Page 14 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

That single fact cut through the fog of despair that had consumed me. Then Rory’s words—“I need you”—finally penetrated the wall I’d built around myself.

Growing up in our pack in Scotland, I’d been a terrible brother to him. I’d watched our father’s belt connect with Rory’s too-small body and done nothing—worse than nothing. I’d followed his orders when Da decided Rory needed “teaching.” I’d been eighteen, nineteen, twenty even. Old enough to know better. Strong enough to stop it.

But I’d been a coward.

In the years that had followed, my self-loathing only grew and grew, made worse by my failure to protect those I loved within Greywatch. I’d walked away from everything—the pack, my birthright as future alpha, the responsibility I’d been raised for—all because I couldn’t bear to become the kind of leader my father was, yet lacked the spine to change things from within.

Even after I escaped Greywatch, and later rescued Rory from the streets of Glasgow, giving him a home and job in London, I felt little better. If anything, it made it worse. Because Rory looked at me with something dangerously close to hero worship, and I knew the truth—I was no hero. I was the future alpha who’d abandoned his pack rather than fight for change. The elder brother who’d let tradition and fear turn him into his father’s enforcer. I was the bastard who’d helped break him in the first place.

And there I was, selfishly locking myself away again. Shutting down as usual rather than talking to Rory about what finding out our father was alive meant for both of us. Rather than helping him process his own trauma.

I forced myself out of my room. Caught Rory before he reached the end of the corridor, wrapped him up in a wordless hug that I hoped spoke volumes. He sagged against me, and I felt the weight of it all start to ease, for both of us.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his hair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Many hours later, after we’d talked—properly talked, for the first time ever—I casually brought up Felix giving Rory the food. It had been labelled kimchi jjigae. I’d seen Felix eat it months ago for lunch and complimented it. Or at least, tried to compliment it through my usual incoherent mumbling.

Rory shrugged. “Felix just said to give it to you.”

But I couldn’t stop fixating on it. He. Had. Made. Me. Food.

That night, even though it was Saturday, I’d pretended to Rory I was going to buy milk for us and headed straight to Felix’s flat. Just to see him through the window. Just to know he was okay.

It had been two weeks, and my wolf was broken. Pining. Desperate for even a glimpse of our mate. To stand guard over him, just for a few minutes.

The logical part of me knew Felix had made it twenty-three years without my interference just fine. The primal part didn’t give a damn about logic. The wolf in my head wouldn’t settle, not when my mate was out there, vulnerable and unprotected. Not when he wasn’t truly mine.

I punished myself afterwards, pushing through a running session so brutal my muscles screamed and my lungs burned. Collapsed into bed so exhausted that I couldn’t think, couldn’t dream, couldn’t obsess over dark eyes and small, soft hands…

“Kit!”

I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Kit!”

Shit. How long had I been lost in my own thoughts?

“Are you with us?”

A rush of heat shot to my face. Every pair of eyes in the room locked onto me, including Felix’s.

“Aye, boss,” I said sheepishly, wondering if Felix was looking at me with confusion or concern or something worse. “Sorry.”

“Priya just asked you if you’d go with her later, to see if the pair of you can track down this cambion?”

“Right. Aye, I heard. Sorry. Of course.” I nodded at Priya, who was watching me with that knowing look that made me want to crawl under a rock.

“I suggest you acquire a new shirt first,” Seb added dryly. “Unless your plan is to seduce the foul beast, of course.”

The team erupted in laughter. Even Theo smirked behind his coffee cup.

“I really don’t know why my shirtlessness is of so much interest today,” I snapped, “when most of you have seen Rory and me naked hundreds of times.”

“Oi!” Rory protested. “Don’t drag me into this. I’ve never casually stripped for fun. Apart from, you know, all those times I have.” He waggled his eyebrows at Theo, sitting next to him on a sofa. Theo did not dignify him with even a smile. I liked that man more and more every day. “I’ve had lots of practice at that.”

“Enough,” Seb said, though his mouth twitched. “Kit, shirt. Rory, stop being Rory. Everyone else, focus. We have monsters and criminals to catch, not a nature documentary to film.”

“Are we going to talk about Greywatch?” I found myself asking, clearly desperate to move on. Silence immediately fell, and backs stiffened.