Chapter 4 : Julian

"I only know so much," Lucas explained, hands raised like a sinner asking for forgiveness.

Amelia had pressed him for over an hour now, trying to drag out every last detail. This felt right, this felt more steady. The investigation, the preparation for a counterattack, that was what she was trained for. Action kept her from feeling the raw blister of pain that was forming in her chest, and she would do anything to stave off that pain.

"Go over it again," she demanded.

"Your father heard them before we did. He stepped away to investigate. Before any of us could follow up, they were on him. They had knives dipped in Wolfsbane to keep him from healing from the attack. They didn't wear any kind of markings to indicate their pack. They said nothing. Whatever message they were trying to send, it started and ended with the murder of your father," Lucas repeated, running a hand through his hair.

His story was solid. He had told the same thing over and over, every detail consistent. Amelia wasn't suspicious of him, she just kept hoping he might remember something new. Unfortunately, this was all she had to work with right now.

Maybe she should talk to some of the other members of the pack.

"Alright, alright," Amelia said, taking her turn to use a soothing tone. She shouldn't press him so hard, he was dealing with this trauma too.

"Listen, I've got more stuff that needs to be sorted out. Do you think maybe we could revisit this later?" he suggested.

Instantly, she felt guilty. Of course, he had other stuff to deal with. He played a vital role in this pack, and he was there witnessing the attack. She was being too hard on him. Maybe she was doing that to distract herself from how blindingly handsome he was, but he wasn't her toy to play with. She needed to remember that.

"Yeah, of course, sorry. I'll find you tomorrow, maybe we can go over all of this with some of the others that were there too. I know it was a small group. I'd like to speak with them. And, you should get some rest," Amelia suggested.

Lucas looked genuinely grateful that her Spanish Inquisition had come to an end. He lingered on the bed though, seemingly unwilling to leave just yet.

"You know if you need anything, I wasn't kidding when I said you could call me anytime. I keep my phone on me at all times. You're the new priority," he said gently.

Amelia felt she didn't deserve his gentleness. She had been hounding him for an hour now about details that were clearly difficult to relive, never mind the fact he had better things to be attending to. She softened her features, her voice turning sweet.

"Thank you, Lucas, truly. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you," she said.

"Anytime," he said. He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before finally standing and finding his way to her open bedroom door. He hesitated for a moment in the doorway, his movements lurching and awkward as if he couldn't decide whether or not to turn around or just go.

Amelia wondered what could possibly be on his mind. Was there something else he wanted to tell her? Did he remember something? He would tell her in his own time, whenever that was.

Finally, he turned, deciding no further departing message was necessary. His footsteps faded down the hallway, and Amelia found herself alone again.

She laid back on the bed, staring out the window. Some of the clouds had cleared away, allowing a few bright stars to blink through the gloom. Still, the eerie glow of moonlight provided more than enough light to illuminate the trees outside. Oranges, reds, browns, and a few unique yellow trees created a patchwork quilt.

Tomorrow, like every day this year, would bring warm sunshine and deep blue skies. Tomorrow, she would bury her father. While she was glad that he would get one last moment of sun on his face before he was laid to rest forever, it seemed almost irreverent.

The weather should have the decency to be gloomy. Couldn't they get a few storm clouds and a rumble of thunder? Maybe a few drops of life-giving rain? Her mind flashed back to the puddles of blood in the foyer. Was that not sacrifice enough?

This drought seemed to have no end. The grass outside was brown and brittle. The pond was drying, leaving cracked earth at its edges. That was the world they would bury her father in. The dirt over his grave would dry to dust and would have to be soaked artificially to ensure it didn't blow away and leave him exposed.

That felt like a metaphor. That grief had dried up her outer defenses and left her exposed. She had no idea what she was doing. She'd been shadowing her father for the last two years, but she still only had a surface-level understanding of what it meant to be Alpha.

Amelia considered crying again. She imagined as her head hung off the edge of the bed, that the tears would drip up her forehead, leaving a more confusing mess of mascara. So, she decided it was better not to let the tears come. There had been enough crying already.

The irony was not lost on her. She debated the need for rain as she considered she'd cried enough. Maybe the skies felt the same. They had no tears left to cry, leaving behind cracked, parched earth.

Perhaps that was a prophecy for her reign as Alpha. Dark, dying times, with no rain. Her mother had once told her that rain was needed to fully appreciate the sunny days. At the time, Amelia had been annoyed that rain was preventing her from playing outside.

Now, she realized the beauty of the rain, the feeling of a cozy autumn storm, the rolling thunder bringing a respite from the burn of summer.

If she fretted over her new duties for too long, she'd never appreciate the opportunity that it was. She was better off ignoring it, and just stepping into the role without worrying for too long. It was time for action, and allowing fear to paralyze her only inhibited that.

Fine.

She climbed to her feet. First, she should wash her face. She walked to the door, peering down the hallway to ensure it was empty before proceeding to the communal bathroom.

Amelia was studying her bare feet, wondering if she should have put on at least some slippers, when she collided with something.

It felt like a solid wall. However, this solid wall had arms, arms of thick, ropy muscle that gripped her and held her steady to keep her from falling.

Amelia's head snapped up, her golden eyes meeting dark eyes.

"Sorry, I don't know how I didn't see you," the owner of the eyes announced.

He was still holding her firmly, and as she started to open her mouth to respond, he must have realized it. He dropped his arms to his side.

He wasn't as tall as Lucas, but he was more muscular. Amelia forced her eyes to stay locked with his, to prevent her from staring down at his thick thighs.

"It was my fault, I should have been paying more attention," Amelia apologized.

Julian.

The name finally popped into her head, reminding her of who this was. Julian worked most often in the training center. He helped most of the other guys with their weight lifting, which explained why he was absolutely ripped.

His face was soft and kind. It wasn't quite as angular as Lucas', which made him look more boyish, though he was a full two years older than Lucas was. He had golden, warm skin, and dark, molten eyes that made Amelia scramble for something that made sense to say.

"No big deal at all. I'm sure you've got a lot on your mind," he assured her, his voice deep and rich.

Tattoos inked his arms, crawling in spirals up to his neck. Amelia forced herself not to think about where the tattoos stopped or started.

"Yeah, I guess," Amelia answered, trying to decide if she should step around him, or if he would move. She was getting self-conscious, desperate to get to wash her face.

"I was actually hoping to get to talk to you," he said, the rumble of his voice keeping Amelia frozen in her tracks.

To talk to her? Her heart stuttered in her chest. What could he want from her? They knew each other on the surface level at best. She could count on one hand the number of conversations she'd had with this man.

"Oh? What's up?" she asked, mouth dry.

"I just think it's important that we get a jump on pursuing the rogues. We can't let this go unpunished," he said. His voice had gone from kind and almost sultry, to hard and determined.

"Obviously," Amelia answered, feeling irritated. She wasn't sure why his two sentences annoyed her already, but it rubbed her the wrong way.

Did he think that she would just let them get away with this? It was her father. He could at least have the decency to have a little faith in her. And give her a little time to mourn.

"I'm working on it. I was just talking to Lucas—"

"Lucas moves too slow. I've been working on a plan to get some of the guys mobilized. I think it could really work, and they'd never see us coming if we mobilize fast," Julian continued, basically bowling over her verbally.

"I'm trying to make it through the funeral ceremony tomorrow first. You've got to give me a minute to catch up," she retorted, eyebrows furrowing.

"Listen, I don't mean to overstep, but I really think this should be the number one priority. The burial will be there when we've claimed the victory," Julian suggested harshly.

"You're overstepping." Amelia stepped around him, continuing toward the bathroom.

"We need to—" Julian attempted to continue.

"I'll find you when the ceremony is over. We can go over strategies then," Amelia called over her shoulder, cutting him off like he'd done to her earlier.

Amelia didn't wait to see if he would respond. She stomped into the women's bathroom and opened her locker. She had originally planned to just wash her face, but now she wanted to hide here for a little longer. She decided a hot shower would be enough time to process the interaction she just had.

She let the water heat until it left red streaks on her skin when she got in. Where did he get the nerve to speak to her like that?

Probably the same place he got those incredible muscles.

Amelia could feel herself warring with her baser instincts. Today was emotional. She would use that as an excuse, even as she allowed herself to consider the interactions she'd had with not one, but two very handsome men this evening. She wouldn't feel guilty, even as she seethed over Julian's overstepping.

She was in trouble in more ways than one.