Oliver smiled, patting Mina’s bum as she gurgled against his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Wallace is awesome, Maya’s a sassy bitch and Duncan’s just a bit of a prat, but a harmless prat. With brains like yours you’ll be running the ship in no time.”
Oliver wasn’t wrong; technically speaking, he was overqualified for the job. He remembered how the sweet little old lady in recruitment had squinted at him over the top of her glasses. “You have a master’s degree in mathematics and biochemistry, is that right, Mr McArthur?”
Pember had nodded and given a polite smile. “Yes, but outside of the test environments at university, my practical experience is limited.”
The lady had nodded and turned back to his CV. “You’ve read the job description, yes? You realise that as an entry level SOCO, your duties will mostly be analysing toxicology samples, collecting histology tissue from post-mortems, photographing crime scenes and producing drink drive reports for the courts?”
Pember nodded, trying his best to look confident.
Two weeks later he’d received a formal job offer and a training package from West Newton Constabulary, a full-time position as a Scenes of Crime Officer. Then, a week after that he’d quit his apprenticeship at PharmaBright and blown a goodportion of his meagre savings on a down payment for his rental. All in all, escaping his mother had cost him everything.
When Oliver said his goodbyes, Pember’s brain began sinking into its usual pit of despair. Bailey pawed at the door, hackles raised and impatient to be let out. He knew how she felt.
Shuffling from foot to foot, he started to tug off his clothes and set them on top of the washing machine. It had turned into a beautiful afternoon. The sun was high and the air was crisp, and there really was no reason for himnotto shift. But… images of his mum still flashed through his mind like slides on an old projector.
Shaking his head, he pulled his jeans and navy jumper back on and grabbed the tie he’d worn for his interview as a makeshift lead. In wolf form, he could have easily kept up with Bailey, but as a human… Well, she really did take the piss sometimes.
“Come on, my girl. Let’s go for a walk and figure out what we’re going to do with you.”
Bailey barked, her lips pulling back in a canine smile as she pushed against the front door. Maybe some fresh air would do them both good.
Pember’s trainers were not equipped to deal with the damp undergrowth blanketing the woodland at the back of his house. He’d had to leave his beloved walking boots at his mum’s, because they’d have been the first thing she would have noticed missing. However, despite his wet feet and Bailey’s incessant need to sniff every tree in sight, Pember found his brain beginning to settle with every unsteady step.
Plodding up a steep bank, he scaled a verge and found a lovely little copse of trees. The sweet scent of apples drifted intohis nose, and for the first time in a long time he felt at ease. He already knew the approaching night would plague him with bad dreams, so, tipping his head back, he let the temporary sense of calm wash over him.
Maybe hecoulddo this. Perhaps hecouldstrike out on his own. An omega, alone and without a mate. If the last twelve months had proven anything, it was that he was nowhere near ready to dive back into the dating world, let alone pursue anything more. His mother had pushed him, and pushed him, andpushedhim to find a mate. But, as time went on he’d realised it was just another form of control. Find him someone awful so he’d go crawling back when it all went tits up.
Shaking the thoughts away, he ambled through the copse, breaking the tree-line and emerging onto another grassy bank. He sniffed, vaguely aware of his omega wolf standing to attention. There was a scent in the air, something deep, and smooth, and… melancholy. Like wilting lilies in a vase.
He followed it, cresting the brow of the hill and gazing down at the town below. West Newton. It was a strange place, with its little pockets of activity interspersing the acres upon acres of farmland. It was not a town one might expect to find much opportunity, but if the recent sex trafficking scandal had taught him anything, it was never to take a place at face value.
Inhaling again, he scanned the hillside for the source of the scent, eyes falling upon a dark clothed figure in the distance. A person. A man, standing dangerously close to the edge of a sheer drop. Pember squinted. From what he could see, the man had his hands in his pockets with his head tipped back, looking somewhere between the sky and the middle distance.
Stumbling forwards, Pember brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright late-morning sunshine. Before he even realised it, his feet were carrying him in the direction of the scentandthe man he assumed was connected to it. It wasn’t until hegot closer that he saw the side of the man’s face, his tense jaw tipped up slightly, eyes half hooded and despondent. He looked hopeless, like he’d just received the worst news in the world.
The wind was picking up, but still the man didn’t move from the edge.Doesn’t he know he could get blown over?Doing so would send him tumbling down and down and down until he was nothing but a pulpy mess in the middle of the tracks.
Tracks? There are no tracks.
Pember broke into a run, sprinting across the brow of the hill. The man was so close, he could probably yank him back if he chose that moment to drop forwards. Bailey yapped, nipping at Pember’s heels, and the man’s head titled at the sound.
“You’ll remember me, won’t you, Pem? I’m glad you’re here, with me… at the end.”
Scrunching his eyes shut, he ran at the man, full tilt, grabbing his shoulder and whirling him around. The grab was so violent that the man’s shoulder smashed into Pember’s face with enough force to rattle his teeth. The man reeled back, then forwards as the rocks beneath his feet crumbled and clattered.
“What the—” he shouted, as Pember reached up and grabbed his other shoulder, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
“Don’t do it! Please don’t do it!” Pember cried, trying to hold the man’s arms to prevent him from rolling over the edge.
The man only flailed, quickly getting the better of Pember with his greater weight and height. Pember was slammed onto his back with the man towering over him on one knee. Fresh mud coated the stranger's black tracksuit as he grabbed Pember’s coat in a tight fist, pinning him roughly to the hard, damp ground.
His bearing was unmistakable—tall, strong and exuding a raw, primal energy that could have only made him an alpha. The man’s features were all angles—deep brows, sharp jaw, even sharper canines, topped by a mess of tawny brown hair.
“Just what thehelldo you think you’re doing?” he growled, voice rough as he leaned down to twist his fist tighter into the front of Pember’s coat.
“I-I-I…” he stuttered, feeling as though his tongue had been nailed to his back teeth.
The alpha snarled, and time seemed to stop as Pember stared up at his eyes—one blue, the other green.
