He points toward our right. I glance over my shoulder, realizing they’ve opened a secondary set of doors along the far wall that I’ve never seen messed with before. What happened that this area has to be closed during a massive event?
“The other member of our pack is out there,” I say in my professional, don’t-fuck-with-me voice. He raises an eyebrow. “Is everything all right?”
“Who’s your packmate?” he asks without answering my question.
“Marcus Harper,” Charlotte offers.
He leans out into the hall again, his voice muffled by the music. “You got a Harper out there?”
There’s a reply that’s drowned out by the noise. The man looks back at us and then ushers us through the doors.
There’s policeeverywhere, it seems. Thirty or so people, most with red pins, stand around the entrance area. Nearly all of them are in conversation with a police officer, various looks of worry tightening their faces. A couple people with no pin at all stand off to the side, leaning uneasily against one wall, clearly shaken by whatever’s happened. Their gazes dart around the room, and one chews on her lower lip.
Even with how lackluster of a night it’s been, I have to tamp down the urge to cross the space and ease their discomfort. They probably wouldn’t appreciate a random Alpha approaching them right now, anyway.
Charlotte drags me to the other side of the room, her worry evident in the tight grip she keeps on my elbow. It’s hard enough it’ll probably bruise, and any other night I’d force her to let go. Tonight, though, I bite my tongue and force my attention away from the Omegas.
What in the hell happened out here?
“Marcus?” Charlotte asks when we’re a couple feet away from him.
His scent permeates the area, rich and sour with his rage. When he turns toward us, that anger is evident in his eyes, too, burning so bright it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His jaw whitens with the force of him clenching it. The police officer that stands beside him raises an eyebrow as we close the distance before tucking a small notebook into his pocket.
“As I said, Mr. Harper, you’re free to go,” he says, though his eyes are on me.
Marcus stiffens, and a growl builds in his throat. Whatever’s happened has him on the fucking edge right now, and the last thing anyone needs is an Alpha losing their cool at one of these galas. If we get banned from attending, it’ll make it nearly impossible to find an Omega that we’ll all mesh well with.
The officer scowls and turns his attention back to Marcus. He feels vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. God knows I see too many of them in the ER to keep track of them all. I offer a polite half-smile and quickly guide Marcus away.
“What happened?” Charlotte asks, looping her elbow with his the way she’d done with me.
The sour edge to his scent intensifies until we get out the main doors and onto the busy New York sidewalk. Wordlessly, Charlotte flags down a taxi, still keeping a tight hold on Marcus.
He’s silent as he lets us herd him into the car and give the driver our address in SoHo. I inwardly flinch at just how much the fare is going to be, but there’s no way we can get Marcus onto the subway if he’s this wound up. It takes several blocks for him to calm down enough that I’m less worried about him completely freaking out.
When he takes a deep breath and his shoulders drop, the worry leaves me completely. At least until he looks from Charlotte to me.
His voice is hoarse and full of disbelief as he whispers, “He was there.”
Five
COLE
“Mr. Fallon?”
The nurse is quiet, her footsteps light enough I can’t accurately place her in the room. I don’t bother to open my eyes. If they need to give me something, she won’t let me just lay here, so there’s no reason to track her around the space.
I’ve spent enough time in hospitals to resent every single facet of them. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor, the periodic tightening of the blood pressure cuff, the grating of the metal curtain holder every time someone comes in and out of the sterile, no-frills room. Even the mechanical whir of the hand sanitizer that signals an employee is about to touch me. It’s a sensory nightmare, and I hate all of it, especially tonight. Or this morning, I guess, since it’s been hours since the paramedics brought me in, cutting off my suit and sending me off for rounds of tests. It was after midnight by the time the doctor was finally able to set my nose after confirming the asshole hadn’t broken anything else. At this rate, they’ll have to contact my doctor backin Seattle so they can give me the treatment cocktail I take every morning.
The pain meds, at least, are still working, so the throbbing headache is gone for the moment. Small mercies.
“Cole?” Dad’s voice this time.
That has me opening my eyes and cautiously rolling onto my back. The nurse quickly moves all the cords around so I don’t mess any of them up. The room swims for a minute, and bile burns the back of my throat. I can’t help but groan.
“Do you want something for the nausea?” the nurse asks in her quiet voice.
Dad’s woody scent fills the room between one moment and the next, soured by his rage. I swallow down the burning and mumble a “no.”
