Lingering on Knox’s skin. On his chest. His hair. In the air between us.
My tie suddenly feels too tight.
Knox moves past me, grabbing the container of instant coffee. His movements are steady, like he’s already been awake for hours.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks as he spoons in the granules.
I force my lips into a casual smile, praying I don’t look flustered. “Good.” The word tastes like a lie, but I manage to make it sound normal. At least, I think I do. My heart’s pounding so loud I can’t be sure.
I clear my throat, nod at him. “You?”
“Couple hours,” he says, pouring water into his mug. There’s no pride in it, no alpha bravado. An honest fact.
The microwave dings, mercifully breaking the quiet. I grab my cup, the heat bleeding through the ceramic into my palm, grounding me. Knox steps in, sliding his mug inside then punching the buttons.
That’s when I see the tension pulling at his jaw and the faint tightness around his mouth. Knox is a natural morning person. He always wakes up with a smile, ready to tackle the day.
“Hey,” I say. “Is everything okay?”
But Knox hesitates, and that pause makes something cold coil in my gut.
“Did something happen? Is Skyla?—”
“She’s fine.” He cuts me off, then exhales through his nose. “But she has a wound on the side of her throat.” He gestures vaguely to the side of his neck. “It looks…bad.”
My stomach plummets.
“And she’scoveredin old mating bites. At least half a dozen,” Knox goes on, voice tight now. “Most of them are healed, but there’s one…” He shakes his head, eyes dark. “It looks like her old pack tried to rip her damn throat out.”
Rage surges hot through me, so sudden my hands tremble.I want to storm down the hall, scoop her up, and demand she tell me who the fuck did this to her. My chest heaves, and I have to lock my knees to keep from moving.
Knox immediately notices the change. “Easy, alpha.” His hand slides around the back of my neck, holding me firmly. “Skyla’s with us now. She’s safe.” His thumb presses in enough to keep me steady. My breath shudders, but his touch helps, anchoring me in place.
“I’m good,” I say, but we both know that’s a lie.
“I think there’s an omega clinic in town,” Knox’s tone is gentler now. “She needs a full physical to make sure it’s not infected.”
My phone chimes in my pocket, vibrating against my thigh. I don’t need to look. I know it’s work. I only took three days off, but you’d think I’d vanished off the face of the earth the way everyone’s panicking.
“Will you tell me if you get an appointment?” I say, ignoring my phone. “I’d like to go. If I can.”
“I will,” he says simply. Then, softer, “Have a good day at work, Tadeo. Don’t worry about Skyla. She’s going to be okay.”
But before I can say anything else, Knox leans in and presses his mouth to mine. The kiss is soft and warm, pulling some of the worry from my chest.
By the timeI push through the glass doors of the West Main Omega Clinic, it’s exactly three o’clock. I’ve been watching the clock since Knox sent me the appointment time this morning.
The waiting room is bigger than I expected—rows of cushioned chairs, a few scattered tables with outdatedmagazines, and the faint antiseptic tang hanging under the hum of fluorescent lights.
I scan the room, then quickly find my pack.
Alex’s thumbs frantically tap at his phone, no doubt playing a game, while Dakota holds Skyla’s hand.
Our omega sits small in one of the plush chairs, hands folded tight on her lap, still wearing Dakota’s clothes. The black material swallows her up, falling off one shoulder. Skyla pulls it back up, before fidgeting with the hem.
“Hey,mi amor,” I whisper as I move across the room.
Skyla looks up, giving me a shy little smile—barely a flicker—and then her eyes dart back to her knees like it burns too much to hold mine. My chest aches.
