Chapter 9: Coffee And Scones

The car ride isn’t nearly long enough to settle my nerves.

What shakes me even more is that it’s obvious we’re not stopping at the town square where the offices are.

We’re at the coffee shop deep into town.

The car pulls into a space right up front and I turn to Angela, “is this right?”

“Yes. Alpha Horace wanted to meet here and I quote, ‘they serve the best scones’.”

“I didn’t know he liked scones.”

Angela stares at me with a flat look. Right, don’t keep him waiting.

The valet opens the door and I step out. I run my hands down the front of my blazer, suddenly thankful that Angela picked out my clothes this morning. At least I wouldn’t be meeting Alpha Horace in a bloody hoodie and ripped jeans today. I think that counts as a win.

A bell rings as I open the door. I’m greeted by a sweet woman behind the counter. Alpha Horace is easy to spot because his presence alone takes up so much space in such a small building.

“Hi, Alpha,” I greet as I take a seat across from him. The table seems almost too small for his much larger frame, so much so, that the coffee pot, mugs, and plate of scones feels crowded.

“Good afternoon, Cayden.”

Alpha Horace lifts the coffee pot and goes to pour me a cup. I can’t let him do that. What if someone from the pack sees the previous king ‘serve’?

“Um…no thanks. I had plenty with Kline this morning.”

“Oh, you met with Kline already?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

"Right to business, I like that." Maverick’s dad puts the coffee back and takes a scone for himself. It’s covered in glaze and I can see the chocolate chips. They were the chunky kind.

I know exactly where Maverick gets his love of sweets from.

And that’s what I try to remember as I sit in the presence of greatness. Alpha Horace was Alpha King, but he’s also Maverick’s dad and he watched me grow up. Watching him eat a scone with crumbs falling and getting caught into his beard makes him oddly human.

I look around while I wait for Alpha Horace to explain why I’m here. Angela’s warning is fresh in my mind.

I don't come this far into town often, but just from the ambiance, I can see why Alpha Horace would come here. It’s quaint. Which is not something I’d describe Alpha Horace as, but it’s hard not to feel at peace with the scenic music and low lights.

“I have a task for you,” Alpha Horace says, pulling my attention back to him.

“Of course. Anything.”

Alpha Horace chuckles, “that enthusiasm will take you far, yet be sure to remember you serve Maverick.”

“I do. But I’m also here for the pack. Whatever they might need.”

I remember Maverick’s words, ‘I’m doing what’s best for the pack’. If that’s how Maverick feels, then that alone invalidates Kline’s view of what a Beta is.

Alpha Horace nods in what I hope is acceptance.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. He slides it across the table and my throat dries up. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s something cosmic or a warning from the Moon Goddess. My wolf bristles.

Whatever is written on this paper isn’t going to be good news.

I reach for it and hold it carefully in my hand. It’s folded and I look at him. He nods and I unfold it.

Annabelle Maye: Callisto pack.

Soleil Harris: Io pack.

Regina L’rray: Europa pack.

I’m not sure what I’m looking at. It’s a list of names and I must be crazy, because this can’t be what I think it is. Could it be a hit list? Is that why Alpha Horace ruled for so long with not so much as a complaint from the people? Because he got rid of them before they could even voice their concerns.

I lower my hand under the table so he doesn’t notice that I’m shaking. This is the kind of thing that happens in movies, not in real life.

‘And come on, Cayden. You’ve known this guy since you could walk. He’s not a killer.’

A chuckle bubbles out of my mouth, likely pushed up from all the butterflies going nuts in there. Is this why he wanted to meet me in secret?

No, no way.

‘Don’t jump to conclusions now!’

“Do these names mean anything to you?” he asks and I pray my voice doesn’t crack.

“No. Should they?”

Steady.

Alpha Horace sits back in his chair and sighs.

“If I’m going to be honest, this is a task that Maverick should take care of, except he’s been oddly absent lately.”

Oh, shit. Maverick may be a lot of things, but a killer he most definitely is not. I think I would know better than anyone.

Or could I have been blind to his admirable personality and chiseled jawline?

I might vomit.

Nothing can be worse than this.

“I’m not sure I can help you, Alpha,” I admit. I know I shouldn’t refuse a task from him, but I can’t…I can’t off these girls. No way can their crime warrant the punishment.

“All you need to do is meet with them and decide who is worth Maverick’s time.”

What?

“I…I’m not sure I follow…”

“Since Maverick refuses to handle this matter, I’m entrusting it to you, since you know him best. You’ll need to interview these girls and decide who is the best match for Maverick. He will need a Luna.”

Seriously, what?

“Listen. These three ladies are the most suitable for Maverick based on family lineage alone. Meet with them, and following your best judgment, whomever you choose will be invited to Ganymede as a potential mate for Maverick.”

I was wrong.

This is so much worse.