Page 154 of The Rust in Her Hair

He's home early.

Warmth flickers through me, and all thoughts of those cramps vanish.

I grab the pair of soft cotton panties that Nico set out for me on the counter, as well as one of his shirts. I step into the panties and pull the shirt on. The material is thin and soft, and it swallows me whole. I inhale the collar, pulling in that hazelnut aroma, then I practically skip out of the bathroom, excited to see my beta.

"You're home early," I yell out, coming around the corner into the living room. "It’s not even noon⁠—”

Then I stop dead in my tracks.

Nico is standing in front of Owen still completely naked, one hand gripping Owen's chin, tilting the beta’s face toward the light. The skin under one eye is dark and dusky and there’s a smear of dried blood at the edge of his nostril.

My stomach drops.

"Owen, oh my god, your face." I rush to my mate. "What happened?"

"It's nothing." Owen catches my hand, and he even manages a small, tired smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Really. It looks worse than it is."

But it isn't nothing.

While I don't share a direct bond with Owen, I have spent over a year learning this man's face, and I know when he's holding something back. There's a tightness around his mouth that has nothing to do with a sore nose.

Something happened.

"Sit down," I tell him, steering him toward the couch with both hands. "I'll get ice." I hurry to the kitchen, dig a handful of cubes out of the freezer, and wrap them in a clean dish towel.

Nico still hasn't said a word. He's just standing there, watching Owen, all that easy warmth gone out of him. Even our bond is silent.

He must be livid.

I press the ice gently to the swelling under Owen's eye. He hisses, then covers my hand with his.

"Tell us what happened," I say quietly.

Owen's jaw works. He looks at me, then at Niico, and I watch him decide whether to spare us.

"Owen." Nico’s voice comes out low and flat, filled with alpha authority. "Talk to me, cariño."

It takes a moment, but then Owen lets out a slow breath. "Crispin came to the library this morning."

The name goes through me like ice-cold water, and my hand goes still against Owen's face.

"He came to see me in my office." Owen keeps his voice even, careful. "He's figured out we're a pack.”

The bottom drops out of my stomach, and my mouth goes dry.

“He wants Adrian to call him tonight,” Owen continues, “and if he doesn't, he's going to tell Aldric that Lyra's being kept by a pack and have the claim overturned."

I'm suddenly dizzy.

The edges of the room go soft and distant, and my hands are cold and prickling.

"He hit you?" Nico’s voice drops to a dangerous tone as he stares at the blood at Owen's nose, the bruise. "That son of a bitch put his hands on you." Fury rolls off the alpha, that big easygoing body drawing up tight and mean.

"I'm fine⁠—"

"You are not fine." Nico turns, looking for something. His eyes land on his phone in the center of the coffee table. He snatches it up, and for once there's not a scrap of humor anywhere on him. "There’s not one fucking thing about this that’s fine."

The room goes quiet as he taps the screen of his phone, and I realize there’s a high thin ringing in my ears. Something in my chest tightens and my hand slowly falls away from the ice on Owen’s face. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice. The beta is too busy staring at Nico.