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“Dammit, Dash.” Quinn turns the volume down. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Aw, you’re just mad I have what she really needs.” Dash clearly has zero self-preservation. “Right?—”
A thud sounds, and the line goes silent.
For a few minutes, neither of us says anything. It’s obvious what just happened.
“Aria, right?” Quinn chuckles nervously again. I note the tell as I meet his gaze in the rearview mirror again at a red light. “That’s my pack brother, and I am going to have to pick him up.”
Oh hell no.
“I very clearly need to get home.” Just the thought of being anywhere near a bar makes my skin itch.
That’s where I met the ex-mistake, so all of the bars feel like the same shady space.
“Listen, let me check his location. If he’s on the way, then I’ll roll past. He probably got kicked out. If he’s nowhere near us, then I’ll call him a cab.” Quinn uses a soft voice to talk to me like I’m a rabid animal.
I am, but only a little.
“Check,” I say through clenched teeth, my heart racing as I weigh the risks. Every instinct screams at me to refuse, to demand he take me straight home. But a small voice in my head whispers that I’m being paranoid. Cayenne is going to be pissed.
“All right, he’s above Hyde Park.” Quinn taps the screen and looks back at me by turning around at the next red light. “On any other day, I wouldn’t do this, but…Dash has a habit of putting his foot in his mouth.”
“I can tell,” I mutter, my fingers digging into the seat cushion. The logical part of my brain argues that it’s just a small detour, but my omega instincts are on high alert. After a moment of internal struggle, I give Quinn a curt nod. “Don’t make me regret this,” I say, my voice tight with tension.
“I promise you are safe with us,” he says.
I let the words roll right over me. I know just how empty promises are, especially those uttered by very handsome men, but for some reason, I believe this strange man. It’s how he says it that makes me believe him. It isn’t with an alpha’s bark, an omega’s docile nature, or even a beta’s sass. It’s neutral and soft and gives me all the warm fuzzies.
I resist the urge to cry as he turns down the road right as my phone starts going off. It doesn’t matter that I believe him, I really wanted to go home and crawl into my bed.
I regret getting out of bed this morning. I turn my phone off and toss it in my bag. Cayenne will only keep calling until I answer, but she damn well has eyes on me right now. She just wants a verbal confirmation of life.
Just this once, I’ll ask for forgiveness from Cayenne. I’ll deal with the consequences later, but her overbearing nature is getting put in time-out.
I just hope I don’t regret that choice.
3
DASH
The thumping bass of the club’s music pulses through my veins, each beat syncing with my heartbeat. Neon lights flash in a dizzying array of colors, painting the sweaty dancers in electric hues. The air is thick with the scent of spilled drinks and designer perfumes. A wide grin stretches across my face as I lose myself in the sensory overload. Friday nights are my sanctuary. I take a swig from my bottle, the fizzy sweetness tickling my throat and amplifying the electric buzz in the air. There’s nothing like losing yourself in the chaos to forget the week’s troubles.
Life is good…mostly.
The unmistakable scent of alcohol lingers in the air, mixed with sweat and perfume, but underneath it all, there’s a hint of something familiar, something that reminds me of rotten, threadbare sheets and rats racing across the floor. The memory hits me like a punch to the gut, a reminder of where I came from.
Growing up, Quinn and I had it rough. Well, even that’s describing our childhood in a positive light. It was shit. I take another swig of my drink, the burn of alcohol a bitter difference to the sweet cocktails around me. Our parents weren’t exactly the nurturing type, and home was more like a battleground than a safe haven. The pulsing lights of the club fade as memories flood back. Dad was always supposedly working late, and Mom had a thing for the bottle. I learned early on that if you didn’t look out for yourself, no one else would. A dancer bumps into me, jolting me back to the present. I shake off the ghosts of the past and dive back into the crowd.
I still don’t know how two betas created two alphas.
Quinn, being older by a couple of years, tried to shield me from the worst of it. He was the responsible one, the one who made sure I had food to eat and did my homework, but even he couldn’t protect me from everything. I remember one night, when I was about ten, Mom had been on a bender and Dad was nowhere to be found. She stumbled into the living room, slurring her words and yelling about something I couldn’t understand. Quinn stepped between us, taking the brunt of her anger. I watched helplessly as she threw a vase that shattered against the wall next to his head.
That night, after she passed out, Quinn packed us a bag and we ran away. We spent the night at a friend’s house, and for the first time in a long while, I felt safe. It was a brief respite though. We were back home by morning, with Dad promising things would change.
They didn’t.
They never fucking changed.
