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Usually it was Kellan and I who dated a woman, sometimes solo, sometimes together, and Jude and Rhett who stayed happy in their own bubble. We lived together, worked together, and I couldn’t see my life without any of them in it.
After we’d formed our pack, we’d gone through the proper registration process, mostly to appease Rhett’s parents who still thought their son deserved an omega. They barely tolerated our pack, let alone Rhett’s relationship with Jude. Us joining the pack registry was a way of pacifying them, and nothing else.
It still bugged the shit out of me that we’d made that concession. But one of Rhett’s dads was a senator from Georgia and on a first-name basis with the Director of the FBI and the President. That kind of power came with the ability to make our professional lives very complicated if he wanted to.
Hazel stirred, the frown on her face becoming more pronounced. Before I could stop myself, I reached up and smoothed the puckered skin with my thumb. She gave a soft little sigh and snuggled her cheek against my chest.
The low light cast shadows across her face, but I was fairly certain I could see the outline of a bruise on her jaw. Wondering what else I hadn’t seen, my gaze continued down her body.
She had a thick patch of white gauze taped to the left side of her neck, and I wondered what that was from. If it was a new or old injury.
Either way? It was my fault.
My fault for not going after her sooner.
My fault for letting Jude stay under.
My fault for?—
“Crew?” Hazel’s raspy whisper cut through my self-loathing.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, immediately worried.
“That’s what I was wondering,” she whispered, the hand tucked under her chin splaying out against my chest. “You…” She trailed off, going so quiet I thought she’d fallen back asleep.
Then I caught the faint whiff of scorched chocolate.
She was upset. Distressed.
“What’s wrong, little one?” I asked, forcing my alpha nature not to bulldoze through her feelings and demand she tell me what was wrong so I could fix it.
Her thin shoulders tensed, and then she was pushing herself up from my chest. I immediately missed her weight against me, her softness pressed to my chest. She turned and looked at me, her green and gold eyes looking weary and exhausted.
“Can I…” She huffed a small breath as her shoulders hunched.
It was like a kick to the balls seeing her withdraw into herself. I’d seen other victims do this over the years. They became so used to trauma and pain that it was in their nature to brace for it.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I carefully reached out my hand, palm up.
Hazel looked at my hand, frowned, then lifted her gaze to mine. The confusion was plain as day.
“Can I hold your hand?” I asked, forcing my tone to be soft and neutral.
Her full lips parted in surprise, then she surprised me by reaching out and laying her trembling hand atop mine. I ached to close my fingers over hers, to pull her against my chest and purr until she forgot the world was an evil place, filled with vile people.
“Am I allowed to ask you questions?” She was so hesitant, so timid, that it made me irrationally furious.
This wasn’t the vibrant, giggling girl from when we were kids. The girl who loved to play practical jokes and was full of life. Her laughter, mixed with Calla’s, was part of the soundtrack of my childhood.
I needed to call Oakley for an update to see if they’d found Donovan Ellis. If they had, I was sure my friends at the bureau would look the other way if I requested a few private moments with the asshole.
“You can always ask me anything,” I assured her, my voice strained around the knot of emotion in my throat.
She seemed to consider my words for several moments before she lifted her chin just a smidge.
Ah. There was a flicker of the fire I remembered.
“Are you okay?”
