Milo?
Every hair on the back of my neck stands up at once, and my head snaps up at the sound of his voice.
Milo steps through the open bay door, squinting slightly at the shift from bright afternoon sun to the dimmer interior of the shop. He's dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a soda can in his free hand.
His dark curls are tied at the back of his neck like always. He's thinner than I remember, his jaw sharper.
Milo’s eyes sweep the shop and find me on the workbench, and something moves across his face that looks almost like shock.
"Elle." His eyes narrow, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. "You’re really here.”
Raff moves before I can even open my mouth.
One second he's leaning against the Camaro with Perrin, and the next he's crossing the shop floor in long, unhurried strides that somehow still manage to eat up the distance in no time at all. He stops between me and Milo, close enough that Milo has to take a small, involuntary step back.
"Can I help you?" Raff asks forcefully.
Beside me, Odette rises from the workbench without a word. She shifts her tall frame forward, positioning herself at my side. Her cinnamon scent sharpens almost imperceptibly,and I feel the shift in the air around her the way you feel a change in weather before it arrives.
Milo’s eyes go wide as they flicker to her, then back to Raff, and something in his expression recalibrates.
"I'm just here to see Elle," he says, his eyes darting briefly to me around Raff's big body.
"How do you know her?" Raff's voice has gone completely flat now, his eyes locked on Milo like he's daring the beta to say the wrong thing. "And how did you know where to find her?"
Milo shifts his weight, from one foot to the other. "We worked together," he says, his eyes cutting to me again briefly. "Anton told me she’d probably be here.”
Did Anton send him, or is this something else entirely?
Milo has always been very nice to me, but he’s also worked for Anton for a very long time. They have a relationship that goes backyears. So it’s very possible that Anton sent Milo to deliver some kind of message.
At least he’s not Anton.
Milo doesn't have Anton's authority or Anton's reach, and he's never once in six months made me feel like I was in immediate physical danger.
Which doesn't mean I trust him.
It just means I'd rather be the one talking to him than have Raff do it for me.
I slide off the workbench. "It's okay, Raff," I say carefully. "I know him."
Raff doesn't move. He looks at me over his shoulder with an expression that says he has heard me but has zero interest in moving even an inch.
I step up beside my alpha, close enough that our arms brush. Odette’s shoes tap against the concrete, moving with me, staying right at my back.
"Hey," I say to Milo, keeping my voice easy as I really look at him.
Up close, he looks even more off. His jaw is tight and his eyes are glassy. He's holding the soda can at his side, and every few seconds his wrist jerks, making the liquid slosh against the aluminum in a thin, restless rattle, like he doesn't even know he's doing it.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
Milo lets out a breath, his shoulders dropping slightly, like my speaking to him directly has given him permission to relax. "I've been trying to get a hold of you since the market," he says. "You just disappeared. No call, or message." He shakes his head. "I was worried about you, Pérez."
I want to point out that we didn’t call or text before, so why would I now. But I keep that to myself.
“Hey, uh.” Milo glances at Raff, then back to me. "Can we maybe talk somewhere a little more private?"
Raff makes a sound that isn't quite a laugh, but makes itveryclear Milo is not going to get me alone.
