It didn't surprise me when I returned home to find Nixon still asleep. After his late return home, he was probably more tired than usual. So instead of waking him up, I turned to exit the room, but the sound of stirring caused me to stop.

"Are you awake?" I asked the heavy-eyed man.

"No," Nixon deadpanned before pulling the blanket back over him. "Get out."

There was a moment of silence that almost made me think he'd gone back to sleep before a groan escaped from underneath the blanket, and he sat up.

I stared at Nixon amusedly as he climbed out of bed and walked toward me. Just before passing me, he stopped, and his eyes narrowed.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," I defended.

"Your eyes did."

A smile fell on my face, and I left the room with Nixon following behind me. We walked down the stairs and to the kitchen, where the strong aroma could be smelled. Nixon's eyes lit up when he saw the takeout containers and cups before furrowing together, and he turned to me.

"You went to the pack?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, earlier while you were still asleep, I said, and he fell quiet. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just didn't expect you to go," was all he said.

The expression on his face reminded me of the words Aria had said earlier. His face was twisted with an expression I couldn't quite make out, which was weird in itself for Nixon — he was like an open book.

I gave Nixon his food, and as we ate, we conversed quietly. It wasn't our usual banter, but I couldn't focus. No matter how much I tried to forget about it, my mind kept going back to Aria. Caspian and Mila had told me to ignore her words. She and Isaiah had been close, and when he died, she couldn't accept the reasoning behind his death. She thought it was a lie. However, her eyes didn't look like the ones of someone who couldn't accept the truth. They were filled with rage when she heard Nixon and Nolan's names so much to the point where it was hard to believe that there wasn't more to the story.

"Isaiah Wells was not a good person. At first, it seemed like he was, but later it was revealed that he was conspiring to attack the pack and take over. That is why Nixon killed him. There is evidence as well."

That was what Nolan had told me around the time I had first met Nixon and him. Isaiah had betrayed their pack, which was why he died; however, the words sounded robotic. Traitor or not, it's hard to speak so calmly about the death of one's mate. Yet, the way he spoke was steadfast and calm. His words didn't waver as he spoke, and he held eye contact. It was hard to believe that it was his mate who had died that day.

"What's wrong with you?" Nixon asked me as he munched away on a piece of bacon.

"Nothing," I shook my head.

"Liar," Nixon accused with a raised eyebrow. "Your face is all scrunched together. It's quite unsettling if you wanted to know."

I rolled my eyes at the insult and met his gaze. "Thank you, Nix. That's exactly what I wanted to hear after getting up early to get you food. Really, truly."

Nixon snorted. "You're welcome," he shot me a grin. "But seriously, what's with the constipated expression?"

"I want to ask you something," I told him.

Nixon nodded. "Go ahead."

"Why'd you do it?" The question escaped me. "Why'd you kill Isaiah?"

Nixon's whole body tensed. The calm demeanor he had before had disappeared in a matter of seconds, and he stared back at me ambiguous manner.

"He was a traitor," was the automated response, similar to Nolan's. "I did what was required to protect my pack."

The answer didn't match his face. The way he spoke sounded as if it was forced and staged. Like he had rehearsed what to say multiple times, but it still hurt him to say — like he was forcing it.

From what I knew of the case, Isaiah's death occurred when the twins were eighteen. The bond between Nolan and Isaiah would've been fresh, and Nixon and Nolan would've been preparing to take over in the coming year or so. I wanted to know what flipped the switch—why what was supposed to be a happy time ended in such a tragedy.

"But what led to—"

"Will you stop? I don't want to talk about it," Nixon said.

"Nix—"

"I said no!" He growled out, eyes glaring holes into me.

The way he spoke—the way his body shook—told me he had reached his breaking point. As much as I wanted to keep asking, I knew forcing him wouldn't get me anywhere.

"Okay," I said calmly before standing up. "I'll give you some space to calm down."

Nixon said nothing as I stood up from the table and headed toward the front door. He didn't stop me as I opened it as left the house. I closed the door and walked away with my hands in my pockets and a mind full of thoughts.

His outburst wasn't entirely surprising, seeing as I knew Nixon, but his body language only confirmed what I already thought: there was more to the story, and I doubted I'd get the answers I wanted from Nixon. The fireball of an alpha would likely shut down if I tried to address the situation again, and I didn't want to risk it.

Maybe I should drop it. The issue had nothing to do with me directly, but a nagging feeling in my mind wouldn't let me. After having gotten to know who he was, I couldn't make sense of it.

"It's you again," a voice full of disgust said.

I turned my head to the side where Aria sat. Her dark hair was tied back into a ponytail, and she stared at me with a judgmental expression.

"Hello to you, too," I greeted sarcastically.

"I wasn't aware that friends of murderers gave out greetings."

"So because I'm friends with Nixon, you're going to use that as a reason to hate me as well?" I asked her.

Aria's glared at me. "You know what he did, yet you're still friends with him. In my eyes, that makes you just as bad as him."

I didn't reply back immediately as I stared at her. There was so much pain in her eyes, which appeared to be long overlooked or ignored.

"Actually, I don't know," I told her. "I know what Nixon and Nolan have told me, but there are multiple sides to every story. Tell me yours."

I wanted to know more about who Isaiah was, and the best way to do that was through his sister.

Aria clearly hadn't expected my response. She stared at me with an expression that appeared to be a mixture of confusion and distrust.

"What you were told is a lie," she finally said, her voice quieter. "Isaiah was...Isaiah was the sun. He was the center of the universe and warmed everyone up. He was friends with everyone. He wouldn't have— he wasn't a—" her voice broke, and she closed her eyes. "Isaiah was a good person. He wouldn't have betrayed his pack. His only mistake was getting involved in what he shouldn't have."

"What do you mean?" I asked her.

Aria's eyes refueled with anger, and her hands clenched into fists. "I told him not to. I told him no good could come out of it, given his reputation. I told him that he was trouble."

"Who are you talking about?" I asked hesitantly, but I feared I already knew the answer.

"Nixon," she growled out the name. "I told him Nixon Hart was trouble, and he brushed off my warnings. Why? Because...because..." she took a deep breath. "Because they were mates."

What?

Isaiah Wells was Nolan's, deceased mate. That was what was said— by the pack; in the official records, the twins themselves had said it. So what did she mean? I'd heard of twins sharing mates, was this one of those cases? If so, why was Isaiah only officially listed as Nolan's?

Aria didn't give me a chance to ask her these questions before she got up and quickly ran off. I could see the tears in her eyes as she did so, and I was left with my own jumbled mess of thoughts.

If she was telling the truth, then there was definitely much more being hidden from the public. Much more about Nixon that I didn't know — knowledge that could change the way I saw him if it was bad.

But I couldn't believe that Nixon would kill someone in cold blood. Especially not after spending time with him, and if this person was his mate, then it didn't make sense. Sure, I knew Nixon didn't like the mate bond, but I didn't believe he could ever go as far as to kill his own.

I continued to walk, but my mind was elsewhere. Many thoughts swirled around in my mind as I tried to make sense of them all. It was like a puzzle where I had some of the pieces but not enough to fill it in and see the whole picture.

Aria didn't sound like she was lying, but I didn't want to believe what she had told me. If Isaiah indeed was as good of a person as she made him out to be, then why? Why did Nixon kill him?

"Nolan, somebody could—"

"So let them. I love you; I don't care who knows that."

The voices pulled me from my thoughts and caused my feet to come to a stop. The figures were slightly covered, but if not because of the name, I knew from the voices that it was Roan and Nolan. From my spot, I could make out Nolan's face — specifically his eyes. I couldn't see Roan, but I didn't need to. In a similar manner to Nixon, Nolan's eyes gave away everything he was thinking, and from what I could see, the expression on his face was one full of love. The way he stared at Roan clearly told me that he loved the man.

Almost...

My eyes widened as I studied him.

...Almost like how one would love their mate.