Slow Shift, Nazarea Andrews [english love story books TXT] 📗

a curled lip in response. Fair enough.

“I’m here because I’m Pack.”

“What, my brother decided to adopt some child?”

“Other way ‘round. I think Tyler would have gotten rid of me if he could’ve figured out how,” Chase says, “But really, Chelsea? You weren’t here. You could have been and you weren’t, so if you want our tawdry backstory? Go ask Tyler. It’s mine and I don’t want to share it with you.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re in love with him.”

Chase doesn’t look at his father, doesn’t allow himself that. He stares at her and says evenly, “I love all of my Pack. It’s what Pack means. Maybe you forgot that.”

~*~

Chase realizes, maybe a split second too late, that no one warned Tyler. For that split second, he wants to kill Lucas Reid.

Then he drops the spatula and darts across the tiny space, shoving into Tyler’s arms as the werewolf goes painfully still.

“Wha—I—” Tyler makes a choked noise and Lucas murmurs something, too low for Chase to pick out, but he’s there, close to Tyler, the quiet press of Pack.

“It’s ok, just—normal Pack dinner,” Chase says. It’s brash and confident, and Tyler snorts a laugh, just a little hysterical. Chase grins and rubs a hand over Tyler’s hair. “Good?”

“Good,” Tyler says. Lucas hums his agreement.

Chase steps back, glances over and grins at his dad, rescuing dinner. Then he refocuses on Tyler, watching him carefully as Tyler faces his sister for the first time in years.

“Can I get a hug?” Chelsea says, and for the first time since she walked through his door, her voice is tinged with warmth, trying to tease but not quite hitting it.

“What—why are you here?” he asks, licking his lips.

Her expression does something complicated before she sighs and her eyebrows furrow. “Can’t we just say ‘hi’? Before we unpack the shit.”

“You could have. For years. Anytime, Chelsea, my number hasn’t changed—and you never did,” Tyler says quietly, “So no, we’re not doing that. Why are you here?”

~*~

Tyler and Lucas stand side by side, their shoulders just brushing as Chelsea watches them with narrow, angry eyes.

Chase wants to cheer, he’s so absurdly proud.

The thing is, Chelsea is Tyler’s damage. Lucas loathes her, and Chase—Chase loves Tyler and Lucas. Chelsea hurt them, still hurts them. He would happily skin her alive and use her coat as a fucking rug. But she’s Tyler’s sister, the one he grew up with, the one he still worries about disappointing, the one he desperately wants to come home.

She’s Tyler’s damage, and Chase has always known that when—it was always a when, never an if, because Chelsea is their Alpha, no matter how badly she acts, no matter how much she might wish otherwise—when this day came, his anger wouldn’t matter.

He hates Chelsea Reid, has since before he knew her name, since he saw the gleam of abandoned hurt in Tyler’s eyes, but she never hurt him.

She didn’t abandon him, leave him alpha-less, hurt and alone. She didn’t leave him languishing in pain and slow healing that an Alpha’s bond could have helped. She didn’t choose another Pack over him.

So he stands quietly, unobtrusive, as Tyler and Lucas face her.

~*~

“Gee, Ty. I almost think you don’t want me here,” Chelsea drawls.

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, and she laughs. “You don’t want to be here. You’ve got a whole life out there,” he says bitterly, “So why are you here?”

Her expression flattens. “I got an interesting phone call.” Her gaze flicks to Lucas for a moment. “From the FBI. Between that and the rumors in the Eastern Packs—figured it was time to check in.” Her gaze is flinty. “So, Tyler. You wanna tell me what the fuck you’ve been doing?”

He looks at her, his eyes wide and startled, “The FBI?”

Lucas sighs and John curses.

“Dad, maybe you, uh, shouldn’t be here for this?” Chase chimes in nervously.

He sighs. “Lucas, is it anything in my jurisdiction that I have to worry about?”

The older werewolf sounds offended. “Of course not, Chief. I’d never do anything to cause you paperwork. I know how much you loathe it.”

“Kind of you,” John drawls, “I’m getting a drink and taking a walk out back. Sort this shit out.”

Chelsea watches curiously while John does just that. She turns to the Pack. “You let a human give you orders? A human who isn’t Pack?”

Lucas shrugs. “A happy Chief makes for a happy Chase, and we both appreciate that.”

Chelsea eyes the human boy for a moment, then says doubtfully, “I see.”

“Alright, enough. Everyone sit down. I’m tired of the looming,” Chase snaps. Both Lucas and Tyler move, obeying without thinking. Chelsea watches as they position themselves around Chase on the couch, a united Pack against their Alpha.

It’s...peculiar, the loyalty to this boy.

“Explain,” she says crisply.

Chase smiles lazily. “I don’t think you get to make demands for explanations, Chelsea. You left.”

“Alpha,” she snaps.

His smile grows teeth. “Not mine.”

“Chase,” Tyler sighs.

Chase subsides.

Tyler turns his focus on his brother. “Lucas, what did you do?”

“My job,” Lucas says simply, “What I would have done for mom, if she had lived. I avenged the Pack.”

Tyler stares at him, eyes wide, and Chelsea huffs. “He’s a killer, Tyler. He’s always been a mad dog. This is what they do when they slip their leash.”

Lucas tilts his head and stares at his sister. “The last time someone called me that, I was looking at a Drake witch.”

She pales, white and furious.

He smirks and shrugs. “Still, an apt description. But I don’t slip my leash. Chase knows exactly what I’m doing.”

Tyler jerks, and Chase grips his wrist. She narrows her eyes, studying the tattoo there, the Celtic knot that she knows is on Tyler’s back. Interesting. She files the tidbit away for later.

“When the FBI comes knocking at my door because people are turning up dead, with evidence regarding our family’s car accident pinned to their corpses, there’s a problem. This little revenge fantasy needs to stop,” she says, “I didn’t give you permission—”

“Stop,” Chase says sharply. Power flares around him. Lucas snarls, but