From Byron’s datebook: Ozo nuh ic wdf yrt.
Byron shoved his datebook in his Arachnos bag. For the past two weeks or so, it had been full of embarrassing love poems, parts from Shakespeare’s sonnets, and attempts at finding his romantic side. He didn’t put anything about his change, or about the pack, but it was more personal. It was in one of the many Arachnos codes that he had been taught from day one, so that anyone reading it would think they’re reading a magical tome. It was simple cryptography.
This was the first time he wrote about something going on. He looked at the words again, shaking his head, not comprehending. How can a man – or even a wolf – blow himself up? And what did Gabriel mean about “unity”? Bask was obviously a good friend, and had been gone a long time. Byron had seen the two couples and was missing his mate. It wasn’t his mate’s fault – the poor man was so busy, dealing with Rome and his own holdings, and now that his Beta was here on vacation, the work had doubled. Byron stayed as long as he was able, and then snuck his way out planning to go home.
Then Malcolm showed, and Byron didn’t need a bond to tell him something was wrong. He seemed stiff, not as relaxed, as if he didn’t want to be there. Byron took him out for a drink and then for dinner. They talked about things, and Byron asked his usual pointed questions of what was wrong. Malcolm told him. In detail.
However, and he should have known this himself, Black Friday was a public place, and he shouldn’t have asked his friend so many personal questions. The pack arrived at the restaurant, with the Alpha already in a mood. Gabriel accused Malcolm of airing dirty laundry in a public place, and Byron jumped in saying he should take the blame because he asked all the questions. “You’re a pup, you don’t know any better,” was the answer, and Malcolm was publically chastised.
Something was bothering the alpha. He left the group, leaving them to finish the meal. Byron thought it was his fault, and decided to take the blame for it. The group sullenly went back to the den.
Miguel was left alone, sending angry thoughts down the bond, and Byron went in to get him back before he did something rash. He didn’t ask why, he just went and rescued him.
He returned, and was talking to Malcolm when suddenly Mal got up and left – and then Gabriel came running through, naked and burning.
Alpha blew up last night. Literally.
He physically blew up and somehow got Gabriel full of shrapnel, and threw Bask “around like a rag doll”. Nobody knows how, just that it happened.
Byron sighed and got into his workout uniform, glancing back at the bed his mate had left a couple of hours earlier. He was already on conference calls, and Byron didn’t want to disturb him. He would run around the place, look in the daytime for any remnants of his alpha.
But as he well knew, this was the Isles. People always got better.