Tom nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak again.
The drive was short, but it felt endless. Jason didn’t say anything, for which Tom was grateful. He kept his gaze fixed out the window, watching trees blur, each mile taking him farther from Bryce. From that bed, still warm. From the way Bryce had looked at him—and then looked away.
Jason kept glancing over at him, clearly wrestling with something. By the time they pulled into the hotel lot, he couldn’t hold it in.
“Bryce is the heart of our pack. He always cares about everyone,” he said, his words rushed and challenging. “So if you’ve done something or said something—”
Fury burned in Tom as he shoved the door open and got out. “It’s notmeyou should be having that conversation with,” he said.
He didn’t slam the door. He wasn’t seventeen. But he did close it with firm finality and walked away without looking back.
He ignored the receptionist’s cheery good morning in the empty lobby, took the stairs two at a time, and swiped into his room without breathing. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a sterile, quiet space. His jacket went onto the chair. His necktie followed. And then he just stood there.
He could still feel the imprint of Bryce’s body behind his, the warmth of his breath. Bryce’s voice, low and warm, saying his name like it meant something. As if it always would. The way his wolf had gone still in absolute contentment. It had been a kind of peace he hadn’t even known to dream of.
He sat on the edge of the bed. Stared at the blank TV screen, but scarcely saw it. The truth looped in his head, quiet and inescapable—we’re mates.
That should have been everything. It should have changed the world. Instead, Bryce had looked at him like it was a death sentence.
Tom braced his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands tightly together, and bent his head until it touched his thumbs. He sat there like that for a long time. Breathing. Not thinking. Trying not to break.
But it was already too late.
Chapter Nineteen
BRYCE
At some point he’d shifted. It made the noise in his head fade—nothing but instinct, and earth beneath his paws. Even if his wolf was whining softly in protest the entire time.
He skirted the perimeter, keeping an eye on the guards Jax had placed around their territory. One of them moved too close and Bryce snarled. The guy backed off fast, muttering into his comms. Disappointing. Bryce had wanted a fight. He needed a burn in his muscles to distract from the one in his chest.
Eventually, he looped back to where he’d left his clothes. He had a job to do.
Back at the house, he paused outside the back door, hearing signs of life inside the house—coffee brewing, Jesse’s low drawl, the clatter of breakfast. Normally, he’d be in the thick of it, the heart and soul of the chaos. But not this morning.
He slipped around the house and silently let himself in through the front door, heading to his room where he sank down onto the edge of his bed.
The same bed where Tom had smiled up at him. Where he’d looked at Bryce with warmth and wonder and joy. Which Bryce had ripped away, leaving those eyes dark and bereft.
His fingers curled into the mattress. He’d done the right thing. That was the refrain playing on repeat. He’d done the right thing, been quick, clean, and definitive. It was the kindest way.
Tom would get over it. Because he wasn’t really in love with Bryce, he was reacting to astory. To biology and myth and the idea that a mate would make everything okay. He didn’t loveBryce. He loved the concept of a mate.
Bryce’s wolf growled low. He ignored it as he shoved off the bed and strode to the door. Time to pull himself together. Matt needed backup. He didn’t know if Tom would be at this meeting or not, but it made no difference. He’d do this the way he did everything—with a smile and a bad joke. Good old Bryce, reliable, loyal, who never let anything get too deep.
He opened his door to find Matt passing, on his way to the living room.
“You’re up,” Matt said. He didn’t sound surprised, but there was something cautious in his tone. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Bryce said automatically.
Matt didn’t call him on it. But he did give him a long look.
“Karl’s been watching their security detail,” he said. “He’s convinced these guys have the training and ability to have taken out Cale’s pack. And Dave called in. He’s been showing that photo of Jax around, the one that Tristan took when he was supposedly scrolling on his phone, and he’s got a hit. Someone remembers him asking questions about a hidden pack around the same time Jesse’s was wiped out.”
“From that long ago?” Bryce asked, seizing the lifeline of something to concentrate upon. “Someone really remembers Jax that clearly?”
“This was someone who spent time with him,” Matt said. “We just need him to testify.”
