Fitz crosses his arms and tosses back his head like a proud stallion. Little shit. Alpha is conceding, the least Fitz could do is to be graceful about it and accept the compromise.
Callum snarls, grabs Fitz’s shoulder and shoves him roughly to his knees. The omega gives a little yelp as he hits the floor under the alpha’s brute force.
A deep, threatening growl reverberates around the workshop. Callum stares at me in shocked outrage. Shit. The growl came from me. I give my Alpha an apologetic look and a shrug. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Alpha’s eyes narrow and he says nothing, but I know the matter isn’t dropped. He is just going to deal with it later. I swallow again.
“Hold him down.”
I do as I’m told and try to figure out what my problem is. It must be because I knotted Fitz and saw him through his heat last night, I tell myself. My hormones and instincts are all over the place, thinking I should protect the omega who submitted to me. That’s all it is.
My wolf doesn’t understand that the omega commits lethal hate crimes. He is not something to be cherished and adored. He is a dangerous threat. An enemy.
Fitz struggles underneath my grip. He may be fast and ruthless and skilled at killing, but his strength is no match for my own. It’s not even a challenge to hold him in place, with his head on the anvil.
Callum picks up a giant pair of bolt croppers. With two deft snaps, the collar falls to the ground in two pieces. I release Fitz and he darts up and away from us, his hand rubbing at his neck, where the collar used to sit. His skin is deeply scarred in a grotesque mirror image of the collar. Who on earth would do such a thing to himself? The boy has serious problems.
Gingerly I pick up one of the pieces of the collar. There is indeed a thin band of silver inside it. I shudder. There is no trace of magic or any runes. It’s just a mundane, ugly device. I have no idea if it would physically suppress his wolf or not, but it could be symbolic or psychosomatic.
Raising my gaze to Callum, I shake my head. Indicating that there is no magic and I don’t know what the fuck it is. Alpha nods his understanding at me.
“Do something with him, we need to talk.”
We certainly do. And not only about me growling at my Alpha. A possibly more pressing problem is, what the hell are we going to do with a violent omega who wants to kill us all?
I take Fitz back to the pack house. He stomps along in front of me but doesn’t try anything. It’s past noon and I haven’t fed him yet. My own stomach grumbles at me, but I can wait. Guiding Fitz to the kitchen goes smoothly, but he balks at the doorway. Sarah is bustling around as usual, and Greg and Dave are sitting at the table, chatting over mugs of coffee.
There is nothing alarming at all. I don’t know what Fitz’s problem is. I’m all out of patience, so I manhandle him into a chair. The others give me a curious look but thankfully keep their questions to themselves.
“You hungry, Sweetie?” Sarah asks Fitz.
Her kindness reminds me that they all think I’ve chosen him and they are probably dying to meet him, thinking he is going to be our newest pack member. The thought makes my guts twist uncomfortably. I can’t even begin to untangle how I feel about that.
Fitz doesn’t answer her. He just stares at Sarah like she is an alien from out of space. He is so fucking rude.
“Fitz would love some lunch,” I say.
Sarah beams at me and gives Fitz a bowl of beef stew. It smells delicious. My stomach rumbles again.
“You want some?” she chuckles. Her warm brown eyes glowing with amusement.
“Later,” I tell her with a fond smile.
Fitz is staring at his food without moving. If he flings it in a fit, so help me. Sarah is absolutely lovely and a fantastic cook. She doesn’t deserve any nonsense. Not from anyone.
“Eat!” I bark at Fitz.
He shoots me a truly baleful look before sticking his head into the bowl and slurping it up noisily, like a dog. Like he doesn’t know what a spoon is for. He laps it up hurriedly. He looks ravenous. I’ve never seen anyone wolf food down so desperately. Guilt snakes through me. I probably should have fed him yesterday or at least as soon as we woke up today.
But is he really that hungry or is he just being an ass? Is he being rude or does he really not know how to use a spoon? It’s all so bewildering.
My gaze meets Sarah’s. Her eyes are wide with horror and pity. She is kindhearted enough to assume he doesn’t know how to behave. It would never cross her mind that he is choosing not to, in a petty, bratty act of defiance.
Suddenly, I feel very, very tired. Alpha needs to talk to me. I don’t feel capable of dealing with Fitz right now. Everything about him makes me so confused. I take the handcuffs out of my pocket and cuff one of his hands to the table leg. Sarah lets out a tiny gasp, but Fitz doesn’t stop his gross eating to pay me any attention. I guess it’s not like he was using his hands anyway.
“I need to talk to Alpha, can you keep an eye on Fitz?” I ask Sarah.
She nods silently, her eyes growing even bigger. She will be nice to him and mother him. Maybe it will do the little shit some good. With one last look at Fitz, I turn and leave. But it feels like I’m running away.
