Wyatt
“Um, this is it,” Amelia said with a hint of embarrassment in her voice. “Home sweet home.”
Her cheeks flooded with color and Wyatt felt for her.
He wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter to him where she lived, and that he was proud of her for doing so well after she’d left the clan without a single thing to her name, but he also didn’t want to say anything that might have given her false hope about what was happening between them. In the end, he settled for offering her what he hoped was an understanding smile.
He cut the engine to his truck and glanced out at the low-rise condo units that had undoubtedly seen better days. Amelia had been right. The buildingwasin a bad neighborhood. Arguably the worst in Miami. Wyatt and his SWAT team had been to the area on dozens of occasions to bust drug dealers and pick up bail skips.
For years, the area had been known as one of the main hangouts of The Vipers street gang. The gang had recently disbanded, thanks to the help of Kit’s mate, Liam Marshall, who had himself been a member of the gang. However, many of the ex-members still lived in the area and terrorized the streets. The idea that his mate had to live surrounded by some of the worst possible criminals because she didn’t have the means to find anything better caused an ache in Wyatt’s chest. He’d see her come back to this condo over his dead body.
“I’ve lived in worst places,” he lied.
“I doubt that, but thank you.”
Amelia smiled at him, warmth shining out of her big blue eyes, and he lost the ability to think straight. He got out before he said something he’d later regret, then scanned the area, hoping his truck would still be in one piece when they got back to it.
“I can do this alone, you know. You don’t have to come in with me,” Amelia said as she met Wyatt around the front of the truck.
“It’s fine. I want to help.”
He didn’t tell her that the thought of her being alone in this place, even for only ten or fifteen minutes, made his stomach lurch uncomfortably.
“Okay. Thank you.”
He followed her to the entrance of the building. She didn’t need to use a key because the lock on the door was busted so that anyone could walk in off the street. Wyatt’s dragon was incensed, screaming at Wyatt to let it out so that it could protect its mate. Wyatt took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down. If he didn’t bring the beast to heel, he was afraid that it would try to force its way out.
It's okay, she’s not in any danger right now, he said in an effort to soothe it. His words had little effect so he would just have to try to keep calm because the more upset he was, the more his dragon would react negatively. That might have worked if every time he thought he had a handle on himself, he saw something that made it clear things were even worse than he thought. He settled for trying not to process anything he was seeing. He could seethe about it later. When they were far from here.
They bypassed the lift that had an out-of-order sign taped to the doors and headed up the stairs to the first floor. The acrid stench of urine lingered in the stairwell, tickling Wyatt’s nose. It faded slightly as they made their way down a long corridor, stopping outside a door on the right about halfway along.
“This is me,” she said, fishing a key out of her pocket before letting them inside the tiny space.
As Amelia went into the condo, Wyatt checked the security on the door and barely suppressed a groan at the useless lock and flimsy chain that were the only things preventing some low-life scum from barging his way in.
The condo was technically a one bedroom, though a quick glance through the door that led off the living room confirmed that the ‘bedroom’ wasn’t much bigger than a closet. The bed was small and pushed up against the wall. There was little room to walk around the other side of it. There was a bathroom to the left of the front door and a tiny kitchenette that took up half of the living room. The space was oppressive. Dragon shifters were a tall species. Amelia was much shorter than Wyatt, but she had to be close to six feet tall so even she had to feel claustrophobic in the space.
“Take a seat,” Amelia said. “I’ll be quick.”
“There’s no rush,” he said, even as his mind went to the perils of leaving his truck outside for any length of time.
It didn’t matter. It was only a hunk of metal and he had insurance. It was replaceable.
He sat on the old couch and stretched his long legs out in front of him then looked around the small space. Even though the furnishings were old, and the walls could have done with a coat of paint, every surface was spotless, and the fresh smell of lemon detergent hung in the air.
“How long have you been living here?” Wyatt asked as Amelia busied herself in the bedroom.
“Six months, but I don’t think I can stay here much longer. My landlord has put the rent up twice since I’ve been here and of course with no contract, there’s not a lot that I can do about it.”
A low growl left Wyatt’s throat and his hands shifted into claws, slicing straight through the thin leather of the couch’s armrest.Shit.He yanked his hand away and forced the claws back into fingers. It was all he could do not go in search of the asshole so that he could pummel him.
That settled it. She wasnevercoming back here. No way.
She came out of the bedroom with a small rucksack then went into the bathroom, only to come back out a moment later.
“I’m done.”
Wyatt frowned down at the tiny bag in her hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to bring more than that? We don’t know how long you might need to stay, and you don’t want to have to come back here multiple times.”
