POV: SAINT
Waking up in Jackson's arms, feeling tired from the previous night's adventures, was something I hoped to experience for the rest of my life. After our fifth round together, we communicated through our mindlink. Though we were inches apart, we didn't even need to use our voices.
I wanted these moments to stretch on forever. I dreamed of waking up next to him without worries or problems clouding our minds. With that desire in my heart, I created a list of tasks aimed at resolving this ongoing drama and uncovering who was behind everything that had been happening.
Taking a deep breath, I focused ahead. I stood at the entrance of a narrow path that led to Samantha and her mate Joshua's house. From where I stood, I could see everything clearly. The house was neither too big nor too small; it was just average, surrounded by a tidy area and a well-defined path. Before I could take a step forward, I quickly ducked behind some shade when I noticed Samantha stepping out of the house. She walked down the pathway but then stopped, chuckled softly to herself, muttered something, and continued on her way. Since she was all dressed up, I figured she wouldn't be returning anytime soon.
It was the perfect opportunity to talk to her mate.
I approached the door and waited just a few seconds before knocking. When there was no reply, I knocked again, this time more forcefully. I heard a click from inside, followed by a squeak as the door opened slightly, revealing a man I guessed to be Joshua.
He was shorter than me and had a beard that covered much of his face. His fingernails looked worn and neglected, suggesting he hadn't taken care of them in quite some time. His clothes were ragged, with colors so faded that it was hard to tell what they used to be. His lips were chapped and had cuts around the edges.
When I had asked about him, I learned that he rarely goes out except for special occasions. He has no friends or family nearby. Since he doesn't have any pups, his only living family member is his mate, Samantha.
I found myself wondering why he lived this way. Surely it couldn't just be because he dislikes people, right?
"....hello?" His voice pulled me back to reality. He stood in the doorway with it barely open, looking at me with confusion, probably because I'd been silent for too long.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm Saint, alpha Jackson's mate. It's nice to meet you." I introduced myself and reached out my hand.
He glanced at my hand before lazily shifting his gaze back to mine. "Does the alpha want to see me?" he asked.
"No, not at all. I'm here on my own," I answered while trying to peek past him into the house. I noticed him frown at that.
"If the alpha didn't ask for me, then that's it," he said as he tried to close the door, but I stopped him by placing my foot between the door and the wall.
"I wanted to talk to you. I promise it won't take long," I replied, hoping he'd say yes. He stared at me for what felt like an eternity before he opened the door just enough for me to slip inside. I managed to squeeze through.
The inside looked normal, just like a home should be—clean, tidy, and with basic furniture arranged neatly. Nothing seemed out of place.
"Why don't you get straight to the questions instead of wasting my time?" I heard his sharp voice from behind me. I turned around and said, "Huh?"
"You're here to ask about Samantha, right?"
I thought about easing into the topic before asking what I really wanted to know, but he beat me to it. "Oh, how did you know?"
He clicked his tongue. "You wouldn't be interested in quiet old me, would you? She mentioned someone was coming. Anyway, I don't know anything about her related to what's been happening in the pack."
Samantha said someone was coming? Who could she mean? Does she mean me? How did she know I was suspicious of her? This only makes it clearer that she might be involved in this mess. I observed Joshua; he still looked at me with a lazy and uninterested expression. He was different from how others described him. If I wanted to get something important out of him, I'd need to change my approach in this conversation.
"But that's not my actual question," I said. His face quickly shifted from a bored look to surprise, then curiosity, before returning to indifference. He certainly had a lot of expressions.
"Honestly, I don't have answers to any of your questions," he replied, still wearing that same expression.
"Tom is scared of you," I pointed out.
"W-What?" He faltered, his bored expression expression cracking.
"Tom mentioned how you act towards him when he visits. I wanted to find out if he did something to upset you and that's why you don't seem to like him," I explained.
His jaw tightened as he glared at me while crossing his arms. "I never said I didn't like him."
"But your expression suggests otherwise."
"That's because she—" he suddenly stopped.
She?
His eyes widened for a moment before he plopped down on the sofa. The way he sat caught my attention; his legs were pinned together, his feet tightly closed, and both hands nervously rubbed against each other. He avoided making eye contact with me and started chewing on the edges of his lips, drawing blood as he licked them.
"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned. He was acting like I had revealed something I shouldn't have.
"T-that's not true! I don't hate T-Tom," he stammered, but his voice sounded uncertain, almost as if he was trying to convince himself.
"Do you really hate Tom?"
"I said I don't!" he yelled, flinging items off the table. I was shocked. Why was he reacting so strongly to a simple question? I expected a straightforward yes or no answer. What was going on?
I stepped back and asked, "What's happening? Why are you acting like this?"
"Leave!" His voice echoed through the walls, deepening my confusion.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"I don't know anything about Samantha or Sam, so just go! Get out!" He shouted again, his breathing heavy now. "Please, just go away," he said in a shaky voice while covering his face. Tears streamed down as he added, "She said I don't know anything; please leave."
I quickly turned and walked out of his house. On my way home, I replayed everything that had happened—the words spoken, the actions taken, the reactions shown. And if I was correct, Joshua was dealing with emotional abuse, and Tom's name seemed to set him off.
Tom's name was a trigger.