“How does it work?” I ask as I turn the wheel, drifting into a massive neighborhood.
The houses here all have tall gates and manicured lawns that look like they cost more than our house. Every driveway is lined with fancy cars gleaming in the afternoon light, and even the air feels different—like money.
Alex keeps talking as I make another turn, scanning the street numbers. “I think it releases some kind of slow-burn pheromone mist, or something? I don’t know. Dakota tried explaining it, but he lost me around the part about ‘hormonal scent equilibrium.’”
I grunt in response, taking the next corner. Each house looks the same—too clean and perfect—and I can’t tell if we’ve passed it already or if they all blur together.
Alex leans forward, pointing toward a tall black gate with gold numbers. “There. That’s it.”
The gate’s wide open.Of course it is.
It makes something low and irritated flicker in my chest. Only smug, rich bastards would spend that kind of money on security to leave it wide open.
The house looms ahead, big and bright and soulless. Sliding in next to a sleek red car, I throw the van in park, the engine rumbling down.
But before I open my door, Alex blurts, “Why haven’t you marked Skyla yet?”
It blindsides me. I blink at him, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “Why haven’t you fucked her yet?” The words come out sharper than I mean them to.
The air in the cab goes still. Alex freezes, halfway through unbuckling his seatbelt, jaw clenched, eyes dark. “What the fuck does that mean?” he snaps.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you haven’t touched her,” I bite back, clinging to the change in subject like it’s a rope. Anything to keep him from asking me about marking her again.
Alex recovers fast, leaning back with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You haven’t been home, Knox. You don’t know what we get up to while you’re gone.”
“Cut the shit.” My tone drops low and serious. “You can’t lie to me, and you know it. What’s going on?”
Alex swallows hard, throat bobbing like he’s trying to push the words back down. His jaw flexes, and for a second, I think he’s going to shut down completely.
I shouldn’t have snapped at him over something so serious.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s that you were the same way with Dakota.” I reach over and rest a hand on his leg, solid and steady. It’s not much, but it’s enough to let him know I’m not here to judge. Just to listen. “Talk to me, Alex. Tell me what’s holding you back.”
Alex exhales hard, eyes fixed on the dashboard. “I don’t know, man. I’ve spent my whole damn life as a fuckup,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “My family cut me off after prison. I haven’t spoken to them in years. I’ve also never held a job longer than a couple years, never kept anything good without finding some way to burn it down.”
It’s strange, hearing him like this—no jokes, no swagger. Raw fear under everything else. The same fear I’ve seen in his eyes a hundred times, hiding behind that damn grin.
“The only good thing in my life is you guys. My pack.” He shakes his head, a tight movement, like he’s mad at himself for even saying it out loud. “And now we have Skyla.” His dark blue eyes finally meet mine. “An actual, beautiful, precious omega. And I keep thinking…what if I fuck this up too?” His voice goes soft at the end, breaking around the words. “What if I slip into Skyla’s perfect little body, lose my mind and mark her before you get the chance?”
I squeeze his leg once, firm. “You can’t seriously think you’d do that,” I say.
Alex gives me a pointed glare. “You’ve been telling me for years that I’ve got serious impulse control issues.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice lifting, trying to nudge the mood lighter. “When it comes to booze, showing off, and running your damn mouth.Notwhen it comes to thepeople you love.”
A ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth, but it fades quickly. “Yeah, maybe. I…” He scrubs the back of his neck. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You won’t,” I tell him. “I know for a fact you’dneverhurt her. Plus, she loves you, man.”
Alex looks at me, skeptical, like he doesn’t believe a word of it.
“I’m serious,” I add, leaning toward him. “I see it in the way she looks at you, the way she gravitates to you. Hell, she even laughs at your jokes—and you’re not that funny.”
That gets a quick belly laugh out of him, and more of the tension breaks.
I reach over and grip the back of Alex’s neck, squeezing until he meets my eyes. “Stop thinking about it so damn much,” I tell him. “Showher how much you adore her.”
Alex’s mouth twitches like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. He nods quietly, the weight in his shoulders easing a little.
