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“Aden is back at the apartment, probably watching the front door,” I say when he doesn’t break the silence.
“And the reason you’re here?” his voice is smooth. There’s none of the warmth I’m used to hearing in Aden’s voice or the dark amusement in Kade’s.
Controlled.
That’s the word I’m looking for.
A flurry of unease settles in my gut. He’s the leader here, Aden said, which means he must be an alpha wolf like Rylan. The most dominant and powerful wolf in the pack. Rylan controlled his pack using violence and brute force. He liked to wear smart tailored shirts and suits.
Just like Dariel.
Maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Impatience tightens the skin around his eyes. “If you just came here to—"
“I needed to talk to you,” I say quickly because I can’t just walk away after what Kade did for me. I can’t let Dariel punish him for something that wasn’t his fault.
“And you couldn’t talk to Aden?”
Another gust of wind blows hair into my eyes. I brush it aside. For a second, I’m almost positive his gaze latches onto my left wrist, but if it does, it’s over so quickly I’m not sure I wasn’t just seeing things.
“No, I couldn’t because he would try to stop me.”
“From?”
“Leaving.”
A long stare, just as unreadable as his tone, and he spins on his heel and stalks inside. “Follow me.”
I hesitate long enough that the door nearly slams shut with me on the wrong side of it. Just in time, I grab onto the edge, wincing because it was with my left hand, and pull it open the rest of the way.
The door closes with sharp finality behind me as I follow Dariel inside the deathly quiet bar.
I walk in to destruction.
Broken tables and chairs spill over every inch of the place. It doesn’t look like anything has survived.No, that’s not right.My eyes go to the same dark corner it has more times than I could count. The black couch looks untouched, as well as the table that I hid behind. I lift my right hand and touch my forehead, remembering something cutting into me as I hid.
Aden must have cleaned the cut because my fingers brush against a small fabric plaster. It’s a reminder of yet another thing he’s done for me.
Leaving is the right thing to do.
If Nathan got his hands—or teeth—on Aden… the crack that Simon’s neck made when Nathan snapped it fills my head.
I shake my head to clear the image—and the sound—from it. And it works. A little.
The bar looks like it’s taken the worst of the damage. No bottles line the back tables and the mirrored back wall has a massive crack down the front.
I hope they had insurance.
“Now.”
I jerk my head to my right, and leaning against one corner of the bar is Dariel, tossing back the contents of an amber liquid from one of the few glasses to have survived. He doesn’t strike me as the daytime drinking type. His expression is too sober and serious for that. But after what happened here, if there was a time for a morning drink, I’m thinking this is it.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
Why do I get the feeling he’s talking about more than just today?
I force myself to meet his eyes as he lowers the empty glass to the bar beside a half-empty decanter. “I know I only worked a few hours so I’m not entitled to much, but—”
