“Well, you look like shit,” I said in greeting as Lynn slunk into the tech room—which was rapidly becoming the game room—in an oversized hoodie and black pyjama pants. They had cartoon skulls all over them. Cute.
“So do you,” she muttered, dropping into the chair beside me and pulling her knees to her chest, dark circles around her bloodshot eyes and her mouth in a flat line.
“Aw, thanks,” I cooed. “You noticed.”
Her glare slid towards me, slowly, inch by inch. I smirked, even if her state made me want to offer to help. That never went over well with Lynn.
“I’ve got shit to do this morning,” I said, borderline apologetic. “But feel free to hang around if you want.”
She leaned her head against the padded chair, her hood pulled over her dark hair. “Cobra.”
“I’d rather fucking not,” I answered her unspoken question.
“I’ll owe you.”
“You already owe me, asshole.”
She made a throaty sound, her eyes heavy, exhausted. Did she sleep at all last night? And why the fuck didn’t she come to me? I knew I told her it was a one time thing, but we both knew I’d help if it got dire.
“You can cuddle me again,” she offered in that sweet tone she used to piss me off.
I extended my middle finger, put it right in her face. She snapped her teeth, a sharp clack that made me curious in a moment of insanity. What would her bite feel like? I hastily pulled my hand back.
“What do you want? Name your price.”
“Dangerous offer,” I pointed out, leaning over my keyboard as I got back to work. We’d got word of a group of betas led by an alpha acting suspicious as hell in an empty unit across the city. No sightings of a victim yet, but the chances of them running a small business out of the unit were about as likely as them having an omega stashed there. I was setting up surveillance through a small camera the witness had set up for us—all for compensation, of course. Members of the public loved bragging about doing the right thing, but their main incentive was money.
“Just tell me,” Lynn snapped, her temper sharper than usual, her voice less teasing and more fucked off.
I gave her a harsh look, aware my eyes had gone hard in the way that made people take a step back. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“So you’ve told me.”
“I don’t need a fucking price, Lynn. I’ll help you because it’s what friends do.”
“Great, now I’ve hurt your ego,” she muttered.
More than my ego, actually.Iwas hurt. “Just get fucking comfortable,” I sighed, biting back a hundred retorts.
Her eyes fixed on me, heavy and tired, as hot as a brand on my face. “Sorry.”
I shook my head, a tight pain in my chest at the soft rasp of her voice. Her sorrys were usually barbed or sarcastic, not raw. There was an emotion she was shielding, something that reminded me of fear but not quite. “You don’t need to be sorry, it’s fine.”
She made a throaty sound, shaking her head, her eyes dark and full of secrets. “The last thing I need is to lose the only friend who doesn’t make me want to cut my ears off to escape their nagging.”
I laughed softly, but the sound faded, a hollow cold seeping into my chest. Was that the emotion in her eyes, the reason her voice was so quiet and afraid? She thought I was gonna ditch her?
“Nah,” I said casually, as if my chest wasn’t tight. “There’s no losing me, Lynn. Not ever.”
I saw her hands curl into fists from the corner of my eye, watched her nod, and pretended not to understand she was fighting back tears. Was it the lack of sleep making her feel like this, or was this always under the surface, messing with her head? Making her think all her friends were temporary? Was she just waiting for us to kick her out of the compound?
“Sleep, Lynn,”I barked. My soft voice betrayed my feelings when I added, “I’ve got you.”
She was unconscious instantly, slumping against the chair, face mushed to the side of her hoodie. The fact that she didn’t know the peace she gave me with her presence alone was ridiculous. I couldn’t hide how much I liked spending time with her. How much I likedher.And that was fucking terrifying.
I’d come a long way from the sixteen-year-old who got involved with a gang running packages, who was damaged and vulnerable and easy to manipulate into prostitution two years later, but part of me was still that boy. Angry and small and alone. Part of me would always be in pain, but Lynn had become more than just a distraction from that pain. She’d become the antidote. It was a lot of power to hand to someone. It made me queasy.
That didn’t stop me brushing a strand of dark hair from her face while she slept. Didn’t stop me sneaking looks at her in between work all morning and well into the afternoon.
