The Mad Alpha's Chapter 60: Disaster Yet Again

Chapter 60: Disaster Yet Again

(CORRINE)

Usually, Finn tries to be very well behaved. But there are tis when he simply gets too excited. Like they do to any child, fairs and carnivals get him all worked up because he wants to do everything at once.

"No fighting with anyone. No shifting. If you think one of the ga stalls is cheating you, don’t attack them. Just walk away," I instruct the two adult n in front of . "Don’t let him eat much sugar. And he’s too young to go on the big rides. If the person in charge says Finn cannot do it, you do not argue that he is a prince and can do whatever he wants."

Locke gives

a disapproving look. "He is a prince, and—"

"If you can’t follow my rules, all three of you can go ho."

"What about you?" My mate studies . "Where are you going?"

"I’ll be with you for a while. Then I have to et soone."

The carnival is on the outskirts of the city. Bright, colorful, flashing lights, striped tents, and covered stalls are sprinkled throughout the field on this dark night. There are plenty of people milling about, most of them families or couples. Shifters are sensitive to consistent loud sounds, but since Derrick and Locke have been on the battlefield for so long, they don’t really register them. And Finn was born here, so his ears have adapted. But even shifters who live in the Human Kingdom avoid places like these, which is why a carnival is the best place for my eting.

I pay for everyone’s tickets, and as we head in, I have a firm grip on Finn’s hand. My son looks around in awe, and just as I anticipated, as soon as he sees the first stand, serving spicy chocolate apples, he starts tugging

toward it.

"Can we go there first?" he asks, quivering in excitent.

"Are you sure you want to eat before you go on the rides?" I look down at him. "You know you will throw up afterward."

"I won’t eat that much!" He looks up at

with his big eyes. "I promise."

I sigh. "Very well. Let’s get you a spicy apple."

I don’t know why Finn likes them so much. When we get to the stall, I order one each for Derrick and Locke, as well.

But as I’m about to pay, Locke takes out sothing that looks suspiciously like a wallet. "I can pay for it."

I stare at him. "Where did you get that from?"

He shrugs. "I have money in this world. I just don’t use it. Never saw the need."

I watch him carefully count the bills before paying the man, and I smile softly.

Derrick isn’t fond of the spicy chocolate apple, but Locke, for so reason, shares his son’s peculiar taste. He wants to go back for a second one, but I refuse. There’s a lot to eat here, and if Locke gets a second apple, Finn will want one as well.

My son is pulling Locke along by the hand, and he is following him without a complaint. I purposefully guide us toward the darker areas and check my watch. My eyes search the designated etup spot, and then I see him. A tall man wearing a trench coat.

I make sure that Finn is distracted before I touch Locke’s arm. "I’ll just be a minute."

He nods, and I slip away. I make my way to a fried potato vendor where they are selling everything from French fries to tornado swirls. After getting so fries, I stand next to a small, round table near the stall. The man in the trench coat approaches , holding his own paper plate filled with fries.

He stops next to

and sighs. "Marcy has

on a diet. If she sees

eating these, she’ll kill ."

"A diet?" I study the gray-haired man. "What for?"

"My heart. Apparently she dread that I died of a heart attack. God forbid. But I should be so lucky. If I eat one more baked kale chip, I’ll shoot myself in the chest."

I chuckle. "She’s just worried about you."

"Look at ." The man gestures with his arms. To humor him, I do so.

Tall with a trim figure that doesn’t give away his age, George Haml is in his late fifties and deputy commissioner of the local police. Normally, our paths would never have crossed, but the fates have their own plans, and I ended up eting George when I saved his life from a rabid rogue shifter.

Rogue shifters are rare among our kind, and no one knows how they beco rabid. George had been in the woods with his sons when the shifter attacked him. I happened to be nearby with Finn. I had been teaching my son how to shift forms when I heard the sound of children screaming.

I ended up killing the shifter, not an easy task but one that beca necessary when it turned its attention toward my own son. However, the injuries that I sustained in the process had

shifting back to my human form. I rember how George bandaged

up and helped

back to the city. His children were too young to understand what they had seen, but their father did.

George found my address in my wallet and made sure I got ho and into Maya’s care before he left. I intended to tell Erik about my run-in with the man, but I didn’t know who he was. The next ti I bumped into him was when I was trying to search for police files on a certain case.

Since then, for all these years, George has kept my secret, and he has helped

with a lot of my investigations. In return, I’ve helped him with a few of his. It’s an odd friendship, but one that is mutually beneficial.

"You look completely healthy," I announce after my visual inspection of the man. "How are the boys?"

"Nate has started high school." George looks proud. "Ben is in his last year of middle school. I don’t know how they grew up so fast. How’s Finn? Did you bring him with you?"

He looks around, and I smile. "He’s with his father."

George appears surprised. "I didn’t know his father was in the picture."

"He wasn’t. This is a recent developnt."

The older man clears his throat. "And you? Are the two of you..."

My smile widens. "We’re working things out. I’m considering moving to be near him."

George frowns in disapproval. "Why do you have to move? He should be the one to co to you. Finn’s life should not be disrupted."

I chuckle. "Unfortunately, his job is not conducive to relocation. And I think Finn will be happy."

"Have you asked him?"

I give him a blank look. "Asked whom?"

"Finn."

"Asked him what?"

"Whether he wants to move." George raises his eyebrows at . "I know he’s a child, but you should involve him in your decision. Otherwise, there could be room for resentnt."

Thoughtful now, I study him. "I didn’t consider that. From everything he has said, I think he would really want to go there. But I probably should discuss it with him."

George nods. "Children are very perceptive and sensitive to enormous changes like this. If you involve them in the decision-making, or at least let them think they have a say, they accept the change more easily. At least, that’s what I’ve learned." He fumbles in his coat pocket and then says, "Here," as he hands

a flash drive. "I couldn’t get the physical files, but since the departnts have started digitizing everything, I have images of everything you need."

I stare at the flash drive, my blood starting to pound between my ears. "If this is what I think it is, George, I’m going to need to see the evidence."

He gives

a brief smile. "Don’t worry. That can be arranged."

I pocket the flash drive. "How long have you been looking into this?"

He thinks for a few seconds before answering. "We have had a file open on an active serial killer for about three years now. The sa red circle with cell phones and wallets. Missing persons, no imdiate family to contact. If I had known this was linked to your work, I’d have given the evidence to you much earlier. My detectives are coming up empty-handed."

"Wait, no imdiate family?" I go still.

He shakes his head. "Parents deceased, no siblings, no partners, just a handful of friends. No one in their life who would notice them missing. It’s a pattern."

"How many open cases do you have?" I ask numbly. "Around fifty, give or take."

My blood goes cold. "You said serial killer," I murmur after a mont. "Does that an you found bodies?"

George munches on his fries, unaware of my inner turmoil. "We found two. Restraint marks on their wrists and ankles. Massive bruising, signs of torture, needle marks in places you wouldn’t think to look. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to conduct autopsies because both bodies disappeared from the morgue. It was evident that they hadn’t died in the custody of the killer. They had escaped sohow. We found both bodies within hours of each other. It seed like they had escaped at the sa ti and had gone in different directions. From the pattern of fresh bruising on their bodies, we could tell that when they were running, they were not very coordinated or balanced."

My appetite is gone. I stare at the table. "If they had escaped, they should’ve shifted. Why didn’t they?"

"Do you think they were unable to?" George had one rule when we began working together. He wanted to know as little about my world as possible. This is the first ti he has asked

a question like this.

"I’ve never heard of such a case," I say slowly. "This changes everything." I glance up at him. "If I need to see their clothing or whatever else you have in evidence—"

"Just give

a call."

I give him a grateful look, and we chat about our families for a little while before he decides to head off. As he starts to leave, he motions over my head with his chin. "I assu that’s your son’s father. He’s been glaring at

for the past twenty minutes."

I look over my shoulder and see Locke standing by a stall, watching us, his arms crossed over his chest in his signature stance.

I sigh. "Sorry about that."

"If he’s bothering you, you can always tell

about it." George pats my shoulder. "Let

know if you find anything useful in those files."

"Thanks, George."

I watch him leave before walking over to where my mate is standing. Chewing on my remaining fries, I co to stand in front of him, asking, "Having a good ti, are we?"

"Who is that?" Locke demands.

"A friend. Where is my son, Locke?"

"He’s fine. He’s on that ride over there." Locke points to the large Ferris wheel. "Derrick is sitting with him."

"You shouldn’t have left Finn with Derrick. I left Finn with you." I give him an annoyed look. "The human world isn’t as safe as you think."

"Derrick has fought by my side for years. Not only do I trust him, but he’s also a good fighter. Nobody would dare take our son while Derrick is watching. So, who was that man? How can he be your friend when he’s a man?"

I’m already walking over to where the Ferris wheel is. "Am I not allowed to have friends who are n?" He opens his mouth, and my eyes narrow. "Don’t answer that if you know what’s good for you, Locke."

After a mont, my mate protests, "He’s a man!" "And I am a mated female," I point out.

"But you’re not carrying my mark," Locke says harshly.

Taken aback by his tone, I co to a halt and study him. "Does that make a difference?"

He looks uneasy. "According to the law, you are my mate. But you don’t wear my mark. That ans we are not proper mates. And that ans you are free to find sobody else. I don’t want that to be a possibility."

"If I wanted to find another mate, Locke"—I wrap my hand around his—"I would’ve done so a long ti ago. Stop being paranoid."

We’ve only just reached the Ferris wheel when I hear screams in the distance. My head whips around, looking for the source.

The screaming is coming from behind the stalls near the exit, exactly where George had been headed. I don’t know why, but a bad feeling starts to churn in my stomach. Grabbing Locke’s arm, I hiss, "You get Finn. I have to go see what’s happening."

"Not without ," he says sternly.

I release him and snap, "Get our son."

Leaving Locke there, I run toward the gathering crowd by the carnival exit. The stench of blood reaches my nose as I get closer. I recognize the scent. My heart in my throat, I push through the people standing there and staring.

Please no.

A horrified gasp leaves my mouth and I nearly sink to my knees when I see the still figure on the ground.

George, who had been laughing and talking with

about his wife and sons not five minutes ago, is slumped against a tree behind one of the stalls, next to a dumpster, his throat slit, and his eyes vacant.