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“She might be upset,” I point out, trying a different approach. “She’s probably all alone, crying…”
Cassian grinds his jaw, glaring at the building. “The sign says no alphas after eight p.m.”
You remember what I said about rules, though, right?
For the last five minutes, I’ve basically bounced in place. Doing my best not to let the charred honey wafting into this dingy hallway send me into a protective frenzy. There’s also a sharper edge to the lavender note that I’m not sure I love.
What could that mean?
Fuck me, I should’ve Googled.
Cassian looms behind me, still silently raging. “How did you know which apartment was hers?” I mutter.
“I read the address on her file and memorized it.”
Fucking Cass. Always pointing out exactly how much of a dumbass I am.
I reach up to knock, tossing him a pointed look. “Let me talk, okay? You’re all… Beastly. And our girl is a runner.”
He puts his glower back on, rolling his eyes. But I don’t hear a word of argument, either.
It takes a couple of minutes for Remi’s quiet voice to come through the door crack. “Wh-who’s there?”
Fuck, she sounds so sad. Scared and miserable and just… small.
I find myself crowding closer, my eyes falling closed while I press my forehead against the door. “It’s me, pretty girl,” I murmur. My tone drops lower, into the softer one I didn’t know I was capable of until this afternoon. “I couldn’t stay away. Can I come in?”
I hear her hand hit the handle before she stops herself. “C-come in?”
Smiling to myself, I glance over at my packmate. “Yeah, I brought you a surprise. He’s kind of pissed off, though. And, uh, wet.”
The door suddenly falls away, revealing a petite omega in a thin, floral robe. The light in the hall is dim, but it’s easy to see she’s been crying. Her face is swollen, and her eyes look red and squinty. A cascade of mussed black silk spills over one shoulder in a clump of curls.
Shit. Was she in bed?
Omega, you idiot, my brain jeers. She was probably in her nest thingy.
More shit to Google.
A wave of her sharp, burnt stress floods out of the tiny apartment. Cassian snaps forward instantly, the harsh lines of his face fading into concern.
He isn’t the only one. Remi makes a distressed sound in her throat and tugs us both in by our shirts.
“You guys!” she scolds. “It’s pouring out there! You’re going to get sick!”
She fusses with both of us, delicate fingers plucking at my soggy T-shirt and Cassian’s drenched hoodie. I can’t move—I’m too busy obsessively watching the way her face furrows into a pout.
She huffs, exasperated, and throws her hands up. “Honestly, what were you two thinking?”
That you are so fucking cute, I could die.
“It’s Cassian’s fault,” I tell her, literally pointing my finger. “He went all moody-broody Batman on your front stoop.”
Remi’s fists fall to her slight hips, and she sniffs, tossing her hair back while she looks up at Cass. “I take it that means you saw the sign on the front door?”
Is Cassian cringing? Oh my God, he is. Why don’t we have a camera?
“Yeah,” he admits. “I, ah, saw that.”
