I just stare at him, waiting for him to say whatever bullshit he wants to say.
I don’t trust any of the trainers. Like hell am I going to start today with the baby of the Mercer family.
“I, uh, I wanted to introduce myself,” he says, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “My name’s Rowan. I know I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you yesterday when I came in all freaked out about what happened to Mirabelle.”
I raise an expectant brow.
Seriously? That’s all he wanted to say to me?
“You know what happened to Mirabelle was your fucking fault, right?” I growl, my voice low.
He flinches back as if I just hit him.
Pathetic. If he can’t even stand and take my words like a man, he’d never survive an actual hit.
“That fuckhead brother of yours has such a hard-on for control, and you doing whatever the hell you’re doing here is pissing him off enough to torture her,” I continue.
“Hey!” Mirabelle says, stepping between the scrawny kid and I.
She has her hands on her hips.
I almost let out a snort of laughter when I see she’s left the plate of pancakes in Griffin’s hands. He’s eating one now, his narrowed gaze darting between the three of us.
“This doesn’t have to do with you, Shortcake,” I say.
“But it does! You’re blaming what happened to me on Rowan. That’s not right!”
“You were strung up from the ceiling. Your clothes were cut off your body, and that motherfucker wastouching you.”
Mirabelle’s expression twists, her cheeks flushing with her frustration.
I likethe sight of it.
I want to get her riled up more often, see how bright I can make those eyes pop. See how red I can make her cheeks.
“Yeah! That’s whatJettdid to me. Not Rowan. Look at him!” She says, gesturing over his shoulder. “He got beaten up because he tried to stop Jett.”
That comment from the little omega doesn’t seem to sit well with the scrawny kid because his chin falls to his chest, dropping with shame.
Guess the kid is aware he’s no match for an alpha like Jett. Or any alpha, really. It seems to bother him.
“I mean, do you have any ideas for what to do, Ash?” Griffin asks, casually leaning up against the bars of his stable door.
I narrow my eyes at him. He’s deceptively casual, but I can see the fury thrumming underneath his skin. His gaze keeps darting to the little omega like he’s trying to see through her clothes to make sure she’s okay.
“I think we can all agree we want to avoid situations where Mirabelle here gets assaulted,” Griffin continues.
His question stops me in my tracks. My hands clench into fists, and I can feel my pulse throbbing at my temple.
Fuck him.
His stupid fucking question just reminds me of my helplessness in this situation.
The scrawny kid is the only one with any shot of keeping Mirabelle safe. He’s probably the least qualified person to do so.
“Rowan is nice,” Mirabelle says, her hands dropping from her hips, her gaze far too assessing for my liking. “He won’t hurt me.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about,” I grumble. That’s not completely the truth. I’m sure the beta won’t do anything to hurt Mirabelle, but he also gets to spend a hell of a lot longer with her than me, and I don’t fucking like that.
