The Mate That Wasn't Mine novel Chapter 65

Chapter 65

Chapter 65

MAXIM POV

With the ghostly pale Remy shoved outside to get his head together it was time for me to step up.

Returning alone I noticed Warden Marshall had already dispatched the guy Remy went too far over to Block H for some bandages and recovery. It’s a grim process. It’s also strange nobody is resisting when their name comes up. As if refusing implies guilt.

Marshall continues. “What’s happening?”

“Remy is taking time out.”

“You tell him to do that?” Marshall asks quietly, moving about the small cell space, refilling the kettle and sparking up the gas burner.

“I suggested it.”

“You’re good at that.”

I pause, confused at whether I’m receiving a compliment or an insult. Instead of flaring up, giving him shit back I just glance at the already–memorised

list of who is next.

“You’re meant to acknowledge a compliment Pagano,” Warden Marshall adds gruffly, the kettle already beginning to rattle annoyingly with the heat.

“Just a bit unusual to get one from you that’s all, Warden,” matching his bristly tone.

He turns around, blue eyes blazing with annoyance. His blonde hair is no longer weirdly fuzzy, just a short crop of blonde close to his head.

“You didn’t deserve them before.”

I stifle a “Fuck off,” but he sees my jaw tick. Now I remember why I grew the beard. Him reading every micro–expression with ease. Only for him to continue. “Remy doesn’t trust Wardens anymore. Which is understandable. So there is no point in me trying to advise him. But it looks like you two have an understanding. He needs that.”

“Can’t blame him for not trusting your guys,” I snipe.

Marshal nods his head wryly. “No. But a man alone with too much responsibility, too much pressure, it can lead to bad choices.”

I wonder if he’s digging at me. Losing Kai and Silas alongside Tess. Or Alpha Hale. Shrugging away from the love of his mate. Making us perform this barbaric interrogation upon his own pack members. Fuck knows what else the Alpha has planned.

“Well Remy isn’t alone. He’s going to be absolutely fine. Better than fine. He’s a natural leader, with a good heart. Ravenbow is blessed to have him.”

Fuck. When did I get so defensive about a man I work for?

“You would do whatever he says?”

I grit my teeth. We talk like friends but the fact remains that Remy owns my ass. I am in servitude. Which I am happy to do. But it’s not an equal

friendship.

“Yes.”

Warden Marshall cocks an eyebrow. “Would you do what I say?”

“I’d prefer to do the opposite.”

A terrifying moment unravels. Warden Marshall laughs. A deep, throaty chuckle echoes around the cell as he shakes his head. “Fucks sake Pagano. One day you’ll learn,” but he is smiling to himself, setting a turned–over wooden chair back upright.

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Chapter 65

Goddess I am confused.

“Allette Gregoire next,” he murmurs. “She’s a friend of yours isn’t she? Happy to proceed?”

“Yes, but mainly because I think she’s clean.”

“We’ll see,” the lightness vanishing from Marshall’s voice as her determined, steady footsteps sound.

Allette, as ever, stands tall. Unimpressed. I wonder if anyone thought to check her for blades on the way in. She wouldn’t ever let herself be caught on the back foot.

No bright silk scarf, instead her long black hair is styled upwards with an ornate claw clip made of copper and steel, glinting curiously. With its red stone walls, she is a rare splash of brightness.

She refuses the chair, folding her arms across her gold and beige training gear. “So, is this the part where you start hacking bits off me?”

“Not necessarily,” I start. “Are you armed by the way?”

When I don’t move she sighs and reaches behind her back, revealing a long, curved silver–edged blade. Marshall steps forward, “I’ll take that.”

But this is my interrogation. “So. Warden Donlon. What dealings did you have with him?”

“He disliked me. We did not talk privately.”

This is a first. Nobody has complained Donlon didn’t like them before. Buttering them up or nothing of note. Never dislike though.

“What makes you think that?”

Allette’s eyes narrow, like she’s trying to stop herself from rolling them. Even though a Warden is a metre away, holding a kettle full of scalding water.

“Facts. He wanted me to fall down the bladework group rank-”

Marshall interrupts. “But I checked. You have remained number one throughout.”

Allette’s gray eyes flash with frustration, hugging her waist a little tighter as she tries to keep her emotions in check. “Only because I am that fucking good.”

Silence is often the way to unlock people’s desire to vent.

“I’m telling the truth! I began to notice some of the men looking at him each time I won. Even when my targets were wonky, not set right. Or when I swapped my blades for ones that had not been dulled or had a mis–weighted balance to the handle.”

“Paranoia-”

“One time, Donlon even told me I had stepped too close! At least five guys were staring at him, then smirking at me. So I took three steps back and hit the target from there too. Then another three and did it again. Fuckers.”

Well, shit. I’ve seen her accuracy against Briggs. He’s on sick leave. Like anyone can recover from tendons severed by silver.

It’s mainly because I don’t like the idea of him being out on the same side of the fence as Tess. And I am looking forward to his interrogation.

This afternoon is not going to show the best side of me I fear.

Marshall seems to agree, before suddenly handing the kettle to me and squaring up to Alletto, his watery blue eyes blazing into hers. She inhales sharply, her hard exterior not completely bulletproof.

“You will have heard what happens to those who lie. Being a woman is no exception. Last chance. Did you have any dealings with Donlon?”

“No,” she answers with emphasis. “I’m not as green as some of the other first years. I’ve travelled my whole life. Lived with Fae and humans and seen all

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Chapter 65

the tricks. He had no use for me.”

I can see her point. She was too cynical, too talented to need her confidence puffing by an aging Warden. Shame I wasn’t so smart.

“What’s that in your hair?” Marshall nods. “How do you have such a possession? It’s similar to Luna Sabrina’s collections.”

“Irene made it for me. But I didn’t find it until after she was killed.”

“-Died.” Marshall corrected. Killed suggests the Alpha did something wrong. The air crackles as he remains uncomfortably close to her still glaring face

“Well, that day. Tess and I found gifts for me, her, Silas, Kai and Briggs. And you too,” leaning to the left to stare straight at me, with her slate gray gaze, her plump lips pouting angrily.

When she wasn’t trying to flirt her way into my pants, this cold, steely woman is a unique force. She’d cut my balls off without hesitation. I think Marshall likes her immensely.

“You can leave.”

Allette is the only person in almost five weeks to leave this room without injury. And it’s right. I believed her.

“I put in my report she needed promoting quickly by the way.”

“Guess who told Alpha Hale not to bother?” Marshall replies. “What did Irene make you then?”

“Not a clue,” wondering why Tess never mentioned it. Before I can twist myself in knots thinking about it the sound of a heavier, clumping set of feet approaches. Briggs.

But not the cuddly brown bear that all the women seemed to warm to. He’s still got the thick build, jet black curls and the hazel eyes, but his face has

twisted into something sour.

“Oh well this is going to be a fair trial,” he mocks, landing in the wooden chair with a heaviness that revealed his pain–streaked limb.

“It’s not a trial. Just some questions.”

“Fuck off Maxim. You have been dying for this.”

He’s not entirely wrong.

“Think Allette got the jump on me,” I snap back. “But this isn’t my show…Warden?” nodding at Marshall before turning to put the kettle back onto the burner. This bastard is going to be getting hurt.

Because unlike Allette there has been something about him the whole time. I don’t know what, but today it’s coming out.

Warden Marshall takes his time, letting Briggs fester and the kettle whistle annoyingly. On sick leave he is out of his first–year training gear. Gone is the white and beige, he’s walking around in what he first arrived in. A dark charcoal jersey material and black work pants.

“Where are you from Briggs, originally?”

“Mining. Coal mainly in my district.”

“You want to go back there?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then tell me about Donlon.”