The Guardian Alpha: A Paranormal Werewolf Romance (Nameless Sentinels Book 3) (4 page)

CHAPTER SIX

After getting dressed and arranging 'sitters' for Vera and Lily, Jay sprinted to the hospital. He charged his way through the corridors as if he were trying to lose the concerns that followed him. He couldn't shake off the scenarios that kept playing through his head. His stomach had curdled and soured, sticking to his ribs.

Finally, his eyes lit on the long, black braid of Dr. Young. She turned as he approached, her brown eyes warm and sympathetic. “Mr. Ward, I'm glad you made it so quickly.”

“What happened?” Jay swallowed down his nausea, replacing it with frustration and worry.

“She was hit by a car,” Dr. Young averted her gaze to the clipboard. She turned, obviously expecting him to follow her as she strolled down the corridor. Jay's blood turned to ice. A car accident? So a citizen was involved and Hazel was in bad shape. He fell in line behind Dr. Young as she continued, unaware of the inner turmoil she unleashed in his head, “It was low speed. The car had just started forward after stopping at an intersection. She darted out in front of the car.”

Jay fought against his tightened throat and his suddenly too-dry mouth, “Is Hazel hurt?”

“A couple fractured ribs and some scrapes and bruises.” Dr. Young still didn't look up from her clipboard. She flipped papers, eyeballing them intently. “Overall, rather minor.”

“You call all that
minor
?” Jay thought he'd be sick all over the hospital's sanitary floor. When Kristi or Selene found out – hell, when they both found out! – it'd make the negotiations all the worse. He swallowed his wince as his imagination played out potential scenarios.

“Mr. Ward,” Dr. Young turned sharply to him, her gaze turning sharp, “have you seen some victims of vehicular incidents?”

He paused, thinking over the various news articles he'd seen over his life. They all featured gruesome, mangled hunks of metal and people, half-dead and dappled with bandages. “Point taken,” breathed Jay, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Can I see her?”

“That's why we called you.” Dr. Young stopped in front of a doorway. Her gaze slid sidelong to the closed door and Jay knew that's where Hazel was being kept. He strained to hear her beyond the walls. Nothing sounded inside. Concerned began to swell inside Jay, but Dr. Young's crisp voice broke through his worries, “When we brought her in, she was full of piss and vinegar. We sedated her before she could hurt herself or anyone else.” Dr. Young winced apologetically, her gaze hesitantly flicking to Jay's face, “We don't want to pump her full of drugs, so we were hoping you could talk to her.”

Relief flooded into his head. Hazel was all right. She was quiet, because she was anesthetized, not thanks to pain. Jay heaved a heavy sigh, before nodding, “Yes, I will talk to her. Thank you, doctor.”

Dr. Young chuckled, her smile warming her whole demeanor, “Not a problem. For a pup, she's strong and rather tenacious.”

“Well, that's how they raise them in the pack.” Jay chuckled, a crooked grin twitching along his lips. He suddenly realized where he was and his smile dulled to a faint, thin curve.

The doctor averted her gaze as her brow wrinkled. She had something on her mind. Jay hoped it wasn't uncertainties for his fondness of the feral pack. Finally, Dr. Young started to speak, softly and carefully, “In Goldbridge, we restrain our natural instincts. It is refreshing to see one so young and so in tune with their inner wolf.”

Jay cocked an eyebrow and snorted, “Even if that instinct is to bite your face off?”

Dr. Young gave a throaty chuckle and shook her head. She reached for the door, gently shoving it open. “She should be up, if a little groggy.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Jay ducked into the room with a nod of his head. He slowly made his way into the room. The scent of the cave and forest filled every nook of the air: rock, dirt, moss, and pine needles. One scent lingered and it gave him pause: blood. Not a lot, but enough to leave its mark in the air.

As he neared the hospital bed, Hazel shifted. She blearily glared across the distance, but her eyes couldn't seem to focus. She appeared to concentrate as she slurred, “Who's'ere?”

“It's Jay, kid.” He stepped forward, under the moon lamp. The lamp was probably overkill, but the Goldbridge doctors wanted to be safe rather than sorry. He tried to force a grin to his lips as he cocked his head to the side, “Heard you had a run in with a car.”

“Izzat wha'it was?” She grunted, before leaning back into her pillow. The large hospital bed engulfed her small, wiry body.

“Yeah.” Vaguely, Jay wondered how much of the outside world Hazel was familiar with. He always assumed the feral pack did business with farmers or some forest market. He brushed the curiosity aside as he repeated what Doctor Young had relayed, “You have a few fractured ribs and some scrapes, but the doctor says you'll be fine.”

“Doctor?” Concern muzzily dotted across her face. Her hands clenched against the blanket, bunching it up in her fingers, “Human doctor or…”

“Goldbridge has a few humans, but we're mostly lycans here.” Jay didn't want to outright state the town was one hundred percent wolves. He wasn't actually sure. Even further, the hospital's fume always messed with his sense of scent. When he saw Hazel's brow crease further, he hastily added, “But Dr. Young is a lycan.”

Hazel eased at this and nodded her head with a resolute mutter, “Good.”

Jay waited a breath as he regarded the girl. Faintly, he wondered why ferals were so against human medicine and invention. It seemed counterproductive, in the big picture. Shaking the musing from his head, Jay addressed a larger concern, “What are you girls doing here?”

Hazel averted her gaze, her mouth clamping shut. Her hands curled back into the hospital bed blanket, knuckles going white. From the way her lips shifted, Jay could tell she was chewing on the inside of her lip.

“Come on, I worked hard to get the town and the pack to meet.” Jay swallowed his snarl, but couldn't keep the annoyed edge from his voice. He crossed his arms, exasperation taking over his tone, “You coming here and getting hurt – above everything else – could ruin these negotiations, Hazel.”

“We shouldn't have to negotiate,” muttered Hazel as her eyes flew to Jay. Fire licked behind her eyes, her lips twisted into a dark scowl. “And Alpha Kristi deserves better, Jay.”

Jay sighed and sat down on a nearby recliner, the chair creaked under his weight. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as his thoughts tussled about his head. How did you explain to a kid that some things were more important than Mates? Hell,
was
there a way to explain that to kids? In the back of his mind, where his connection to Kristi always murmured, he felt pain and betrayal. The emotions slightly burned at the back of his eyes.

“Hazel,” Jay growled, dropping his hand from his eyes as he pinned the girl under his gaze, “I love Kristi, but this Goldbridge and Crystal Ridge crap has to stop. We can be together when the bloodshed ends.”

“It'll stop when we get our land back!” Hazel swallowed heavily. Somewhere beyond her fire of anger and determination, Jay saw an inkling of uncertainty. Demanding land or blood couldn't be easy for her. Hazel was still just a child.

“The point of a compromise is to give something up,” grunted Jay, narrowing his eyes.

“My ancestors shared their land with them,” Hazel savagely pointed out toward a near window. Through the glass, the night landscape of Goldbridge spread out. “And
they
went against the pact.”

“Well, you guys will need to–” His words trailed off as something clicked into place in his head. Leaning forward, Jay's brows lowered and he growled, “
What
pact?”

“I don't know. All I know is they went against it and ran us off our land.” Hazel huffily crossed her arms over her chest, barely hiding her wince of pain as she shifted.

Jay leered at Hazel as the cogs rotated in his head. There was a pact, on top of the feud. That pact could offer some insight about the problems revolving around Goldbridge and Crystal Ridge. The library would be closed, though, as would the archives at the town hall. Jay groaned and leaned back in the chair, bringing his palms to his eyes. Exhaustion nipped at the ends of his thoughts, clawing at his eyelids. The urge to go home and curl up in his bed struck him hard.

Go home, drink a beer, hit the hay. Sounded like a great idea for his stress-strained, muzzy-headed self. But he had three little feral girls to make arrangements for and keep alive until tomorrow evening. Then, Selene would present a whole different issue.

“Jay?”

He grunted, forcing his head to raise and look at Hazel. He bit back a groan as it felt like a huge weight was chained to the back of his head.

The girl appeared suddenly sheepish. Her gaze flickered between Jay and the end of her bed. Her fingers fiddled with a stray thread on the blanket. “Could you stay here tonight?”

Jay knew that look. It was the look of someone out of their element – someone who was afraid and clinging to something even slightly familiar while trying to remain strong. A warmth filled his chest, but he swallowed down his smile. Jay scratched his cheek and looked away. “I need to check in on Vera and Lily, Hazel.”

“Oh…” She deflated, barely resisting the urge to hang her head.

He slid his gaze back to Hazel, a small wave of guilt coiled in his stomach. She actually thought he'd leave her here after she asked him to stay! “I'm sure they'll want to see you, as soon as possible.”

“Can we have a sleepover!” It was more of an excited statement than a question. Her head snapped up, her gaze wide and bright. Jay resisted the urge to grin. Goldbridgians would find Hazel's innocent eagerness to clash with their idea of feral, ferocious children.

Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't leave Hazel alone in the hospital. He remembered his many nights at the hospital, from when he lived on the streets. Doctors were scarce and nurses had been too busy caring for patients to give a scared, little boy much consideration. Jay shuddered and his stomach curdled as he imagined doing the same to Hazel.

No. Even if he had to put up with three squealing, inquisitive girls, he'd never allow a child to feel abandoned like that. Not as long as he could help it.

“Sure. I'll be back in a bit, all right?” Jay hefted himself out of the chair with a nod and a grin. Hazel flashed a bright smile. He patted Hazel gently on the head and turned toward the door. In his head, he was making a sloppy checklist of necessary things for an impromptu sleepover at a hospital. Jay paused, silhouettes ducked out of the entryway as he approached. His eyebrows ticked upward and his grin twitched. The nurses had been watching.

As he sauntered into the corridor, he threw the nurses amused smiles. They quickly averted their eyes and their faces flushed in embarrassment. They had been caught spying on him and Hazel; they knew it. However, their act of eavesdropping encouraged Jay. Perhaps the Goldbridge citizens were ready for change.

A thought soured his good mood as he stepped into the elevator. Goldbridge may be ready, but was the Crystal Ridge pack?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Libraries. They were full of two things: books and dust. Jay didn't care much for either. Books were of little use when he was growing up. When you didn't know when your next meal would be, you cared very little for Hero McProtagonist's overpriced series.

He sighed and flipped the next page of the ancient chronicle from two hundred years ago. Since Goldbridge dealt with supernatural species, the documents of a more sensitive nature were in the basement. Enchantments wrapped around the books, keeping them from collecting mildew, burning, or being vandalized. However, it did absolutely nothing against dust. His eyes gleaned down the page of calligraphic script, barely able to make sense of the edict thanks to spelling choices and script.

After an hour and a half of rooting around in Goldbridge Public Library's stale archives, Jay was about ready to call it quits. The only thing he had acquired was a snout full of dust, gallons of snot, and fifteen sneezing bouts. There was nothing on Crystal Ridge or the supposed pact. Quite possibly, it was a verbal agreement two hundred years ago. Heck, it could even be a misunderstanding passed down by word of mouth among the ferals.

A word caught Jay's eye: Stone.

His brows furrowed and he narrowed his eyes, his gaze creeping slowly along the sentence:
Mayor Reginald Stone seeks to establish developments on land once held bye natives
. After a few attempts, Jay understood the gist. With a sense of foreboding, he flipped to the next page. The further he delved in the book, the sweatier his palms became.

Equinox Grounds to be demolished for housing.
Faintly, Jay recalled manifest destiny with a sour taste in his mouth. That had been the excuse to take land from natives, once before. He didn't bother to read the article as he flipped to the next page.

Nothing of importance graced his gaze, until he happened on a small rectangular section:
Minutes of Town Meeting
. Beneath the title, there were a multitude of inane statements. They mostly pertained to petty complaints of people at the time: overgrown bushes butting along a neighbor's yard; unfair trades; maintenance to be done. He continued to skim until his gaze caught the word 'natives.'
Natives concerns shelved by Mayor Stone til next meeting.

Jay's lips pursed as he flipped the page. Page after page of headlines depicting gruesome livestock poaching and presumably foul murders followed. He began to see where all of this was going. Goldbridge had a good relationship with the pack, at one time. Then, this Mayor Stone – possibly the current mayor's ancestor – wanted to develop the town. The lands he chose were sacred spaces for the ferals. He ignored their cries, they became violent, and he turned them into villains.

He leered at the book in his hands. His head tried to wrap around this information. Why did Goldbridge care what the native Crystal Ridge pack held dear, though? Hadn't they already sniped the land from under them? He got his answer on the next page:

Mayor Stone Rescinds Agreement Made With The Ferals

In light of the terror, Mayor Reginald Stone has proclaimed the treaty with natives to be nullified. The treaty was signed half a century ago, when Goldbridge was established. Now, it will go to the bin.

“These natives cannot be trusted if they resort to violence above peaceful protest,” stated the Mayor at the last town meeting, where he announced this new turn of events. The natives have since moved farther into the forest. They have cut daily ties with Goldbridge. Mayor Reginald Stone was further reported as saying, “If the ferals want to sever connection to Goldbridge, fine. We will agree to their terms. All mention of natives will be stricken from our records.”

Jay read the passage over and over. Something was wrong with the print. His eyes couldn't focus on anything, save the word 'native.' An inconsistency was screaming at him. All mentions of natives would be stricken from town records? Then how did they –

Jay's thought stopped short and his eyes widened briefly. He flipped back through the book, eyebrows dipping farther downward. Each mention of 'native' appeared slightly different from the original text. The papers had been edited, somehow, to change the words! That's why his eyes couldn't focus. A shudder raced over Jay's skin.

Mayor Reginald Stone wanted to expand Goldbridge. He took sacred land from the Crystal Ridge pack. When the pack retaliated – after being ignored in town meetings – Mayor Stone eradicated the agreement and erased their very pack name from records.

Sickness gripped at Jay's guts. His eyes flickered over the shelves of books. He had to find that agreement. It couldn't have been purged from the very pages of every book. Jay pushed his current tome to the side and clambered out of his seat. Determination marked his strides as he advanced on shelves upon shelves of tampered volumes.