APEX

Ch. 15: Gut Punch

Rhys

I had to be careful not to bite my tongue too hard. The last thing I needed was to draw blood. Or vomit, which was the other disgusting thing someone with a weaker resolve than me would be doing by now. I hadn't intended it to be, but the dinner I'd set up between myself, Calla, and my journalist friend had gone from annoying to nauseating before the appetizers hit the table.

Calla sat opposite Tobias Wolt, my college friend and an award-winning journalist, sloshing wine around in her glass in between bursts of laughter. She leaned her cheek against her non-drinking hand and stared at Jacob with slowly blinking, dark lashed eyes. I seethed underneath my casual demeanor. If I didn't bite my tongue or throw up, I might punch a hole in the table instead.

"I can't believe Rhys didn't introduce me to you the day I began working for Apex." Her voice was lower than usual, carrying with it a sensuous vibe that made it hard for me to concentrate on anything else.

I can believe it." He gave her a flirtatious smile that made his attraction to her obvious. "Rhys doesn't like to share."

"Oh, it's not like that," she said. That was true, of course, but the conviction with which she spoke made my inner wolf anxious. "We can barely stand to be in the same room with each other. Thankfully, it's a temporary situation."

"Is it?" He motioned to his digital recorder. "Can I put that in my article?"

She slow-blinked several more times. "It's not a secret."

"How long is temporary?"

She leaned in. "You'd have to ask my mother."

"Can you get me an interview with her?"

"Not a chance."

He shrugged. "I had to try."

"Let me ask you a question." Her tone shifted to boss mode, but she kept her elbows propped on the table, her face startlingly close to his own. "Is it a challenge to stay fair and balanced given your pack's status?"

"Ouch," I said, the nausea subsiding. Maybe he wasn't as charming to her as I'd thought. "Calla goes right for the jugular. I should have warned you."

"No worries." He gave her a wink. "From one jugular targeting shifter to another. I can take it."

"I didn't mean it as an insult," she said. "As you know, Crown has its own issues."

"I'd love to get your take on that." Tobias checked the mic on his digital recorder, which had been turned on as soon as we'd both given our consent. "On or off the record."

"Maybe." She downed the last of her wine and poured herself another glass. "Answer my question first."

"The answer is no. It's not hard to remain objective, despite the status of Dusk."

Dusk, like Crown, had experienced its days of glory long ago. An illness decimated their population in the nineteen thirties, and they never recovered in rank or power. Still, they maintained a small territory that included a historical werewolf burial ground, which they were responsible for maintaining. Nestled into the southwest corner of the city, and surrounded on three sides by Apex land, the Dusk pack was aligned with their larger neighbor, whose support could easily be pulled should Tobias, one of Dusk's most prominent members, decide to run an unfavorable report on them.

"I've always told Toby that he should feel free to write the truth," I said, making sure to articulate each word, hoping for a direct quote in his article. "My pack would never seek vengeance if we don't like what gets printed."

"What if that truth involved...I don't know." Calla rocked her head back and forth like she was trying to decide on something that she had, in fact, already decided upon. "What if he writes about someone close to you. Someone you care deeply for. And that truth he's so free to write about is not exactly favorable to them. Are you saying Dusk is safe? Tobias won't have to watch his back when he takes the metro through Apex to get home each night?"