Ember sighed through her nose. “Ignore them.”
“Kind of hard when they’re making it obvious.”
Her expression softened. “You’re wearing the President’s colors, Kellan. People… notice.”
“I know but?—”
I didn’t even know how to finish that, because she was right.
Before I could process it, an omega behind us murmured, just loud enough:
“Look at him. Didn’t take long.”
The words were soft, but the meaning could be heard ten counties away. It was meant to hit.
And it did.
My spine straightened. My chest tightened.
Rowan always said I had a smart mouth and a glass jaw…
Ember turned so fast I almost ran into her. She glared at the omega…he was a pretty one, all sharp cheekbones, smug confidence, and pretend innocence. But he couldn’t hide that smirk.
“That’s enough,” she snapped.
He lifted his hands in a mock surrender. “Wasn’t talking to him.”
“Yeah,” Ember said dryly, “and I was born yesterday.”
He rolled his eyes and turned around like he’d gotten bored.
I didn’t say anything. Not that I even had a comeback, but Ember had my back.
Which was weird. Unexpected. And… nice.
She nudged my arm. “C’mon. Ignore idiots.”
I swallowed, the weight of the cut settling heavier around my shoulders. “I’m trying,” I said quietly.
And I was.
Really.
But the truth hit me anyway:
I didn’t know if Lock’s cut was shielding me… or marking me. Either way, it felt like it mattered.
Ember didn’t treat me like a hostage.
For some reason my brain was stuck on this.
She didn’t rush me, didn’t order me around, didn’t act like I might bolt if she looked away for two seconds. She walked next to me like I belonged there… or at least like she expected me to.
Wishful thinking much?
Which was weird. And unsettling. And strangely reassuring all at once.
“Kitchen’s through here,” she said, pushing open a wide doorway.
