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“I blacked out.” Alister looked up at him from under thick lashes, still appearing dazed.
“That’s all you remember?” Wyatt asked softly just as Cannon came from the hallway, clothes gripped in one hand.
After blinking several times, Alister burst out crying as his gaze swept over the room. “I opened the door and then hit the floor. I didn’t even have a chance to see or smell who it was. I just recall immense pain in my head, and then everything is blank from there!” He brushed his shaky hand over the fox lying next to him, as though touching Paris reassured him that his best friend was alive. “I thought it was Cannon coming to pick up Paris.”
“It was Negan,” Wyatt said gently.
Alister’s eyebrows shot up, and then furrowed. “But I haven’t spoken to him since our argument about the thirty dollars he owed me! Why would he come here and do all this?”
Wyatt had been arresting Negan for the past fifteen years. If there was one thing he knew about the piece of shit, it was that Negan was extremely vindictive. He probably came by the apartment to get payback for being arrested.
“Negan texted me afterward, but I never responded.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Cannon. “Oh god! You must hate me. I should have checked first, but I swear I thought it was you at the door. I allowed Negan inside because I was careless. I’m so sorry.”
It was killing Wyatt to see Alister so distressed. His arms ached to envelope his mate in them and chase away the world. Wyatt was all too familiar with guilt. He’d lived with it for over 176 years. Lived with it since the night he’d been too late to save Andrea.
“Go get dressed, Alister,” Wyatt said. “I can hear footsteps coming up the stairs. That should be the deputies arriving.”
Wyatt already felt the need to attack Cannon for being near Alister while the guy was naked. If more men entered the room, Wyatt wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his shit together. His mate had already been through something traumatic, and Alister didn’t need to see Wyatt lose it.
When Alister reached Negan’s dead body, he jumped back, slapping a hand over his mouth. Wyatt shot off the table and gripped his mate’s shoulders, turning Alister so he wouldn’t have to see Negan any longer.
After Alister spoke to Cannon, Wyatt led his mate to his bedroom and closed the door behind them. He didn’t want to let the guy go, but did so when he helped Alister sit on the bed. His mate’s petite body trembled, and he rubbed his hands over his upper arms. Wyatt wanted to be the one who rubbed them, the one who comforted his mate.
That deep, primal urge overwhelmed Wyatt, but he walked toward the dresser instead.
“I was useless.” Alister wiped at his eyes. “If Negan hadn’t attacked me as soon as I answered the door, I could have helped Paris fight him.”
Wyatt rummaged through dresser drawers and grabbed a pair of shorts, a sparkly purple shirt, and some underwear. For a brief moment, he stood there, gripping the clothes in his hand. Then he took a deep breath to center himself. Alister needed strength right now, not a snarly beast.
“No one knew he was going to show up.” Wyatt walked back to the bed and pulled Alister up long enough to help him dress. Immediately after, Alister sank back down. “It was a setup. Negan damaged Cannon’s truck, knowing Cannon would come after him.”
“That still doesn’t make me feel any better.” Alister hugged himself, seeming so damn lost. “Paris was left all alone to fight him. I’m well aware preternatural are a lot stronger than humans, but Paris isn’t a fighter. There’s no telling what Negan did to him before Paris killed him.”
Wyatt squatted in front of his mate, taking Alister’s small, slim hands into his larger ones. His skin was soft. “The only thing that matters is you and Paris survived and Negan died.”
Alister glanced toward his bedroom door as he squeezed Wyatt’s hands. “I can hear people in the living room. Go talk to them.”
“I’d rather stay here with you.” Wyatt stood and sat next to Alister, forcing his hands to stay in his lap instead of circling around his mate. “You still seem shaken, butterfly.”
“Why did you call me that?” Alister gazed up at Wyatt, his eyes still watery from crying.
Wyatt shrugged. “It just popped into my head, but it fits you.”
“Please,” Alister said. “Go see what’s happening. I need a moment to myself.”
“I’ll be right back.” Reluctantly, Wyatt left the room, making sure the door was closed. He spoke with Sheriff Harper and then found Cannon in Paris’s bedroom.
His friend looked in bad shape as he gazed at the fox in the center of the bed. What Negan had done was devastating to Paris and Alister, but it was Paris who’d fought Negan, who’d killed the human.
Wyatt talked with Cannon for a moment, telling his friend to stop torturing himself when the lion shifter speculated on what happened. No one would know until Paris woke up and told them.
They spoke for a moment, but all Wyatt wanted to do was get back to Alister. Regardless of his mate saying he needed a moment; the guy was dealing with too much. When Cannon asked how Alister was doing, Wyatt lied.
He wasn’t sure why, either. Maybe because he wanted Cannon to focus on his own mate right now. Maybe because it wasn’t anyone’s business what Wyatt and Alister talked about.
When Paris shifted into his human form and became hysterical, Wyatt excused himself and went back to Alister’s bedroom. His mate stood by the window, now dressed, and stared out into the darkness. “I-I don’t want to stay here.”
“Come stay with me.” There was no way Wyatt would let his mate remain in the apartment when it looked like a warzone. Alister already seemed fragile, and Wyatt wasn’t going to let his mate be alone.
