Page 20 of Feral Alphas

Colt leans forward slightly. “Tell me where it came from, and I’ll put in a recommendation for a sentence reduction.”

Ethan sneers at him. “Like six months will make a difference in a three-year sentence.”

Colt shrugs. “You say that now because you’re sitting in a comfortable air-conditioned room with people who restrain themselves. After two years with the walls closing in and a bunch of alpha thugs who can’t keep their hands to themselves, six months will look like an eternity.”

A shudder runs through Ethan’s small frame. He glances my way but I wave one hand. “Hey, don’t look at me. I told him not to offer any sentence reduction.”

His face falls as I deny him mercy, and he swings back to face Colt. “Six months off then.”

Colt shrugs. “Depends if it’s useful.”

The kid looks like he wants to cry. “I didn’t see who it was. I got a handover at the Black Swan three nights ago from someone wearing a hoodie with a skull on the back.”

“Male, female? Skin tone?”

Ethan lifts his head a notch, then shakes it. “It’s a club, man. Didn’t see anything.”

Colt folds his arms across his chest. “So, someone you didn’t see handed you a vial, which you paid for, and you trusted this stranger to have quality haze without knowing who they were?” He quirks brow. “How have you stayed in business this long? That level of incompetence will chase away the buyers.”

Ethan bristles. “Everyone in there’s endorsed.”

Colt pauses to wave one hand in the air. “Sure. I guess that means you aren’t incompetent. But, hey, I hear you. I’ve been to the Black Swan, and that’s one rocking club. Can’t even tell if you’re breathing with all the base thumping.”

“Right.” Ethan nods in agreement.

“So where were you in the club when this woman handed you the vial? The stairs? The top floor tables?”

Ethan bristles. “Yeah, the tables up top.”

Colt’s got him so worked up, he doesn’t even know what’s coming out of his own mouth. Usually the ginger-haired agent is reluctant to speak, except with his partner Felina, but it’s interesting to see him unload during interrogation.

Colt pulls out the small glass capsule of haze. “How many of these did you get?”

Ethan’s chin juts out. “Ten. But I didn’t see who she was.”

“Sure, I believe you. But why did you feel the need to pick up a new supplier?”

His face breaks open in a sneer. “Because you pigs keep pulling them off the streets.”

Colt smiles. “Alright, you’ve been helpful. We’ll be back if we have any more questions.”

I follow him out of the room, feeling like I’m missing something. Surely we need to try getting more out of the dealer? Felina and my partner Russell come out of the viewing room.

“What’s next, boss?” Felina asks.

“Get on social media and collect all the photos coming out of the Black Swan Saturday night.” He swings around to me and my pulse kicks up a notch. “Liam, you’re good with the finance stuff. Get theelectronic transaction records and trace each one that’s more than the standard entry.”

I frown. “Hang on. What exactly are we looking for? He slipped up and admitted the dealer was a woman, but we don’t know anything else.”

Colt shakes his head, a tiny smile tugging the corner of his lips. He holds one hand out in front of him at the dealer’s head-height, then raises another few inches. “Woman in a skull hoodie, five-foot-nine or taller, who paid extra to get in and probably has a double hand stamp to prove it. You don’t deal haze in a club like the Swan without paying a surcharge—he said they were all endorsed.”

Shit, he’s right, clever bastard. And these clubs don’t usually take cash on weekends because they can’t bank it. “And her height?”

He scrubs his knuckles through his buzz cut hair. “He looked up when he was recalling the scene.”

Surely he’s reaching. I hum under my breath, trying to recall exactly what happened in the interrogation room. “He could have been seated.”

Colt shakes his head. “He never said he was sitting or drinking, and you wouldn’t want to lose your mind when you’re on the job with that kind of cash or haze in your pocket.”

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