The temperature was dropping fast. We couldn’t stay up here all night. I needed to take Sky somewhere safe. Somewhere warm.
“C’mon,” I murmured, nudging him. He moaned softly, miserably. “You’re coming home with me tonight.”
Carefully, my heart aching, I helped Sky to his feet. We made it down the ladder without falling—a miracle in itself, with how drunk Sky was—and back to the car still blinking away on the side of the road.
I tucked the Omega into the passenger’s side, buckled him in, and shut the door. Then I slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the heat as hot as it would go.
Still, I couldn’t shake the quivering in my bones. Cold? Fear? Or both. Because if Sky had truly killed someone…
No. I refused to believe that.
I drove us home. Once there, I helped him undress. His clothes were soaked, and he was a mess. He shifted uncomfortably as I helped him into a pair of Adam’s pajama pants and a fluffy blue robe.
“There we go. Much better.” I tossed the soggy clothing into the hamper and made a mental note to do the laundry in the morning.
I grabbed the trash can out of the bathroom because Sky had drank a lot of alcohol, and while shifters had a higher tolerance than humans, Sky was still young. I set it down beside the couch.
Sky followed me into the living room. He sniffled, wiping at his teary eyes and his blistery red, swollen face. When I sat down on the couch and patted the spot beside me, he hesitated, then all but collapsed next to me. I wrapped him in blankets.
“There we go. Just rest, sweetheart,” I murmured, stroking damp hair out of his face. “You’re safe here.”
Minutes later, he snuggled up next to me, passed out cold with his head in my lap.
Only then did I relax. I released my pent-up breath, closed my eyes, and let the anxiety in my soul from the past few hours ebb away. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. Not yet.
Shifting a bit, I wiggled my phone out of my pocket. I needed to text Adam. My mate would be pacing the floor, worrying himself sick about me.
I quickly tapped out a text:I found Sky. He’s safe. I brought him home with me, but I don’t want to leavehim alone. Do you think you can catch a ride home with one of the closers?
A few minutes later, my phone chimed back.I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. Stay safe.
I smiled.You too. Love you.
Love you more, kitten.
3
ADAM
Stressed was an understatement.
I paced back and forth through the kitchen, stirring this and plating that, tossing out dinner rush orders as fast as they were coming in.
Because, of course, we were busy. It was a Friday night and everyone and their mother came to Bixby’s to eat on Friday nights.
Normally, I’d welcome the business. Bixby’s was our heart and soul, our bread and butter—practically the child we couldn’t have.
But tonight, my head wasn’t in the game. Instead, it was miles away, with my mate. Fletcher had gone out in this shitty weather to search for Sky after we’d gotten a rather ominous text from the Omega.
It’d been over an hour and I still hadn’t heard a thing. Not a text. Not a phone call. Nothing. I was getting worried. Worried that Sky really had offed himself and my poor mate was picking up the bloody pieces, in shock and horror.
Wouldn’t he have called me, though? If I stumbled upon a dead body, calling my Omega would be the first thing I’d do—well, after calling the police, that is.
As if summoned, my phone vibrated so hard that I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Shit,” I uttered, fumbling to get the hot pads off my hands so I could fish the cell out of my pocket before the call could end.
My stomach sinking, I snatched it up, but it wasn’t Fletcher’s number that popped up on the screen. In fact, I wasn’t sure whose number it was.
Immediately, worries blossomed like flowers in my mind.
