Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 55: Incident at the Mansion

"Police! Supernatural Enforcement Division! Open up!" The shout is clear, even through the closed windows of the SUV.

Silence follows. Then, another shout: "We have a warrant! Open the door or we’ll force entry!"

More silence.

I hold my breath, watching as Logan and the tactical team position themselves around the door. One of them hefts a battering ram, ready to swing.

The ram swings forward, connecting with the door in a resounding crash. Once, twice, three times—and then the door gives way with a splintering crack.

Logan is the first one through, his gun drawn. The others follow close behind, their movements swift and coordinated. And then they’re gone, swallowed up by the darkness of the house.

I strain my ears, desperate for any sound, any clue as to what’s happening inside. But there’s nothing—no shouts, no gunfire. Just an eerie, oppressive silence.

The officer across from me shifts, her hand moving to rest on her own weapon.

A crackle of static makes me jump. The officer’s radio comes to life, spitting out a burst of code I can’t decipher. Her face remains impassive as she listens, but I see her shoulders relax slightly.

"What is it?" I demand. "What’s happening?"

She holds up a hand, silencing me as she listens to more chatter on the radio. Finally, she turns to me. "They’ve secured the premises. No immediate threats detected."

Relief floods through me, so intense it’s almost painful. But it’s short-lived as another thought occurs to me. "What about Mr. Fernsby? Did they find him?"

The officer’s expression doesn’t change. "I don’t have that information, ma’am. I just need you to sit here and wait for Officer Everett, okay?"

I nod, slumping back against the seat. The adrenaline that’s been coursing through me starts to ebb, leaving me feeling drained and shaky.

Outside, more vehicles arrive. An ambulance pulls up, its lights flashing but siren silent. The sight of it sends a fresh wave of anxiety through me.

I watch as paramedics unload a stretcher, wheeling it towards the house with practiced efficiency. My throat tightens, making it hard to breathe.

"Ms. D’Armand?" The officer’s voice pulls me back to the present. "Are you alright?"

"I’m fine. Just hoping no one’s dead," I admit quietly.

"That’s always the hope."

Two SED officers walk out of the large house with the strange woman handcuffed between them. She seems to know where I am, because her head jerks up and she glowers in my direction.

"Do you know her?" The woman beside me asks.

"No. She’s the one who opened the door when we got here, but I’ve never seen her before."

"Hmm. Seems like she knows you."

I nod jerkily; it does seem that way, doesn’t it? But I have no idea why.

* * *

"Nicole?"

Logan’s voice startled me out of whatever fugue state I’m in, and I blink owlishly at his beautiful, if grim, face. "Yeah?"

"Sorry. You’ve been sitting here for hours. Are you okay? I’ll take you home."

"I’m fine. Don’t I have to go to the station for a statement?"

He shakes his head. "I already told them everything, and Nancy already took your statement. Sorry. I should have had her take you home a while ago."

As I step out of the SUV, my muscles scream in protest. Hours of sitting have turned my body into a stiff, uncooperative mess. Logan’s hand steadies me, his touch comforting. I stretch, willing life back into my limbs, the cool air nipping at my skin.

"What happened?"

Logan’s sigh is heavy. "I’ll explain it later."

His evasion sends a chill through me. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable. "Is Mr. Fernsby okay?"

Logan’s eyes meet mine. "I’ll explain everything later," he repeats, his voice soft but firm. "For now, I want you to go home and get some rest."

Someone calls Logan’s name and he tenses, turning to see who it is. When they call him over, he glances back at me in hesitation.

I grab his arm. "You don’t have to take me home if you’re busy. I’m sure someone else can take me." It isn’t like I can order a rideshare on a freaking mountain.

Logan looks torn.

"I’m more than happy to take Nicole home."

Nancy’s voice startles me. I hadn’t noticed her approach. "Thank you, ma’am."

"No problem."

I force a smile at Logan, hoping it helps ease his sense of responsibility. "Nancy can take me. You have work to do." I motion toward the hordes of people they’ve gathered. Thankfully, there are no reporters here. I guess they haven’t heard the news yet.

Logan’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. But then he nods, a short, sharp movement. "I’ll check on you later," he says, his voice low and intense.

Nancy gently touches my elbow, her facial expression never changing, as if she didn’t pay any attention to what’s going on between us.

"Ready to go?" she asks, her voice kind but professional.

I nod, tearing my gaze away from Logan’s back as he responds to the guy calling his name. "Yeah," I manage. "Let’s go."

The SUV’s tires crunch over gravel as we wind our way down the mountain. I glance at Nancy, her profile stoic as she navigates the curves as if they’re nothing. As if there aren’t cliffs on the other side of us.

Maybe she’s like Penelope and drives roads like this for fun.

"Thank you," I blurt out, my voice sounding too loud in the confined space. "For letting me stay in your SUV earlier, I mean."

Nancy’s eyes flick towards me, then back to the road. "It’s my job," she replies, her tone brisk and professional.

Am I being paranoid, or has her attitude towards me cooled significantly? Taking the hint, I fall silent again. Trees and bluffs streak past the window, their shadows growing longer as the sun dips lower in the sky.

As we round another bend, a strange sensation creeps up the back of my neck. It’s like a phantom touch, raising the fine hairs on my skin. I resist the urge to rub at it, instead casting furtive glances out the windows. But, of course, it isn’t like there’s anything to see beyond the scenery.