Would it be too much to ask that the body sneaking down the stairs belongs to Kase or Lincoln, searching for an ice pack after beating the ever-loving hell out of one another?

Probably.

Grabbing my almost empty tumbler of Scotch, I take the final swig. How did we go so wrong in such a short period of time?

Chelsea peeks around the wall that separates the stairwell from the living room. Her eyes bug almost comically when she spots me.

I quirk an eyebrow, placing my now-empty glass on the end table. “Running, love?”

“N-No.” She lies so terribly that I chuckle.

“Considering it?”

“Yeah,” she admits. “Just over to my house.”

I nod. Perhaps that’s where she would begin, but I have a sinking feeling that if she walks out that door, it won’t be only to walk to her house. I imagine she’d climb into her vehicle and make a real go of trying to get the hell away from us.

“How about you come sit with me? If you’d still like to leave following our conversation, then I won’t stop you. I’ll even walk you over to be safe and head off on my merry way.”

She’s still peeking her head around the corner, and I wait patiently as she rolls her lower lip between her teeth.

“Okay.” She pulls her computer bag off over her neck and drops it in the nearby chair. She’s in the coat Lincoln bought her, and it’s very clear she was bolting.

I take a deep breath and attempt to shake off the lingering frustration I’ve been experiencing since she disappeared earlier. None of those feelings are directed at her but toward our situation. Our actions were intended to take stress off her shoulders, but alphas and omegas approach situations differently.

Not to mention, I’m sure the three of us would be a lot for anyone to handle. Everything in me aches to offer my lap to the hesitant little omega, but she scurries onto the long end of the sectional and stretches out.

She even has her shoes on.

And this is why I spent the last three hours surveying the door while allowing myself to become mildly intoxicated.

Okay, moderately intoxicated.

She settles in, and I twist to face her.

Strangely, she looks healthier and more vibrant than she has yet.

Good Lord, I hope that’s not a result of her deciding we’re too crazy to deal with.

No, that makes little sense.

It must be her bonding with Lincoln, as well as a steady stream of alpha pheromones.

The omega huffs, planting her hands on her stomach. Being the pushy son of a bitch I become when Chelsea is involved, I reach over and brush my palm over the baby.

“How’s she doing?” I ask, meeting Chelsea’s big blue eyes.

“Okay, I think.” She shrugs. “She’s moving around a lot.”

“Perhaps she senses a bit of Mom’s stress?”

“Maybe,” she concedes, blowing her lips together. “It’s hard. My body isn’t even really my own right now, and I hate that she has to experience every emotion with me.”

“The mommy guilt is real, but don’t fret. She won’t remember any of this.” Clearly, I’m drunker than I thought, since that should be obvious. “Would you like to ask any questions about what you heard earlier? The type of individuals that we are responsible for ending are next-level threats.”

“I believe you,” she says. “It’s complicated, but not for the reasons I bet you’d expect. My mom was a firefighter. She didn’t share a lot, but some calls…they wore on her, you know? Like, she told me about one abusive husband who burned their family house down rather than leaving when the wife got the nerve to tell him he had to go. The wife got caught in the flames, trying to get to her kids. Their two children died from smoke inhalation, and the mom passed away the next day from her burns.” Her hand runs over mine as I continue to caress her stomach. “So, yeah, I get it. There’s some trash that doesn’t deserve to live. My mom said the neighbors told them the deal before they ever went in. Yet, she had to drag him out. He got to live. How’s that fair? She held me extra close that night.”

Chelsea is clearly trapped in that memory with her mother, and she looks so sad that I ache to pull her into my arms. I settle for scooting closer, because she’s not fighting the contact that we already have.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s kind of a running theme.” She laughs, but it’s a mirthless sound. “And I get that life is fragile, but I…” Her eyes fall shut as her head shakes. “This is going to sound so ridiculous, but I liked that you guys seemed to have a boring job. I think I hyperfocused on the security system stuff, and that made me feel safe, like Lincoln would be unlikely to go to work one day and just never come home. I’m pretty sure contract killers don’t have the same life expectancy rates as security techs.”

“I’m glad that you understand what we mean when we say it takes a certain type of person for them to be on our radar.” I want to tell her vague details, only enough so that she understands we aren’t spree killers.

My first kill was the clerk at the convenience store on the way home from school. The private middle and high school that my siblings and I attended had an enforced uniform of skirts that would never pass dress code by today’s standards.

It took me several months to notice how uncomfortable my little sisters were to stop in to buy their treats on our way home. They’d often attempt to talk me into taking them to a farther away shop.

I’m still not sure if he ever did anything worse than attempt to look up their skirts, but leering and the general disgusting way he carried himself was enough for me.

At least my sisters had me to accompany them; not all the young ladies in our neighborhood had someone watching out for them. When I heard he purposely placed candies on the low shelves in an attempt to get them to flash him for free snacks… That was enough to ensure I’ve never felt an ounce of guilt over ending his life.

And that’s the tamest of what I’ve seen.

Most I would never convey to Chelsea.

There are certain types of evil that would keep her up at night to hear about, even with me censoring the majority of the details. The bottom line is, women and children will always be at risk in our world.

I sigh, trying to find the right words to set her at ease. “We’ve scaled down that lifestyle over the last year or two. We’re essentially in retirement, but the one thing none of us could overlook would be a threat to your safety.”

Chelsea’s eyes pop open, and her head lazily swivels toward me. “It’s not natural how reassuring my instincts find that. That can’t be normal.”

I chuckle, stretching my left hand over to brush my fingers over her cheek. “I wish you would stay. If you’d like some continued space, I will ensure Linc and Kase give it to you. But if you’re dead set on heading next door, I will put on my shoes and coat and walk you over.”

Her nose wrinkles as she thinks through my offer, but eventually, she shakes her head. “No, I just got the nest smelling the way I wanted it to. I’ll sleep in there tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“I think that would make all of us feel better.” I find myself stretching to kiss her forehead before I can stop myself, and Chelsea smiles sheepishly as I pull back.

“Forehead kisses are nice.”

They sure as fuck are. Now I just have to determine how to finish fixing the mess we created tonight.


Getting Chelsea back upstairs and settled into the nest doesn’t take long. I’m more surprised I don’t see Sky, but if I had to guess, I would imagine Linc kept her in his room tonight.

Here’s hoping he and Kase had the presence of mind to go for gut shots, but based on the sounds alone earlier… They got out their rage. Those two truly do act like brothers. They fight and make up on a weekly basis, with no grudges held.

I tuck the blanket around the little omega. “You know which door is mine if you need me.”

She nods. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Always,” I say, trying to pump myself up to actually leave the nest.

Chelsea tugs her arm free of the comforter and pats the mattress next to her. “You could stay until I fall asleep, if you want to.”

My mouth goes dry.

“I would like that very much.” I nod for her to scoot over, and she moves to the middle, which if I was a thoughtful alpha, I would have given her easy access to the edge. I’m sure she needs multiple bathroom visits a night, but I suppose she can roll over and exit on the other side of the bed.

I climb onto the mattress, waiting to see if she’ll face me or give me her backside, since I know she can’t sleep on her back. She rolls away from me and scoots until her rump hits my hip. Rolling onto my side, I perfectly frame her back.

“Goodnight, love,” I murmur as my arm comes to rest in the indent above her hip.

“Night, Arden.”

Christ.

Tonight was a roller coaster that I would be happy to never revisit.

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