As I look, though, a message from Violet appears.
You going to tell me about them? Or am I going to have to fly up there to see the packet myself?
A flicker of memory from when I last saw her, when I found out the Council wasn’t going to match me after all, plays behind my eyes, just like it has since I got the packet on Monday. Suspicion grows heavier in my stomach.
You sure you need to see the packet to know about them?
The dots hover for a minute before the next text pops up.
I plead the fifth.
Did you seriously?
Our conversation must look completely outlandish to anyone looking in.
I promised you I’d fix it.
I can’t even say I’m surprised. Tell Dominic thank you.
That one of her Alphas was part of the Italian mafia is sort of an open secret in the family. Mostly, we don’t talk about it. But I guess sometimes it’s useful.
The middle-aged man driving the car quietly clears his throat. “Sir? I believe they’re here.”
My gaze flicks to the sidewalk. A few cars ahead of us, another black sedan pulls to the curb.
Text from Violet: It was actually Victor. I’ll just pretend your thanks was for me, though.
Text from Violet: You’re welcome, by the way.
I send a quick text to my sister before shoving my phone in my pocket.
Text from Cole: Remind me to never get on your bad side.
“Thank you,” I offer the driver.
He nods once.
As the back door of the other car opens, I settle the Mariners ball cap over my hair—a layer of protection to hopefully keep fewer people from noticing me—and then step out of the car and onto the busy curb. It takes only a moment to cross to the other car. By the time I’ve reached it, Charlotte’s tucking her phoneinto a small bag and turning away from the car, her gaze soaking in the entrance to Pike’s Place I’d suggested.
“Hey.” My voice is low and calm. “You made it.”
She twists, her eyes wide for a moment, before she relaxes and a radiant smile brightens her face. Part of her dark brown hair is pulled back, leaving a few waves to frame her face while the rest cascades down her back. Her short blue skirt and white crop top seem to glow against the dreary clouds and overcast landscape. When I close the final bit of distance, her eyes track down my body, taking in my own outfit of jeans and a t-shirt that covers the bond scar, and her cheeks flush.
I hold out my hand in silent offer, and she doesn’t hesitate to lace our fingers together, pressing our palms flat and grabbing my elbow in her other hand, forcing me right against her side. After a moment, the soft, clean aroma of sage surrounds us. My body inherently relaxes as I breathe it in.
“Wow,” she whispers, her attention now on the large market behind me. After a minute, her nose scrunches. “There’s so much fish.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, there’s definitely a lot of vendors that sell fish here. You’ll get used to the smell after a bit, though.”
She smiles that same radiant smile. My stomach tightens in a way it hasn’t with anyone but Marcus. I want to kiss her already, learn if her lips are as soft as they look. The desire blindsides me, and I forget for a moment I’m supposed to be running this date of sorts.
She flushes before clearing her throat. “You mentioned you have a favorite coffee vendor?”
“Right.”
Mentally shaking myself, I guide us through the stalls, carefully avoiding the worst of the crowds. It might not be a sunny weekend, but that doesn’t much deter the foot trafficthrough here. Someone bumps into me as we round the final corner, forcing me off balance and stumbling into Charlotte.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “You okay?”
