Chapter 5
Michael POV
My motorcycle sputtered and coughed like it was on its last breath as I rolled up to the edge of the forest. It was a miracle the thing still ran, honestly. I'd bought it off a certain witch who claimed it was enchanted to "never break down," but I was pretty sure she'd just cursed it to make my life harder. That was understandable because I had haggled it down below market price. Either way, it got me home. Or what used to be home.
I was just about to kick the stand down when I heard a rustling in the bushes. Out stumbled my uncle, Greg, looking like he'd just lost a fight with a bear. Which, given that he was a bear shifter, wasn't entirely out of the question. He was half-naked, his shirt hanging off one shoulder, and his pants were covered in leaves and mud.
"Michael!" he exclaimed, his face lighting up like I was the best thing to ever appear before him in years. "You're back!"
I sighed. Of course, I'd run into Greg. Every time I came home, it was like the universe conspired to make sure our paths crossed. And every time, it got…kinda awkward.
"Hey, Greg," I said, trying to sound polite but not too enthusiastic. "What are you doing out here?"
Greg grinned, oblivious to the fact that he looked like he'd been rolling around in the dirt fighting mother nature . "Finding my innerself ," he said, gesturing vaguely to the forest behind him. "Or my inner bear, you know how it is."
I didn't, but I wasn't about to argue.
"So, you're back!" Greg said again, like he hadn't already said it. "You staying long? We should hang out. Watch some TV. There's this new werewolf drama series—really good stuff. Lots of howling and brooding. You'd love it."
I shook my head. "I'm not staying, Greg. I'm just here to pick up the last of my stuff."
Greg's face fell, and for a moment, he looked like a kicked puppy…or more accurately, an old one. "Oh. Right. Well, you know, the offer's always open. Anytime you want to come back, just... you know, come back. You know my place…Just a few houses into the forest, past the winding stream, then just a little bit over that red hill, the one with swampy…."
"I know where your house is." I nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt. Greg had always been the weird uncle, but he wasn't a bad guy. Just... lonely. His wife had left him for a richer shifter a few years ago, and he'd never really recovered.
"Okay, just drop by anytime. "
"Thanks, Greg," I said, trying to sound sincere. "I'll keep that in mind."
I clutched the gear and prepared to leave.
"What?" Greg snappily asked
"What?" I frowned
"Oh sorry, I thought you said something" he smiled
"I didn't. I'm gonna leave now, okay?"
" Okay kiddo, go ahead." Greg smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You know, one day you're going to have to put all this family drama behind you. Life's too short to hold grudges."
I didn't respond. What could I say? That I wasn't holding a grudge? That I just didn't want to be around people who thought murdering rebels was a good career move? Yeah, that would go over well.
Instead, I glanced down and said, "Your, uh, your penis is hanging out."
Greg looked down, startled, and quickly adjusted his pants. "Oh. Right. Thanks."
"No problem," I said, kicking the stand down on my motorcycle. "Take care, Greg."
I left him standing there, half-naked and slightly embarrassed, and headed toward the mansion. It was a big place, not as flashy as the ones in the Capitol, but still impressive. The kind of house that screamed, "We're important, but not *that* important."
I rang the bell at the gate and waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, a guard appeared, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before finally opening the gate.
"Thanks," I said, rolling my motorcycle through.
The guard didn't respond.
I parked the bike near the front door and walked inside, bracing myself for whatever fresh hell awaited me. The house was quiet, but I could hear voices coming from the living room.
I rounded the corner and froze.
There, sitting on the sofa like he owned the place, was Luca Wilder. The leader of the shifters. The man I'd only ever seen on TV. He was dressed in a sleek suit, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. Behind him were two vampires, their red pupils glowing faintly in the dim light. They looked bored but dangerous, like they were just waiting for an excuse to cause trouble.
Opposite Luca was my dad, Shane Glider. He looked tense, his jaw clenched and his hands gripping the arms of his chair like he was trying not to punch someone. Behind him stood my mom, Sarah, and my two older brothers, Jack and Stephen. They were all bear shifters, big and bulky.
"So," Luca was saying, his voice calm but with an edge to it, "let me get this straight. You're the one in charge of the attack on the rebels?"
My dad nodded, his expression grim. "Yes."
"And your name is... Shane Glider?"
Another nod.
Luca leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "You don't strike me as an asshole, Shane."
My dad blinked, clearly thrown off by the comment. "Uh... thanks?"
"Are you an asshole, Shane?"
"No."
"Do I look like an asshole to you?"
"No."
Luca smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. "Funny. Because one of us has to be the asshole in this transaction. If neither of us were assholes, you would've informed me that a few rebels escaped your little onslaught. And I wouldn't have had to find out from Julian himself."
The room went silent, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
And then, he spotted me.
"Michael," my dad said, his voice tight. "What are you doing here?"
I shrugged casually. "Just picking up the last of my stuff. Don't mind me. You can proceed with whatever this is"