“I’m fine,” he called.
“Your clothes are right next to the door. We’ll talk in the kitchen when you’re done.”
Dylan stepped out of the shower and dried off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door, crouching down to snatch the clothes that had been left there for him.
To his surprise, the t-shirt and sweatpants were in his size. He put them on and then spent a minute steeling himself to leave the bathroom. His heart was still racing, and the idea of leaving the relative safety of the warm, steamy bathroom filled him with dread.
Telling himself to man up, Dylan pushed open the door and walked out of the bathroom. The hallway was chilly compared to the warm bathroom, and Dylan shuddered. He folded his arms across his chest and walked back to the kitchen.
Marcus was in front of the fridge, standing with his back to Dylan as he bent over and looked for something on the bottom shelf. He’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and tank top, the soft cotton of the sweats pulling tight across his muscular butt cheeks, and showing off the underside of his bulge.
He was wearing woolen socks that looked like they had been hand-knitted.
“I have juice, if you’d like?” Marcus said, standing up and turning around. He held out a carton with a familiar logo.
“I’m good,” Dylan said. He stayed near the door, staring at Marcus’s fingers where they wrapped around the carton.
There was blood under his fingernails.
Marcus shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He lifted the jug to his mouth and proceeded to down the whole thing. When he was done, he let out a satisfied breath and wiped the back of his mouth. He put the carton down on the counter and turned to Dylan.
“Let’s call my little brother and figure this out.”
Dylan nodded, staying in place while Marcus took a seat at the small table next to the window. He watched as the alpha pulled out an iPhone and dialed a number. After holding the phone up to his ear, Marcus looked at Dylan and beckoned him over with a wave of his hand.
“Come sit,” he said, using his foot to nudge the chair across from him away from the table.
Dylan walked over, sitting down just as the call connected. Even though the phone wasn’t on speakerphone, he could hear Steve’s voice when he answered.
“Hello?”
A complicated expression settled on Marcus’s face.
“Hi, it’s me. Can you talk?”
Steve’s breath audibly hitched on the other end of the line. A second passed with no other reply, and Dylan could see Marcus opening his mouth to say something when Steve finally spoke.
“Hi.” Steve sounded wary, his voice rough. “Yes, of course. What’s up?”
Marcus snorted, meeting Dylan’s gaze and rolling his eyes. “What’s up? You’re funny. Do you have Sterling and Schaffer there with you?”
Steve sighed, and Dylan wished he could see him to see what kind of expression he was making.
“Yeah, they’re here. They’re pretty pissed.”
Dylan’s stomach warmed. He knew that Ryker and August would be working to get him back, and he was pleased to be proven right.
“We kidnapped their mate,” Marcus said, sardonic. “Of course they’re pissed.”
“What was Dad thinking?” Steve asked, the question bursting out of him in a rush. He sounded more confused than angry, like he genuinely didn’t understand.
“He’s thinking that he doesn’t want to risk you deciding that you like Sterling better than him,” Marcus said. “But don’t worry. We talked and he’s decided to let me handle it. Have they done anything stupid that might make this complicated for me?”
“What do you mean, you talked?” Steve asked, sounding rightfully suspicious.
“We talked,” Marcus repeated. “He admitted that he’s a little too emotional about you to think rationally, so he’s letting me take the lead on getting you back and fixing this mess with your omega.”
Dylan thought that describing what Marcus and John had done astalkingwas the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.
