“Does Cale know which of us is the Argent?”
Colby bit his lip. This was evidently a crucial question, and he didn’t know the answer. Not for sure.
“I don’t think so,” he said cautiously. “Nico wanted to question Tristan about that, which meanshedoesn’t know. It’s possible Cale does and kept it to himself, but…”
“But?” Urban prompted.
“So far as I know, Cale shared everything with Nico. But then, that’s probably what he’d want Nico to think—doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”
Urban was looking at him assessingly. “True,” he agreed, and it sounded like approval for some reason. “And did Nico share everything with you, do you think?”
Colby frowned as he thought back. “Not all the operational stuff. I think opsec was too ingrained in him for that. But the rest of it—yeah. No different to telling your dog, is it?”
He froze once the words were out. He should never have said something so disrespectful about Nico. Should never have relaxed even an iota around Urban. “Sorry,” he added swiftly.
Urban’s eyes were keen on his, though Colby didn’t know what he was seeing.
“Stay here. I’m going to brief the pack about the fact you’ll be here a while and the reason why, and I don’t want you wandering around until everyone knows,” Urban said. “If I come across Tristan, I’ll send him your way.”
For just an instant, warmth flickered in Urban’s eyes, gone almost before Colby could register it. He wasn’t sure what it meant, only that it left something steadying in its wake. Then Urban left, closing the door behind him.
But this time, the room didn’t feel like a cell. Colby sat obediently in a chair and waited for Tristan.
* * *
There was a brief sharp knock at the door before Karl opened it.
“You’re good to go,” he said simply. “Kitchen’s quiet now. There’s food if you want it.”
He didn’t say ‘You’re free,’ and Colby didn’t ask. He stood, stretched out the stiffness from the remnants of bruising over his ribs, and headed for the kitchen.
Urban was standing by the counter, pouring himself a coffee.
“There’s fresh in the pot,” Urban said without turning around. “Grab one before Jesse gets there. He pretends like he hardly drinks it, but I swear he can smell it from a mile off.”
Colby had just reached for a mug when footsteps pounded down the hallway. Tristan barreled into the kitchen like he’d been running full tilt, and stopped dead.
“You’re here,” he said, breath catching. “You weren’t in the barn, and I didn’t know where you were.”
And then he was across the kitchen and in Colby’s arms, clinging tight, his head buried into Colby’s shoulder. His whole body was rigid with tension, as if the moment he let go, something would break.
Colby held him without hesitation, without thought. Tristanneededhim. “What’s wrong?” he asked urgently, low-voiced against Tristan’s hair. “What happened?”
“Bryce,” Tristan said, his voice shaking slightly. “He’s being a total dick and he won’t even listen. He thinks—I don’t know what he thinks. But he’s wrong.”
Urban stepped away from the counter. “Tristan.” His voice was quiet but compelling, and Tristan turned his head to look at him. “He barely held it together when you were gone.”
“But I’m back now.”
“Yes, you are.” Urban met his gaze. “And no sooner are you home than you’re asking him to let go of you all over again. To trust your safety to someone he sees as a threat.”
“Colby’s not a threat.” The words sounded torn out of Tristan, upset and angry.
“No,” Urban said. “I don’t think he is either. But Bryce is a mother hen whose only chick just catapulted itself out of the nest with no warning. You have to give him time to adjust. Give him the understanding he’s always given you.”
Colby felt Tristan’s arms loosen slightly around him, and then he stepped back, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”
Urban took a sip of his coffee. “You’re allowed to be upset,” he said. “But don’t forget how much he loves you.”
