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Then glug, and it’s gone.
I’ll leave the pack just like that.
Disappear and be done with them all.
And just like the drone, buried beneath the water, I bet none of them ever comes looking for me.
***
Thirty-Two
FINN
Babydoll’s avoiding us.
I didn’t notice because we’ve been in the shit. Scorpio has us hunting leads, trying to find that asshole Dominik. Atlas and Jett are in their fucking element, giving orders everywhere.
I haven’t seen her in days.
That shouldn’t bother me.
Lilah’s just a pet. A plaything to take the edge off.
She was never going to be permanent.
I don’t deserve permanent. I don’t want permanent. Some soft, breakable fucking adorable little thing like Lilah?
She deserves love. I don’t do love.
I only have two emotions. One is hog-wild.
The other? Fucking annoyed, and I’m feeling it hard.
My trigger finger twitches.
“You can’t kill our target,” Hunter says from the driver’s seat of the big-ass panel van where we’re pulling surveillance.
We’re following some low-level Redfang, trying to trace him back to Dom, but this guy’s been in a massage parlor for forty-five minutes. “He should thank me for letting him die on a happy ending.”
“Then you explain to Kieran why we can’t neutralize the threat.”
“No thanks.” Dad and I have a church relationship. I think about him on Christmas, then eat a chocolate orange and make myself forget he exists until next season.
Damn. I miss eggnog.
Hunter leans against the steering wheel, unsubtly glancing at the dash clock. He can play cool all he wants. I know this asshole. “You’re thinking about her.”
“Bullshit,” he mutters, but there’s a tic in his jaw that calls out his shit.
Straightening in the passenger seat, I rub my hands together in glee. Undone Hunter is best Hunter. “Clubbing tonight? We need to get laid.”
“Not in the mood.”
Not in the mood to get laid?
Fucking impossible.
“You mean not in the mood to cruise for a rando when we have two sweet omegas waiting at home?”
