desperation, sure, but they take time. Atticus has been back for over twenty-four hours, Orson’s been back for two days. You could have even mentioned this before we went away.”
His eyes flash amber, his inner tiger furious at the way his human is behaving. The tiger sighs.
“I take it you’ll be making sure Atticus is aware of your hearings?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
He gives me a little extra information, but, ultimately, he doesn’t know much. He’s replaced by another, and by the end of the night I’ve tripled the bet Cevon and I had.
Between those who are sitting chatting to me, sheets of paper with information, and even texts, I’ve got a good few leads to hunt down.
I leave the bar and slowly start sorting out my bike so that I can leave. Cevon’s not far behind me, and when I take off, he changes into his lion and runs through the trees by me. I don’t want to lead him home—this conversation shouldn’t be had with listening ears.
Listening moral ears, that is.
I turn into a park and can’t hear or scent a single person around. The sun is starting to rise, the air cool and crisp, and the deserted nature of the area soothes my inner fox.
The lion trots towards me on silent paws before shifting into his human form. He adjusts his hair, tying the bobble tighter, and gives me a sardonic grin.
“What did you find out then?” Cevon asks.
“A fucking shit ton,” I say, turning off the ignition. I turn to face him properly, still sitting on my bike, and shrug. “Some of it has been shared a few times, so I’m taking it as gospel for now. Some of it only one person shared, and I don’t trust the validity of that.”
“Then tell me what’s been found.” A smirk appears on his face as he takes a seat on a swing.
I put my helmet on the bike and go sit on the one next to him. Not that it’s a competition, but I am swinging higher than he is.
“Sebastian Viper is up in shit creek. His photo in the binder you found makes sense, but I’m still struggling to piece together some of the information. I’ve got two theories. One is that from the moment he joined this pride, he’s been slowly working his way up, trying to get information that can help the hunters.”
“But he’s not worked very high up,” Cevon counters. “He was underneath Nora, right?”
“She’s smart, you know,” I say, turning to give him a dirty look. It’s not very effective since I’m going back and forth in front and behind him, but the reprimand is hopefully still in my tone. “She was quite high within the company.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Cevon says dismissively. “But Nora’s been in the company for what? Couple years? He’s fifteen years her senior. He hasn’t done a very good job of progressing.”
“Which leads me to my second theory,” I say. “I think he’s been trying to double cross them for a while. I looked into him a little while back and noticed that in the first three years of employment, he was putting in the graft. He was determined to be the best he could be.”
“But then it stopped?”
I nod. “He’s got six weeks of holidays to take, and he always takes a fortnight on the exact same dates every single year. I never really cared, thinking it was some family event or some shit.”
“But it could be a date where he goes back to whichever circuit of hunters he’s with.”
“Exactly.”
“Fucking hell,” Cev groans. “What was the bit about him being in debt?”
“I’ve got no records of that myself, but I’ll get Micah to look into it properly. I think he’s trying to make some desperate plays to get out of this shit with the hunters.”
“Which could make him an ally,” Cevon murmurs.
“Not for us,” I warn. “But, yes. If they can get him into detox… he might eventually manage to prove his use.”
“That’s a good thing. Did you find anything about Lainey or…?”
I sigh, rubbing at the back of my neck. “Your circuit of hunters isn’t the only one in the area.”
“I know that. Atticus’s pride takes up a good fucking portion of the North East. Of course, there’s more than one group circling.”
“Okay, but the issue, Cev, is that this network isn’t coming after Atticus. They’re coming after you.”
“Fuck,” he groans.
“From the rumblings, I surmise that it might be Lainey’s people. Have you been doing anything different?”
Cevon frowns. “Not enough to trigger this.”
“Then maybe Micah and Malachi stumbled across something they shouldn’t have in their searches the other week,” I say, jumping off the swing and turning to face him. “Fuck. That’s not good, if that’s the case.”
Cevon’s eyes are wide with alarm, too. “No, it’s really not. We’re going to have to speed up our plans.”
“That fucking murder board was a good idea,” I say, shaking my head. “But when we use the nuclear option on your circuit… it’s going to have to coincide with their raid.”
“Do we have any idea on when it’ll be coming?”
I shake my head. “Nope. But we’ll figure it out.”
We’ve got no choice.
Six years ago, Kennedy rejected Nora and put her fate on the same wavelength as mine—and the rest of our pack.
Five years ago, Lainey was murdered, and she sent Cevon’s trajectory into our path.
But now, the sins of Kennedy and Lainey have fucked us over, and we’re having to pay for their mistakes.
Well, I dealt with my family’s problems all those years ago.
And I’m going to deal with my new family’s in the exact same way.
Bloodshed.
Death.
Mayhem.
I’m The Fox, and the time for vengeance is coming.
34
NORA
I grab the clear plastic bag—a terrible design, if you ask me—that contains the seven boxes I bought yesterday.
Everyone is out—well, Devoss is home, but he’s in the land of unconsciousness after being out all night. Cevon has a therapy session, but I have no doubt he’ll join Voss in going to sleep when he’s home—and we had a quick breakfast together, but it’s the first time I’m not sad to be home alone.
I lock my bedroom door, hoping nobody comes home to surprise me, and creep into the bathroom. I’m not sure why I feel so guilty, as if I’m doing something immoral or wrong. This is exciting.
Even if it feels strange.
My phone beeps, and I glance down at it once I’m safely tucked away in the bathroom.
Ari
Have you taken them yet?
She’s been hounding me since yesterday when I got back, asking if I’ve taken them, but I didn’t want to do it when my mates were around, just in case.
Just in case what, I’m not sure. I’m not sure which response I’m fearing most, though.
Nora
No. I’ve got them ready. I just need a cup.
Ari
A cup?
Are you able to pee on seven pregnancy tests using the same stream of wee?
I snort as she immediately calls me. I swipe to answer, putting it on speaker, and put the phone on top of the counter as I grab one of the disposable cups from the bathroom cabinet.
They’re eco-friendly, and Orson got them for me. During my depression haze, I was terrible at washing my cup at nighttime and went without water, instead.
This way, I didn’t need to try and keep on top of it, nor did any of the others.
Sometimes, taking the easier way out to do something is better because at least it gets done.
Can’t brush your teeth? Use some gum.
Can’t be bothered to make food? Order a takeaway.
Don’t have a clean spoon? Use a ladle.
There’s easy “hacks” to everything, and if it’s the difference between not meeting a need or fitting into a box deemed appropriate by society, meet your own god damn needs every single time.
“Why are you taking seven at once?” she demands instead of greeting me.
“Because I have seven mates?” I counter, and she groans. “What? If I only did one, they’d fight over who got to keep it. This way, they can keep, bin, or frame their own pee stick.”
Or, at least, Orson and Cevon are going to want to keep it. Micah would low-key want it, and he’d be sad he’d not win against the more dominant males, but he’d not outwardly complain. Griffin would probably want one, and Malachi just wouldn’t want to be left out.
