“You want a blueberry muffin?” Bryce asked as he passed one over. “Turns out Jason goes on a baking kick when he’s worried.”
Tristan took a bite without thinking and startled at the burst of sweetness, like his body had forgotten what kindness tasted like.Swallowing, he was about to ask why Jason was worried, and then he saw the lines in Bryce’s face, the dark shadows under his eyes, and the same strain in Matt’s tired face. God, they must have been stressed beyond belief, trying to find him. His indignation faded. Of course they wouldn’t know any better until he’d explained everything.
He’d just need to make sure they understood what had happened, that Colbywasn’tthe threat they thought he was. Although…
Something cold trickled through his gut. Matt and Bryce led this pack and kept them all safe. He trusted them completely in their roles of alpha and beta. Always had, always would. And they were worried by Colby’s presence, that had been clear from what he’d heard.
Tristan sat silently, thinking hard as Bryce started cooking bacon and pancakes. Colby had come to him, offering him kindness he’d gotten from no one else. Softening him up, now Tristan came to think about it. Then out of nowhere, too good to be true, he released him. He’d taken Tristan straight back to Matt’s pack. He’d gotten Tristan to trust him—and maybe that trust was exactly what Cale’s pack had wanted. To get someone on the inside.
Oh God. What if Colby was playing him? What if this whole thing was some awful long game, and Tristan had just walked him into the heart of their territory like a trusting, naivenumbskull?
What if Bryce and Matt never trusted Tristan again? Panic of a different sort thrummed through him, sharp and breathless.
Matt’s hand landed firmly on his shoulder, stopping him from spiraling so hard he thought he might crash. “Breathe,” he said, and there it was—that indefinablealphaweight. Tristan could no more disobey it than he could fly.
He took a deep breath, then another, his pulse slowly evening out. As it did, his brain clicked back into gear. Nico had said theywanted to question him. Why hadn’t they questioned himbeforeletting Colby pretend to escape with him? And Tristan hadn’t known he was going to ask Colby to come with him until the words were out of his mouth, so it wasn’t like that outcome had been an obvious possibility.
And then he remembered what had caused him to ask Colby—those eyes, so sad and hopeless—and he finally relaxed, his shoulder no longer rigid under Matt’s anchoring grip.
Colby wasn’t trying to trick them. Tristan had no idea how he could have been part of Cale’s pack, but he knew that Colby was a good man. How many others would have brought Tristan all the way home instead of abandoning Tristan when he slowed and put them both in danger? And the way he’d comforted him when he’d felt so ill and weak. That gentle, supportive brush of his muzzle had given Tristan the strength to go on.
He shivered at the memory of those howls on their heels.
“He saved my life, twice over,” he said firmly and quietly.
Matt dragged out a chair and sat opposite him. “Go on.”
In a voice that wobbled at times, Tristan told them everything—about being taken, about being left alone in the dark, about Nico hitting him. How Colby had come like the answer to a prayer, how he’d been going to let Tristan escape alone. And then he’d stuck close the whole way home, making sure Tristan reached safety.
When he reached the end of his account, Matt pushed up from his chair without a word and headed for the back door. Tristan watched him go, knowing he was going to see Colby. And he didn’t know if he’d said enough, if Matt evenbelievedhim.
He started as Bryce put a full plate down in front of him.
“You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten,” he said, and he pressed a kiss to the top of Tristan’s head.
Tristan’s eyes filled, and he nodded, unable to speak.
He was safe. He was home.
COLBY
The wolves that had brought him to the barn had vanished, after locking him in an empty horse stall. Except for one—big, dark, and relentless—who kept prowling the perimeter, his presence a constant threat. Every few passes, Colby caught the edge of a growl, long and low.
No one had ordered him to shift back to human, and he felt somehow safer like this. Less exposed. He stood in the center of the stall, paws planted firmly, refusing to pace and betray his nerves. He could endure this. It was little different to the hours he’d spent locked in the brig, steeped in the fear that filled that place and with no knowledge of what his punishment would be, only that it would bebad.
The difference was, this time, he knew the endgame. He was a member of Cale’s pack. That was enough to decide his fate. They must have kept him alive this long for questioning.
The minutes dragged. Could have been hours, but that was part of the game, too. Make him wait, until he unraveled all by himself. That wasn’t going to happen. What none of them realized was that, when Urban killed him, it wouldn’t be punishment—it would be freedom. Finally, he’d be somewhere Nico couldn’t reach him.
This stall was different from the brig, with no stench of old fear soaked into the walls. There were just the scents of hay, horse, and leather.
As he waited, holding himself completely still, he became aware of his exhaustion—too many bruises, and the aftereffect of their wild chase. Or maybe it was a different sort of exhaustion. Hewas tired of being afraid, of second-guessing every word and every move.
When the barn door creaked open and footsteps approached, Colby urged himself to remain motionless. He mustn’t give anything away. Nico had always hated his fear. Except for when he hadn’t. And Colby had never known which it would be, so he’d learned to lock everything away and show nothing.
A low command, too low to catch, and the wolf outside the door let out a growl before falling silent.
The stall door opened. The blond shifter who stood there seemed to steal the air from the room with his power. It was tightly leashed and all the more dangerous for it. This had to be Matt Urban.
