CHAPTER 360: AN UNINVITED GUEST

Everything was going so damn well that Andrew couldn’t even fathom that something bad could happen. It was an event hosted by the Beckett’s after all, and he knew that they cared about him deeply.

Maybe it was just an assumption on his part, but he was fairly certain that they had already looked into who his father was, and had cut ties as much as they could with him and his family. Andrew was pretty sure that was what they had done, so after Mr. Dalton had been pulled away by some colleagues who wanted to talk to him, Andrew was with Maxwell, Richard, Rose and Jordan.

He didn’t have his guard up, he didn’t even think that anything could ever happen. He was practically defenseless to it.

The murmuring came first, before loud, aggressive footsteps started approaching them. Andrew thought it was strange that he was able to hear the footsteps as much as he could, and he had his back to the sound approaching them. He was getting prepared to protect Maxwell, since he had assumed it was someone who was about to target his man.

Andrew was chatting to Richard, who also had his back to what was happening, and when Andrew glanced towards Maxwell and Rose, both of them looked ill. Rose, a little less so, but Maxwell?

He looked like he was seeing a ghost, and that had Andrew curious.

Maxwell reached for Andrew desperately, grabbing his arm.

"Get Richard out of here." He told Andrew softly, urgently. Andrew smirked. There was no way he was leaving his lover alone to deal with this asshole. Rose nodded aggressively, grabbing Jordan’s hand and yanking him towards Richard and Andrew.

"Get out of here, Andrew." She barked, but that was when the footsteps came to a halt behind him. Andrew could feel the air in the room shift, and the sound of other footsteps making their way urgently towards where Andrew, Maxwell, and the others were standing. Andrew didn’t know why everyone was glancing at him, worry and anger warring on their expressions until Andrew heard the soft chuckle behind him.

Andrew felt his shoulders tense. Every muscle in his body went into high alert, every joint stiffening, and Andrew felt his gut drop.

He recognised that sound. Even if it had been literal years since he’d last heard it, it haunted him occasionally. The easy way it came out of his lips, how little care it showed he had for the people around him.

Andrew could almost see him in his mind’s eye. What he was wearing, who he was. How the fuck had he gotten in?

Andrew raised his gaze, the shock on his face evident and he searched the crowd. He found Thomas and Luis, two people who were moving towards him rapidly, pure rage in their expressions. When Luis met Andrew’s gaze, saw the hurt there, her expression firmed further. She shook her head.

It was a sharp gesture, as if she was trying to convey that she had nothing to do with this. She had not invited him, and Andrew was unable to meet Thomas’ gaze since he was too busy plotting the other man’s death.

"Rose, take Jordan and Richard away." Andrew said quietly. The silence was thick, heavy. Choking. Rose, who clearly wanted to be here to protect Andrew, protect her brother, fought with herself for a moment before she did the right thing and took the two vulnerable omegas away.

Andrew wasn’t foolish enough to think he could convince Maxwell to leave his side.

"Well, are you going to turn around?" It was him. Andrew couldn’t even pretend that it wasn’t, not from the way that Maxwell was staring at him with pure vitriol in his gaze. There were very few people that Maxwell would give that look, and he didn’t think that Tracey was also here.

Fuck. What a damn nightmare if they were both here.

Andrew didn’t trust himself, but he did manage to slowly turn. His mouth was dry, his throat felt full and stiff, and he stared at the ground at first. He didn’t want to see the face right away. The face that he was sure was a damn mirror image.

His Mom had always said he looked like him. Andrew had refused to find out how much he had grown into his son in the time that they hadn’t seen each other.

The first thing he noticed was the damn cream suit. Andrew almost wanted to laugh at how fucking predictable he still was. Cream? Was he serious? It was so disgusting to know that in the 20 years or so that Andrew hadn’t fully thought of the man that he hadn’t changed at all.

Andrew stared at his polished black shoes, probably some fancy and expensive brand that Andrew didn’t care about, and slowly slid his gaze up the body that he still feared. The cream suit was accented with a dark, blood red pocket square and Andrew was pissed that they were, even by an odd shade, similar in their outfit choices.

When he raised his gaze upward, finally looking at his face, Andrew felt his jaw tighten.

It was his face, only aged, darker in skin tone, and a different shade of hair colour. It was a damn miracle that Andrew had ended up with the hair that he had, and Andrew had been accused of bleaching his hair all of his life. Andrew was proud at the way his Mom’s genes had fought against her abusers genes, but it was clear that they had won one battle to lose another.

He was a damn spitting image of the other man.

Andrew bet that the only reason more people hadn’t realised the family resemblance had to do with the fact that they didn’t want to say all people of colour looked the same, but it was clear that they were related in some way.

The man’s skin was nearly perfect still, a testament to how the man rarely showed his own emotions, hiding who he was away. He was sure that he was also touching up his hair, since that level of black at the age he had to be was unnatural.

He had his hands in his pockets. Casual. Aloof. Like he always was. Like he wasn’t blowing up someone’s life whenever he came around.

Andrew clenched his hands, his jaw tight as he met the amber eyes that were a mimic of his own. Andrew refused to believe that they came from him. It was the one thing Andrew was thankful to Tracey for.

At least because of her interference, he could say that he didn’t manifest because of his father’s genes. She’d woken them up. He was her product of creation.

"What are you doing here?" Andrew’s voice was cold, so cold it surprised even himself. It matched the winter weather, and Andrew could feel how Maxwell shifted at his side. Moving closer. A silent support.

His father didn’t notice it in the slightest. He was too busy scanning Andrew from head to toe. Not like a person. Not like a father who hadn’t seen his son in ages. More like a man trying to appraise another’s worth. A hunter staring at prey.

Andrew wanted to snarl at him, tell him to back the fuck off, to crawl back into whatever hole he had crawled out of, but held himself back. This was the Beckett’s party. He didn’t want to overstep.

The man slid his gaze around the room, finally giving Andrew a second to adjust himself. He thought his fingernails were going to cut into his skin, they were digging so deeply into the palms of his hands. Andrew watched the casual way he was cruel and indifferent to others, his smile never reaching his eyes. When he turned his gaze back to Andrew, he shrugged casually.

"I heard that they had something that belonged to me here, so I came to pick it up." A shudder, a murmur through the crowd. Andrew felt his body stiffen more.

"I do hope you aren’t referring to another human being as something that belongs to you." Andrew shot back. A bead of sweat was rolling down his back. He was getting worked up, and normally this was the time he would pull Maxwell close to sniff, or the small square of fabric that Maxwell made sure smelled like him.

Now was not the time, and Andrew didn’t want to draw attention to Maxwell in the slightest. He didn’t care that Maxwell could take care of himself. This wasn’t about that. This was about the fact that Andrew knew his father could be cruel, and he didn’t want Maxwell to even be possibly hurt by the same kind of cruelty he had experienced as a child.

The man smirked, scanning Andrew one more time.

"You never reached out. I assumed you would. Especially if you manifested." It was so casual, so calm. Andrew wanted to breathe fire.

"Why would I reach out to you when my Mom was from a branch family of another true alpha family?" Andrew asked through clenched teeth. The man laughed.

"Why? Because through our contract, if you ever manifested, you belonged to me." There was another whisper that rippled through the crowd. That was when Andrew realised that something wasn’t quite right. He was scanning the crowd still, a look of confusion in his gaze. It was subtle, not obvious, but Andrew could tell that something wasn’t quite right. "Where is she?" He asked finally, sounding annoyed.

Andrew felt a wave of anger, confusion, and something that burned even hotter, even more dangerous fill him. That was when he felt Maxwell’s hand on him, trying to coax him to calm down. It was the first time he was sure Maxwell had ever felt the need to do so, but wow, Andrew felt mad.

"Where is she?" Andrew hissed, taking a step towards the man. It was good thing he’d finished his drink and passed off his empty glass shortly before this all began. Otherwise he would have thrown the glass at his perfect fucking face. "She’s dead, no thanks to you!" Andrew knew he shouted that, didn’t care who heard, and the man had the audacity to look surprised.

"What? What do you mean?" He asked, clearly confused and Andrew snarled.

"You didn’t visit her for 10 fucking years. She had a medical condition that once she mated she needed the pheromones of her mate. Put the two fucking pieces together." Andrew snarled, his teeth feeling sharp in his mouth, throbbing painfully. He wanted to taste blood. He wanted to pound the man’s face into the ground.

The fact that he was so shocked by this announcement only made Andrew more irate. How long? How long had this motherfucker been mated to his Mom and he hadn’t known a damn thing about her? How long had his Mom suffered at the hands of this man and he had the audacity to bring her up right now? Andrew had every right to kill him.

Andrew was a little surprised by the strength of his emotions, but it was only the small, warm hand of Maxwell that kept him from going to jail.