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CHAPTER 11
BROCK
I don’t get jealous.
And especially not now.
I don’t even want her in my house.
She’s a risk to all of us, and Killian and Dylan are insane for thinking this is a good idea.
But I gave my word.
So instead, I bury myself in my work for the next day, trying to ignore the fact that there’s an unmated Omegain my fucking house.
The air purifiers arrived earlier today, along with a bulk order of cashmere blankets, just in case.
Killian found suppressants in her bag, which are fuckingillegal, but at least it’s preventing her Heat.
But what happens when she runs out?
Neither of them thought of the long-term, and it’s infuriating.
Killian is impulsive and reckless, while Dylan thinks with his heart and not his mind. While they’re both over the moon for Olive, I’m sitting at my desk like an asshole looking up prison time.
Because I don’t fucking want her here.
Yes, she’s beautiful—all Omegas are.
But she’s also throwing a hissy fit because she doesn’t want to be atEden.
The girl could have anything she wants there—it’s a paradise people would kill for.
Yet she’s rejecting it and putting all of us at risk.
Dylan enters my office without knocking, and I turn to glare at him.
“Yes?” I ask.
He returns my glare, and I wonder what’s put him in a foul mood.
That’s when I sense her scent on him, and it connects.
“You pissed her off,” I claim, fighting a smirk. He flops down on the couch next to the door, groaning.
“I told her about the bounty,” he admits, and I swivel in my chair to face him. “Like an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot for telling her the truth. It’s a reality she needs to face.”
I sound like a heartless asshole, but hiding it from her wasn’t doing anyone any favors.
He flinches. “Yeah, well, you weren’t there to see her face. It broke her heart.”
Guilt flares in me, which I quickly tamp down.
“Do you really want to have this conversation?” I say slowly. “Because you already know how I feel about this. I don’t want her here. End of story.”
“She begged me to drive her back up north,” he mutters to himself, no longer paying attention to me. “I almost went with her.”
