Myrick turns to me, silently asking if he heard right, and I nod.
Rhett doesn’t look up as he stands. “But I’m warning both of you.” He pauses in the doorway, his big body tense with raw emotion. “If he hurts Charlie…” His voice drops into something colder than rage. “I’ll finish what I started.”
The Gym
Rhett
The gym smells like bleach,sweat, and blood. My blood? Oli’s? It’s hard to say.
The lights hum overhead, casting sharp angles across the cold floor. I step inside, slow and heavy, like my body’s waiting for permission to keep moving. Every part of me aches—but not as much as what’s underneath.
Oli’s slumped against the leg press machine, tangled in a mess of cables like a marionette abandoned mid-pose. One arm is caught above his head, twisted awkwardly in the harness. There’s a gash on his temple where I cracked him—swollen, dried blood crusting down the side of his face. His chest shines with sweat. His lips are cracked.
He looks up when he hears me. “Water,” he croaks, voice like broken glass. “Please.”
He’s been in here two days. No food. No water. Still conscious. Still watching me. He’s young. Strong. He’ll bounce back. That’s the thing about alphas—we don’t stay down long. We come back harder.
I walk past him without a word and head to the water cooler. I pull a paper cup from the stack. The water dribbles out, filling it halfway before sputtering out.
Then I return to the young alpha. He straightens as best he can when he sees the cup.
I crouch in front of him, knees cracking from the strain. I take a sip.
It’s cold and clean. A mercy he doesn’t get.
Oli stares at me, confusion flickering across his bruised face. “Are you gonna kill me?”
I let the silence stretch. Savor his fear. His anger. Then I shake my head. “No.”
His eyes narrow, uncertain. “Then why keep me here?”
I swirl the last inch of water in the cup. “Because I hate you,” I say, voice quiet but steady. “And I wanted you to know that.” I down the rest. Crumple the cup. Toss it aside.
Oli watches it skid across the floor, then turns back to me with wide, panicked eyes. “Please, don’t hurt Charlie,” he pleads, licking his lips. “None of this was his fault. He didn’t?—”
“You think I’d hurt him?” My voice spikes. “I’mnot the one who made him fuckingbleed, asshole!”
Oli’s eyes flare. Then he growls, “I know about you. What you did to Myrick.”
I freeze. “What the fuck do you think I did to Myrick?”
“Brock told me.” He swallows, dry and loud. “You put him in the hospital. He said?—”
“Brock thinks IhurtMyrick?” My anger turns into gut-wrenching pain, horrified that my brother would think that of me. “Youthink I’d hurt him?”
“Yes,” Oli snaps. “Brock said you lost your mind. That you attacked your old packmate, too.”
Fresh rage cuts through me, and I yell, “A year ago, mybrother was a drugged-out piece of shit who refused to even speak to me during my lowest moments!” My voice rips through my throat. “He has no idea what happened! I called him. Texted. Begged him to call me back. I needed his help after finding my packmate beating the ever-loving fuck out of Myrick!”
Oli goes quiet, his anger fading.
“Jason had Myrick pinned on the kitchen floor, pounding him over and over again!” My voice cracks, the memory clawing at me. “I tackled the bastard. Slammed his skull into the fucking floor until he finally stopped moving. Then I held Myrick until the ambulance came.” My gaze drifts. I see it all again. “His hair was soaked in blood. His eyes swollen shut. He could barely breathe, and there was nothing I could fucking do.”
Tears sting, but I swallow them. He doesn’t get to see that. Hell, I shouldn’t have said as much as I did. But I’m tired and weak. Because ofhim.
“Rhett,” Oli says softly. Almost regretful. “I didn’t know.”
“Why the fuck would you?” I bite out.
