Aiden
He stopped just inside the second set of doors, letting his senses adjust to the assault of noise. It wasn’t all that loud compared to say, a concert, but it was definitely a busy place. Conveyor belts ran here and there, zipping packages along to their destination bins. Elsewhere, larger packages were neatly arranged on pushcarts.
The concrete floor, while discolored from a lot of use, was smooth and free of debris. None of the machines seemed to squeak, and the corners were mostly devoid of dust. Stephen ran a tight ship. Not quite what he’d expected from the other man based on what he’d heard of him. Aiden had never met Stephen before, but he’d seen him at several council meetings. Mostly interrupting Mack to say disparaging things, but occasionally preaching a freer, less restrictive lifestyle when it came to putting up with humans.
His eyes roamed over the sorting and loading facility. He could see several people moving about, but their backs were to him. That was odd, but when he focused on one of them, Aiden smiled as the body language became clear. They weren’t oblivious to his presence; they were simply ignoring him. Acting as if he didn’t matter. He immediately filed them away as some of the more dangerous members of Stephen’s pack.
Every pack had a hierarchy. A ranking system. It was determined by sheer combat capability. Human or shifter, it rarely mattered how it was settled, as long as no cheap shots were taken. Fights happened all the time, and the lower ranks were usually a constant source of challenges and scraps. It was why most packs usually topped out at ten or twelve members. Any more than that, and it just became too chaotic.
According to Mack, Stephen’s pack was only seven in size. The smallest one in the city. Which likely meant the most vicious. With fewer ranks to be had, and fewer opportunities to move up, the wolves here would be fighters, one and all. Aiden would have to watch his back, just like Willow had suggested.
He smiled at the way she’d jerked when he’d said her name. There was no nametag on the desk, and he hadn’t known who she was going in. But there were several papers on the desk, all addressed to her with her last name on them. It had been child’s play for him to read them upside down.
He thought back to the cute honey blonde. She was older. Not old, but in her mid-thirties. Aiden wasn’t an excellent judge of human aging, but he felt confident about that one. As he’d grown older and entered his forties, he’d become exponentially more aware of the fact that he was no longer interested in the young college co-eds or recent grads. Aiden preferred a woman who was confident in herself, and, to put it bluntly, had her shit figured out as much as someone could be expected to.
A figure appeared around the end of the racks on his right. Short, wiry, and with a tan to his skin that suggested it was natural, not a result of excessive sunlight. He was wearing gray overalls, a white T-shirt, and, oddly enough, orange boots.
“Cute rainboots,” Aiden said.
His jab earned him a snarl.
“I see,” he said calmly, well aware of the way tensions had just ratcheted up in the building. “Well, I’m here to report to Stephen. I know you aren’t him, so could you be a dear and just run along and get him?”
He punctuated his statement with a shooing motion of his hands, effectively dismissing the shifter. Which he already had. Aiden knew his abilities, his strengths, and his speed. His animal instincts had already sized up the smaller fellow—small being a relative term, he was probably still six feet in height, but that was short compared to Aiden—and judged him as a non-threat.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Look, Snarly-and-Tanned, I’d really rather not do this.”
That wasn’t true. Aiden loved a good fight. It was part of his problem. He would fight anyone and everyone who sneezed at him wrong. Which was probably why he had few, if any, friends. None of them could put up with him and his temper issues.
Aiden wasn’t an idiot either. Just because he was prone to violence at the drop of a hair, didn’t mean he was a meathead. He was well aware of his issues, but he’d yet to find someone who could keep him in check. Even Mack was careful when and where he challenged Aiden, because he knew it wasn’t as clear cut a fight as he might wish.
Aiden had all the Alpha he could need. He just had none of the control.
“What did you just call me?” The shifter walked up to him.
“Oh, come on,” he sighed. “That’s the best you’ve got, ass-muncher? Listen, needle-dick, why don’t you run on over to get Stephen, and then you can go back to the kiddie table, m’kay, pumpkin?” He reached up and tapped the shifter’s cheek twice softly.
Just like that the fight was on. A right hook slashed at his face but Aiden was already swaying back out of reach. He reversed direction so swiftly his opponent wasn’t ready for it, smashing his head into the smaller man’s face. Aiden wasn’t particularly fond of that move, but it worked, because nobody expected it.
The shifter reeled back, his nose pouring blood, tears filling his eyes. Grimacing through the pain that filled his own head, Aiden advanced, delivering a one-two-three combination, with the final being a wicked jab right to the already-broken nose. The shifter’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the ground.
Two more shifters appeared at the end of the stacks.
“Ah, Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb,” he pronounced. Waving a finger back and forth between the two, Aiden frowned. “But which one is which? Do me a favor and help me out?”
The one on his left came forward.
“Ah, perfect. Tweedle-dee it is.”
The man was also wearing gray overalls. It must be the work uniform he decided, wondering how the hell they’d come up with something so unflattering.
Without a single word, the shifter facing him shivered for a split second and then suddenly a wolf burst forth from the tattered remnants of his clothing, shaking off the last of the rags as it snarled loudly in Aiden’s direction. By now he could see the other members of the pack had stopped what they were doing to watch.
Aiden wanted nothing more than to go through them all, to see just where he truly ranked in this pack. But as he assumed his own wolf form, noting in the process that he outweighed the other animal by perhaps twenty pounds, he recalled the decision he’d come to earlier.
If he was going to stand a chance at succeeding in this mission, he couldn’t afford to shake things up too much. The chain of command would have to be respected. Which meant he had to lose the fight. Aiden had never before thrown a challenge. Backing down just wasn’t in his blood. When he’d first come to that realization, he’d had a fit. It hadn’t been pretty at all.
But he’d consoled himself with the fact that he’d also never been a spy before. And that being a spy meant pretending to be something you weren’t. Which meant that if Aiden was always a winner, as a spy he could pretend that he was a loser. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and for a bit there he’d forgotten all about it, his mind thinking of the easiest ways to eliminate the wolves as he worked his way up the ladder.
The slate-gray wolf lunged at him, and Aiden met the challenge head-on, instead of trying to dodge it. Again, his unexpected actions caught his foe off guard. But the other wolf was wilier than he’d given him credit for, and he managed to slip out from between his snapping jaws just in time. There was a flash of pain and Aiden knew he was bleeding from his haunch.
Anger erupted inside him, blowing his control to smithereens. He flew at the other wolf, throwing caution to the wind. He snapped and bit at the gray wolf as they went down. His anger fueled his strength, and it didn’t take long for him to get the other wolf to submit.
TAKE THAT!
The mental jubilation was cut short as pain slammed him to the ground. While he’d been celebrating, the other werewolf had strode up to him and hammered his body with a brutal fist.
Aiden bounced once and slammed into a metal rack. Something gave way in his chest and breathing instantly became a challenge.
His challenger had stripped out of his clothing and came at Aiden, but the pain had broken through his anger, and he immediately flattened himself to the floor, tilting his head to the side as he whimpered in submission, hating himself for it the entire time. The other wolf came to a halt, standing over Aiden. Its jaws closed around his neck and he whimpered again in the ritual to confirm the end of the challenge.
It irked him terribly, and he kept his eyes glued shut so that the others wouldn’t see the anger burning in them at the cheap shot that had taken him out of the fight. It was entirely legal what had happened, but it wasn’t considered “fair.” In a challenge, after the newcomer had forced someone to submit, he was supposed to face off with the next ranked wolf before they engaged. That was the spirit of the rules. Here in Stephen’s pack though, it looked like they adhered to the letter of it, no more.
“Interesting.”
Aiden looked up as Stephen pushed through between two of his men, looking around at the mess.
“You two are pathetic,” he snarled at the pair to whom Aiden had submitted. “You allow Mack’s reject to beat you? What the fuck does that say about you?”
Only the one shifter could reply, and all he did was hang his head in shame.
“Get the fuck out of here, and take your incompetent friend with you. Wake him up and then the two of you clean up this mess.”
The shifter nodded and hauled the unconscious body of his comrade over his shoulder before hustling back into the warehouse.
“Good job, Rokk,” he said, nodding to the shifter that had beaten Aiden.
Rokk? What the fuck kind of name is that?
“He went down pretty easily,” Rokk said in a thunderous baritone. “He should have had more fight in him.”
Aiden forced himself not to tense at the accusation.
“You,” Stephen said with a gesture at him. “Human form.”
Aiden obeyed the command. Cold concrete pressed against his bared skin. He lamented the loss of his clothing. Usually in a pack challenge time was given to remove clothing. With how often fights broke out, things would get expensive if they didn’t take such care. Again, another lesson to be learned about Stephen’s pack.
“Rokk says you submitted like a bitch, instead of fighting till the end.”
Although there was no question attached to the words, it was obvious what he wanted to hear.
“Can’t breathe,” he rasped, both happy and pained that he didn’t have to fake the injury. It gave him a great cover story, but it hurt like hell. “Broke a rib. Or three. Not sure.” The grimace on his face from speaking was entirely genuine too. He’d hit the metal post at the perfect angle to do the most damage.
“On your feet,” Stephen commanded.
Aiden nodded and slowly got to his feet, though he was forced to lean against the rack to ease the pain. Fuck, it hurt. He glared at Rokk, his eyes promising a rematch. The hulking brute just smiled. The answer was clear: Bring it.
“Well, I hadn’t expected such pathetic performances from my men. But, it seems you’ve got a bit of fight in you. We can use you, I suppose.” The already angry look on his face condensed into a fury the likes of which Aiden wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. “But make no mistake, reject. You are here only because Mack is forcing me. I don’t like being used, and I don’t like you. You fuck up, and I will personally tear your head from your body and mail it back to Mack. Got it?”
He forced himself to swallow his natural reply, which would have been an insult ending with a description of his sexual habits toward family members. Instead, Aiden nodded. Once.
Stephen seemed like he was about to fly at him right then and there, but he didn’t.
“Start unloading that truck,” the Alpha said, pointing at a big rig that was just pulling up to their loading dock. “You have thirty minutes.”
Aiden swallowed, wincing at the pain. He wouldn’t even be fully healed in thirty minutes. How was he supposed to unload an entire truck in that time? He didn’t even know what they wanted him to do with it.
Sink or swim, I guess.
He almost laughed. If they thought saddling him with some sort of nigh-impossible task was going to get him to back down, then they were sorely, sorely mistaken. Aiden would unload that truck with time to spare, and he would damn well do it right.
Walking up to the bay, he guided the driver in until the rubber bumpers around the opening started to compress. Almost immediately the engine died and the cab door opened. Aiden more heard this than anything, as he was already bending over to open the trailer doors. A burst of pain washed over him and he fell into the door, using it to support his weight while he regained himself.
“Whoa there, fella. You all right?”
Aiden nodded to the unseen voice.
A large hand reached down and around his bicep, hauling him to his feet.
“Ow,” he gasped, falling back into the door at the unexpected motion, agony pounding his brain.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Ribs,” he wheezed. “Broken.”
“That’ll hurt,” the voice—the driver, he assumed—said in an agreeable tone.
“Just a bit.”
“Don’t recognize you. Must be new here.”
Aiden nodded, finally opening his eyes. At which point he was forced to look up. Way up.
“Holy shit.” The words came out in the same gaspy, pained tone. “You’re a werebear.”
The big jovial driver grinned from ear to ear. On any other person it would have been the look of a simpleton. On him though, it just fit his nature. The big friendly giant.
“Guilty as charged.”
“Didn’t know Stephen had any werebears working for him.”
The look vanished, replaced by one of stern disproval. “I don’t work for Stephen. I am a driver. This is just one of the places I serve.”
Aiden nodded quickly. Few people who knew of his world wanted to tangle with a werewolf. Well, in his world, nobody wanted to mess with a werebear. Period. The man was easily three hundred pounds or more of muscle slathered over a frame that had to be roughly seven feet tall at a minimum.
“Well then, I guess we can get along.” He stuck out his hand. “Aiden.”
“Joe. I take it you just ran the initiation gauntlet with them?”
He nodded. “Yeah. One of them hit me like a hammer. That hurt, but it knocked me into a metal pole.” Aiden shook his head ruefully. “All my strength, and yet metal is still stronger. It’s not fair, I say.”
Joe the werebear laughed, a deep booming sound. “Life ain’t fair kid, but if you’ve got a good sense of humor about yourself, you’ll do all right.”
Aiden smiled. “Well, good thing I don’t, because I’ve got precisely”—he glanced at the clock on the wall behind him—“twenty-four minutes to unload your trailer, or the boss is gonna put me through his personal meat grinder.”
“That’s an oddly specific amount of time.” Joe gently pushed Aiden out of the way and let the cargo door of his trailer swing up into the roof, exposing the interior. “But I think you got lucky today.”
Aiden grinned. The interior of the truck was half-empty, and, unless he missed his guess, everything inside was already on pallets. Stephen hadn’t provided him with a pallet jack, but there was a well-worn red one lying on its side strapped to one wall.
“Mind if I borrow that to unload?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Joe replied. “Help yourself.”
He got to work, unloading the pallets into four even rows of three. With more than five minutes to go he finished unloading, had returned the mover, and strapped it back down and pulled the trailer door closed. His movements were coming easier now as his body healed from the injury.
“Do I have to sign anything?” he asked as Joe returned from the cab.
The werebear smiled at him and produced a clipboard, showing him where to initial, sign and date. “And you’re done.”
“Thanks, Joe. Appreciate it a lot.”
“My pleasure. Stephen always was a bit crotchety for me,” he whispered with a twinkle in his eye.
The two parted, and the truck pulled out of the loading dock. Aiden watched him go for a moment before he went to find Stephen, a tiny smile on his lips. He’d gotten damn lucky, and he knew it.
“Truck’s unloaded,” he told Stephen as the Alpha emerged from an office on the right-hand side of the facility. “Where do the pallets go?”
Stephen’s eyes widened as he looked at the neat rows of goods, anger burning brightly. Aiden watched as he looked at the big white boxes more carefully. Then he snapped his fingers at one of his subordinates.
“Flint, put these away.”
The other shifter took one look at the shrink-wrapped pallets, nodded, and got to work.
“Go help Rokk,” Stephen said, pointing to where the wolf Aiden had submitted to was sorting packages.
Aiden nodded and moved off, keeping all trace of smug satisfaction from his face. He could gloat later. For now, he needed to establish his place, and learn more of what was going on. That meant not stirring up trouble.
It would be tough, but then again, one thing he’d never been opposed to was a challenge. This was a different sort of one than he was used to, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could handle it. But what the hell, he could try.
And maybe in the process learn Ms. Pike’s first name.