He doesn't look convinced, but his hand stays on my shoulder until I'm steady, and even then he doesn't move away.
I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. "Seriously, I'll be okay. Ireallyneed to shower before I think about anything else. Including what the hell I'm going to do now that you've definitely discovered my hideout."
He sighs and nods.
"Can I ask you for another favor?" I ask hesitantly.
Wraith tilts his head, waiting.
"There's an abandoned shower room down the hall. Would you mind keeping an eye out? Just to make sure no one comes in? I know it's weird to ask, and you've already done way too much, but?—"
He cuts me off with a firm nod and a reassuring rumble.
Message received.
He's got my back.
"Thank you, Wraith."
He makes a soft sound—almost embarrassed, like he's surprised I know who he is even though he's one of the most recognizable alphas in the NHL—and waves his hand dismissively. Like this is no big deal. Like everyone goes around taking care of sick strangers and standing guard while they shower.
I grab a change of clothes from my stash and the least disgusting towel I have. It's one I lifted from the equipment room a few weeks ago, still smells like industrial detergent. Not exactly luxury, but it's clean.
Wraith watches me gather my things, his expression unreadable for once above the mask. When I'm ready, he moves to the door and glances out into the hallway. After a moment, he nods and gestures for me to follow.
We make our way down the corridor, Wraith moving silently despite his size. He keeps himself positioned between me and any potential threat, his head constantly moving as he scans our surroundings. The protective instinct radiating off him is completely unnecessary, considering it's being discovered that's a threat, not me being literally eaten alive by a tired janitor.
The abandoned shower room is tucked away in a forgotten corner of the arena's underbelly. The door hangs slightly crooked on its hinges, and the inside is... well, it's seen better days. Cracked tile, rust stains, flickering lights that barely work and make the whole place look like a horror set. But the water runs hot and there's soap, and right now that's all I need.
Wraith checks inside first, making sure it's clear. Then he positions himself outside the door, his massive frame blocking the entrance. Anyone wanting to get in would have to go through him first.
Good fucking luck with that.
"I'll be quick," I tell him.
He makes a negative sound and gestures for me to take my time. Then he settles against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Standing guard.
For me.
A complete fucking stranger.
My chest does this weird tight thing that I refuse to examine too closely. Instead, I duck into the shower room and close the door most of the way. I leave it cracked just enough to hear if something goes wrong, even though I doubt anyone's stupid enough to fuck with Wraith.
The shower takes a minute to heat up, pipes groaning and clanking before hot water finally sputters out. I strip off my disgusting clothes and step under the spray, hissing as the heat hits my sensitive skin.
Butgods, it feels amazing.
I let the water wash away the sweat and sickness, standing there until my muscles start to unknot. The cheap soap doesn't smell like much, but it's clean and that's what matters. I scrub at my skin until it's pink, washing my hair twice just to make sure I get all the gross out.
As I stand there under the spray and enjoy myself for a few minutes, my mind finally starts to catch up with everything that's happened. With the fact that one of the Ghosts' core alphas knows I've been living under the arena. An alpha I cuddled all night because I was sick and exhausted and desperate for comfort.
An alpha who's currently standing outside like a guard dog.
An alpha whose scent makes me feel…
Fuck.
So much for keeping everyone at a safe distance.
