Colby had fallen swiftly and deeply in love, and the intensity of their relationship had been security and safety in a world that didn’t make sense any longer.
When Nico had brought Colby to his pack, that too had been everything Colby wanted. It had been somewhere he could belong after the Army had chewed him up and spat him out, leaving him confused and lost.
Even when Colby had made mistakes, Nico had forgiven him. He’d sit beside Colby, all patience and care, stroking his hair and explaining that discipline was necessary because Colby couldn’t seem to get it right on his own. It was just that Colby was stupid sometimes. Nico said it like it was a fact. Like Colby should already know.
The harder he tried to get things right, the more he got them wrong because—as Nico said when Colby had pushed him to the limit once too often—he was just that fucking stupid.
And then he’d wipe the blood from Colby’s face and press a kiss to his lips, because he knew Colby didn’t mean to be stupid, and he loved him despite it.
Three long years later, things were different. At least, that’s what Colby told himself. He told himself Nico had changed. The pack had slid deeper into criminality, their fights meaner, their jobs dirtier, and Nico had gotten sharper-edged with every day that passed.
It was easier to believe that there’d been a line once, and they’d only crossed it later. But sometimes, when Colby let himself remember, he wondered if maybe nothing had changed at all. If Nico hadn’t changed at all, and Colby had just stopped making excuses.
It had become harder to ignore the violence of the pack as they stole from people, and harder to keep loving Nico. Until one day, he’d realized there wasn’t anything left. No loyalty. Not even hate. Just a kind of quiet, aching nothing.
But even that didn’t matter, because Nico was never going to let him go. Sometimes Colby wondered if that was what Nico loved most—not Colby, but the fact that he washis. The only thing Nico had that no one else could take.
“You know you’re all I care about, sweetheart.” His voice was quiet, soft, caring. “The only thing I’ve got left.”
Nico’s fingers drifted down Colby’s side, gentle over the bruises. Too gentle. Colby stayed still, kept his breathing slow, because he’d learned that softness was just the pause before the pain. Nico didn’t know how to be open without punishing someone for it later. He didn’t know when Nico had learned that love was pain, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because there was no changing anything.
Nico traced one last line over Colby’s cheek before flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling.
“Cale’s back tomorrow.”
Colby nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack.
“They were all supposed to be at Urban’s ranch,” Nico muttered. “Don’t know what the hell that pup was doing wandering around.”
Even Nico was scared of something. Not that Colby blamed him in the least—Cale was terrifying. He took whatever he wanted, and the more people who got hurt in the process, the more he enjoyed it. Since Urban had beaten him in that fight, he’d becomeeven more vicious. The fact that Urban’s claws had cost him an eye might have had something to do with it.
“I don’t know what the fuck that whelp’s doing in Urban’s pack to start with,” Nico said, rolling over again and looking at Colby, a puzzled crease between his eyes. “He’s too soft to be any use. Maybe Urban just likes them young.”
Colby lowered his eyes, seeking to hide the emotion that flashed through him at the thought of anyone viewing Tristan like that. God, he hoped Urban saw in Tristan all the things Nico couldn’t. That it wasn’t just about age or looks or some idea of ownership. That someone, somewhere, saw him and thought of good things.
And then the thought came to him, sharp and dangerous. What if he could get Tristan out?
He knew better than to suggest anything. Knew it. But still the words slipped out because the thought of Tristan—bright, brave Tristan—at Cale’s mercy...
“If Urban’s into him,” he said carefully, because some days talking to Nico was allowed and some days it wasn’t, “maybe we could trade him for the silver wolf?”
That would get Tristan safely back where he belonged. It would also make sure Cale wasn’t pissed at Nico for snatching Tristan in the first place, which would save Colby from a world of hurt, too.
Nico’s bark of laughter made him flinch. “God, it’s just as well you’re pretty, Colby, because you really are a dumb shit,” he said, his hand tangling in Colby’s hair and tugging, bringing his face up so he was looking into Nico’s scornful eyes. “You think any piece of ass is going to measure up to what the only Argent in the world could do for Urban? He’s not going to trade that for anything.”
He leaned in and kissed Colby, his tongue mapping his mouth with the casual assurance of ownership. Then he got up anddragged on his jeans. “I sent two of the boys a couple of towns over for beer and pizza,” he said. “The pizza’s going to be cold but it’s got to be better than that fucking stew. You come and find me when they get back with it.”
As Nico left the room, Colby lay on the sleeping bags, every bruise alive and pulsing. He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before sitting up, slowly. If there was pizza left over, maybe he could get some to Tristan. It would be just food, nothing more. But at least it would be something.
TRISTAN
As the day crawled past, Tristan got colder and colder, until the chill settled into his bones. He’d stood by the window as long as he could, clinging to the futile hope that his scent might drift twenty miles in a straight line and lead his pack to him.
He ended up crouched in the corner, folded over, trying to keep warm. It wasn’t only the physical temperature that chilled him, but the fear that had taken hold deep inside.
He couldn’t see any way out of this, because nothing he’d tried had worked. He’d pulled at the boards over the window and pried at the floorboards, because if he could just get a piece of wood, then he’d have a weapon. All that did was give him sore fingers.
Throwing himself against the door in the hope it might dislodge the bolt hadn’t worked. It had merely left him bruised and breathless.
