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“You make it almost sound good,” Dante murmured. “Almost.”
Mal glanced at Olivia in the mirror. She was smiling, her brows arched high in astonishment.
The SUV stopped, parking in a freestanding garage. Gentry climbed out, opening Dante’s door. “Lend a guy a hand?” Gentry asked.
Now that they were here, Mal was torn—the need to fight and run versus the pull of the pack. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten the feeling. But now, with Dante hurting and vulnerable, he couldn’t shut it out. Mal gritted his teeth and came around the vehicle, hooking Dante’s other arm over his shoulder. He stared at Olivia. “Stay close.” He knew he sounded like an overbearing dick and didn’t care.
“She’s safe,” Dante rasped. “Try to relax.”
Mal kept his thoughts to himself, relieved that Olivia took his other hand and stayed close by his side. She was safe because he was with her. But he knew someone inside was a traitor. He knew to be careful. He was the pack hothead, the reactionary one. He could walk in and start hurling accusations, stir up a shit-storm of suspicion. It’s what he wanted to do. But he wasn’t willing to place Jessa, the baby, Oscar, and Olivia in immediate danger. For now, he was the outsider, something he could use to get the lay of the land. Until he knew who Cyrus’s go-to was, what they were after, he’d stay alert—and close to Olivia.
They’d made it to halfway across the yard when Hollis opened the front door. He sprinted out to meet them. “What happened?” he asked, focusing first on the patient—he was hard-wired that way.
“Motherfuckers opened fire.” Gentry shook his head. “Never done that before. Some shifted, some didn’t. Ones that didn’t, opened fire.”
“Some sort of silver-coated bullets,” Mal offered. “Sticks in the wound.”
Hollis’s sharp green eyes met his, his smile unexpectedly sincere. “Good to see you, Mal.” His awkward one-armed hug was abrupt. He took Dante’s other arm from Mal. “Let’s dig it out.”
“Do I have a choice?” Dante groaned.
Hollis chuckled. “Not if you want to heal.”
“Or shift,” Mal added.
Hollis nodded. “Finn’s coming out to greet you. Both of you.” His gaze lifted long enough to find Olivia.
Mal ran a hand over his face. “Great.”
“It’ll be fine, Mal.” Dante’s voice was unsteady.
“Gentry, stay with me,” Hollis said, leading Dante inside. “I might need an extra set of hands.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Dante groaned.
“It’s not going to feel good, either.” Hollis sighed.
“Way to sugar-coat it, Doc.” Gentry chuckled as they disappeared inside the house.
Finn was coming? What the fuck was taking him so long? He was supposed to stand outside for him to make his appearance? He’d waited long enough. Might as well rip off the fucking Band-Aid so they could all stop feeling guilty. It wouldn’t do much for his wrath. Mal grabbed Olivia around the wrist and pulled her toward the house.
“Mal.” Her voice was soft.
He stopped.
She lifted her arm, his vice-like grip too tight.
“Fuck.” He let go of her, rolled his head, and stared at the sky overhead.
“I know it’s not much, but I’m here Mal.” Her voice was confident, her fingers twining with his. “No matter what, I’ve got your back.”
Her words pulled his gaze to hers, anchoring all his attention on her. She had no idea what her words meant. The life she’d lived had been flipped to hell, her future was uncertain, and in a few hours, she’d be facing her first shift. Instead of freaking out or running for the hills, she was pledging her loyalty to him. For the first time in too long, loneliness didn’t weigh him down.
...
Mal’s smile made it easier to breathe. “I’ll hold you to it.”
She nodded, offering him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
