Chapter 4: The Morning After the Window
The air in the records room was stale with the ghosts of forgotten paperwork. Jared sneezed, the sound absorbed by towering shelves of cardboard boxes. Dust motes danced in the sickly green glow of the overhead fluorescents. His punishment. ‘Administrative assistance’ was what Kyle had called it this morning, his amber eyes avoiding Jared’s, his voice all professional detachment. ‘Focus on routine, Cadet. Structure.’
Structure. Right.
Jared’s tail twitched in irritation, stirring up more dust. He opened another box labeled ‘2009 – Trafficking: Closed.’ The files inside were a mess, some water-damaged, others chewed at the corners. The academy’s idea of digitalization seemed to stop around 1995.
He worked mechanically, the lack of sleep a gritty feeling behind his eyes. Every touch of paper, every scent of mildew, was a barrier between him and the humming, maddening connection he now carried. He could feel them. Kyle, a steady, simmering presence somewhere in the building. Rylan, a brighter, more chaotic signal, currently distant but prickling at the edge of his awareness. It was like having two live wires soldered into his brain.
He reached for a heavier box shoved deep on a bottom shelf. Its label was faded, the tape brittle. ‘2004 – Homicide: Unsolved.’
His breath hitched. His parents were killed in late 2004.
His hands, suddenly clumsy, tore the old tape. The cardboard flaps fell open. The smell that wafted out wasn’t just dust. It was something sharper, earthier. Vermin. Nesting.
He pulled out the first file. The cover sheet was partly shredded, gnawed into a lacework of pulp and faded ink. He could make out the case number. His heart stopped. Then it slammed against his ribs, a frantic, painful rhythm. He knew that number. He’d memorized it from the single, unsatisfying letter the precinct had sent his grandfather.
His parents’ names were there. ‘Elias and Mara Cottontail.’ Half of ‘Cottontail’ was gone, eaten away.
A low, wounded sound escaped him. He fell to his knees, his fingers trembling as he lifted the ravaged folder. Inside, the pages were a disaster. Incident reports had holes where crucial paragraphs should be. Evidence lists were reduced to cryptic fragments. ‘– fur sample, origin un–’ ‘–witness statement rec–’ Whole pages were glued together by some ancient, sticky spill. Photos were missing, the empty paper clips leaving rust stains on what remained.
Someone had tried to destroy this. Not just neglect it. Destroy it.
“What’s that?”
Jared jolted, slamming the file against his chest as if caught with a secret. Rylan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. He was in his instructor’s gear, but it looked unnatural on him, like he was straining against the seams. His golden eyes were bloodshot.
“Nothing,” Jared breathed, clutching the papers tighter.
“Bullshit.” Rylan pushed off the frame and walked in, his movements too controlled. The room felt smaller, hotter. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And you smell… terrified.”
“It’s the dust.”
“It’s not the dust.” Rylan stopped a few feet away, not crowding him, but his presence was a wall. “Is it about last night? Because I’m not apologizing.”
“This has nothing to do with you.” The lie was flimsy. Everything had to do with them now.
“Everything has to do with me,” Rylan said, echoing his thought, his voice a low growl. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Can’t have a fucking thought without you in it.” He ran a hand through his wild hair, frustrated. “Kyle’s walking a trench in his office floor. We’re a mess because of you.”
The words should have hurt. Instead, they sparked a raw, angry heat in Jared’s gut. He lifted the gnawed file. “You want to know what a real mess is? This. This is what’s been keeping me up at night. Long before I ever smelled either of you.”
Rylan’s eyes dropped to the file. His bored expression faded, replaced by a hunter’s focus. “What is it?”
“My parents.” Jared’s voice cracked. “Their murder case. Or what’s left of it.”
He watched Rylan’s face. Saw the mockery dissolve, replaced by something calculating, then darkly understanding. The alpha took a slow step closer, then another, until he could see the shredded pages. His nostrils flared. “Rats.”
“A lot of rats,” Jared whispered. “Convenient, don’t you think?”
Before Rylan could answer, another voice cut through the stagnant air. “It wasn’t rats.”
Kyle stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted, a deep weariness in the set of his shoulders, but his gaze was sharp, locked on the file in Jared’s hands. He entered, closing the door softly behind him. The click of the latch was final.
The room was now impossibly small. Jared on his knees, Rylan standing over him, Kyle blocking the exit. The bond between them vibrated, a triad of tense, conflicting energy.
“What do you mean?” Jared asked.
Kyle’s jaw worked. He looked from his brother to Jared, a silent war playing out behind his eyes. Duty versus something deeper, more primal. The truth won. “I mean the evidence was compromised before it was ever boxed. The initial report was altered. The chain of custody was a joke.” He nodded at the file. “That wasn’t neglect. It was a cover-up. A sloppy, panicked one.”
Jared felt the world tilt. “How… how do you know that?”
For a long moment, Kyle just looked at him. The professional mask was gone, stripped away to reveal the raw, relentless intensity beneath. “Because I pulled the original case notes from the precinct archive three years ago. Before they could be ‘lost’. I’ve been looking into it. Quietly.”
Silence, thick and heavy. The hum of the broken printer filled the space.
Rylan let out a short, hard laugh. “You son of a bitch. All this time? You never said a word.”
“It was an open investigation. My investigation.” Kyle’s eyes never left Jared. “And then he showed up. Here. And it wasn’t just a case anymore.”
The pieces crashed together in Jared’s mind. Kyle’s initial coldness, his intense scrutiny. It wasn’t just about an omega in the academy. It was about him. This whole time. “You knew who I was.”
“The second you walked into the orientation hall,” Kyle admitted, his voice gravel. “I knew your face. I’d been staring at your family photo for years.”
Jared stood up, legs shaky. The fragile, bitter hope he’d carried for a decade was now a live thing, snarling and desperate. “What did you find? Tell me.”
“Not enough.” Kyle’s admission was pained. “Enough to know it was wrong. Enough to know someone with access made it go away. But the trail’s ice cold. Witnesses moved or retired. Evidence vanished.”
Rylan spoke, his tone uncharacteristically flat. “So someone on the force did it.”
“Or protected whoever did,” Kyle said.
They all stood there, the truth hanging between them. Jared looked from one alpha to the other. The responsible brother who’d secretly carried his grief for years. The wild brother who’d just barged into the heart of it. Both bound to him by a force they couldn’t control.
Rylan broke the silence, jerking his chin at Jared. “So the bond’s a complication. A fucking huge one.” He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Or it’s an advantage.”
Kyle’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“Think about it.” Rylan’s gaze was fixed on Jared, speculative, intense. “We can feel him. His moods, his fear. From a distance. That’s a two-way street, isn’t it, bunny? You’re a rabbit. You sense things. Emotions. Shifts. Lies.” He took a step forward, his energy shifting from antagonistic to fiercely focused. “That keen little nose of yours isn’t just for flowers. You caught the scent on that file immediately. You feel wrongness. Now you’ve got two bloodhounds tied to your leash. We can find what you find.”
Jared’s breath caught. The idea was terrifying. It would tie his tragedy to this new, overwhelming connection. It would make them a target.
Kyle was already shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. He’s a cadet. We are not using a fated mate bond as an investigative tool.”
“He’s already in danger!” Rylan shot back, gesturing to the mutilated file. “Someone didn’t just kill his parents. They buried it. He starts digging now, on his own, with this bond lighting him up like a beacon for any alpha with half a sense? He’s dead. Or worse.” He turned to Jared, his expression stark. “You’re ours. That means we’re in this. All of it. Whether big brother likes the rules or not.”
The word ‘ours’ shouldn’t have sent a bolt of heat through Jared. It did.
Kyle looked at Jared, the conflict raging in his eyes. The detective knew Rylan’s crude logic was sound. The alpha, the bonded mate, saw only the threat. Jared saw the resolve hardening in Kyle’s face, the reluctant acceptance.
“We proceed with extreme caution,” Kyle said finally, each word measured. “No one knows. Not about the bond, and not that we’re reopening this. We work from the edges. Jared, you focus on your training. You stay visible, you stay clean. We do the digging.” He glanced at Rylan, a silent command passing between them. “Together.”
An uneasy, unprecedented alliance formed in the dusty gloom. The rivalry was still there, a hot wire of tension, but it was now channeled, bridged by the mangled file in Jared’s hands and the male standing protectively between them.
Jared looked down at the names of his parents, half-eaten but finally seen. The bond hummed, a strange, potent tool thrumming with the promise of danger and the faint, desperate scent of truth. For the first time, he wasn’t alone.
He nodded. “Where do we start?”
Kyle reached out, his hand hovering for a second before he carefully took the file from Jared’s grasp. His fingers didn’t brush Jared’s, but the current jumped anyway. “We start,” he said, tucking the ruined evidence under his arm, “by seeing what else the rats missed.”