Truer words had never been spoken. I only hoped our pack didn’t have any other traitors like Sylas lurking in the shadows.
As I drove to Liza’s house later that evening, I made the rash decision to cook for her. She was always cooking for others, and I wanted to do something nice for her. Hopefully, it would alleviate some of her stress. It also wouldn’t hurt to butter her up before I brought up the topic of us claiming each other.
Liza was the one for me. I’d recognized our connection in my bones the first time we’d locked eyes at the country club. I envisioned her standing by my side through all of our pack’s joys and sorrows.
As I scoured the grocery aisles for the ingredients I needed, my mind was hyper focused on the idea of Liza possibly not wanting me as much as I wanted her. I tried to push the negativethoughts out of my mind. After all, I was the next alpha, for God’s sake.
The whir of the large fans overhead filled the aisles with a low drone, the beeps and booms of the refrigerated cases mixed with murmured voices and the clank of metal carts shuttling from one aisle to another.
Life continued on in our small town, despite the invisible threat that hung over us. I watched a family load their cart, one of the children fussing over the breakfast cereal the mom had chosen.
These were my people. Members of my pack. Every decision I made could possibly have an effect on them. I would soon be their alpha, but could I protect them from evil? Even more, would Liza want to stand by my side or would she let the trauma of her childhood and the fear of Castro push her further from me?
My status didn’t matter to me—not if I couldn’t claim Liza. All I could do was hope she wanted this as much as I did.
40
LIZA
As I trudged to my car, my muscles were leaden with exhaustion from a demanding day of catering to a picky and indecisive client. Those were the only kind I seemed to attract lately. I was all for women supporting one another, girl power and all that went with it, but the client was a bitch. There was no other way to accurately describe her.
Each day was a battle of trying to anticipate her ever-changing preferences and needs, and today had been particularly challenging. I had to charge her for three extra meals that I had meticulously prepared, only for her to reject them. She’d looked right into my eyes and flippantly said that they were too salty. It had taken all my willpower to bite my tongue because I knew damn well my meals were perfectly seasoned—and I had rave reviews from the upper echelon of Presley Acres to prove it.
The frustration lingered as I drove home with the containers filled with the leftovers she’d tried to refuse to pay for. I spent a few miles of drive time contemplating whether to freeze them for a quick meal in the future or offer them to my parents.
I even considered handing them over to my diligent bodyguard, who had faithfully followed me throughout the day without so much as a sneeze, staying quiet and alert at all times. I figured he could use a satisfying meal after babysitting me, which I knew was not at all entertaining. Nothing eventful had happened since we left the house in the morning.
All day long, try as I might, I couldn’t get Sylas’s tear-stained face out of my mind. As I chopped carrots, fried chicken, and stirred sauces, I tried to imagine what his life would look like now that he’d been brought back to face punishment for his crimes. I hoped the punishment would be severe.
Sylas deserved what was coming to him, regardless of how remorseful he was. Because of him, Castro was a free man with unlimited resources at his disposal.
The entire conversation Sylas had had with Ty and Dominic was interesting, but I kept replaying one thing: Sylas had asked Castro how he knew about his gambling addiction and his debt to the loan sharks. I wouldn’t have thought information like that was something that could be discovered easily, by say, a Google search. Not something one could look up, anyway, without being in the know in the casino where the money was owed.
Then, Castro had hacked into the so-calledhighly securemedical database at my doctor’s office to retrieve my lifelong medical history. He was a man who obviously had the entire fucking world at his fingertips, and he had some really good connections.
Well, it didn’t matter now. He had the information and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
He couldn’t be an easy man to get along with, and certainly no one in their right mind who wasn’t desperate for a way out of a problem would help a man like Castro. Sylas had been an easy mark.
Of course, perhaps Castro was just better at charming people than I gave him credit for. Or maybe people were intrigued by his light features, and his charm—assuming he had any—was incidental. Whatever it was, it had given him the opportunity to strike up conversations and lure people into his evil web of deception.
Either way, I was fucking terrified of his next move. He was too unpredictable, and too off-the-chart to be anything less than dangerous. Even more than that, I worried others would learn I was an omega, and I’d have men breaking down my door to have their way with me. Of course, I’d been living with that fear since I’d found out what I was. Since I was a child, certainly.
A vision of the men from the ice cream parlor popped into my head, their fangs practically dripping with saliva as they looked me up and down, taking in every inch of me, their gazes lingering on every curve and every plane.
It was exactly those types of thoughts that had slowly brought me around to the idea of having protectors standing just outside my clients’ doors. Although some had given me puzzled looks when I tried to explain that the bodyguard was necessary, they all accepted the idea once I reminded them that I was the future mate of the soon-to-be-named alpha. Even the crab ass from today accepted it.
I couldn’t help that it wasn’t the whole truth, but if it weren’t for my relationship with Ty, I wouldn’t have access to a full security detail, so I’d explain it in whichever way worked for me. The details of my private life were mine, and private. No client was entitled to them simply because they were a client.
When I finally made it home, Ty’s truck was parked in the driveway, which was a surprise, and a pleasant one. I hadn’t expected him to be done with his meeting so early. If I was honest, I’d expected them to be plotting well into the night. Good thing I had the meals the bitch-client hadn’t wanted. Thethought of standing over a hot stove after cooking for other people all day made me queasy, and I was sick of take-out.
The weariness that clung to my bones from the mentally draining day lifted when I walked through the door. Knowing that Ty and I could spend a full evening together was a relief, though I figured we’d spent a good portion of it talking about Sylas, the interrogation, and whatever plan he and his father had come up with to find Castro.
A mouthwatering aroma assaulted my senses and stopped me in my tracks when I entered the kitchen.
Ty manned the stove, spoon in one hand, potholder in the other, and a playful smirk on his lips.
Delighted laughter bubbled from my chest. “I didn’t know you could cook!” My eyes widened as I took in the roast perched on the counter and surrounded by perfectly golden roasted potatoes and savory carrots. Saliva pooled in my mouth.
