A rushing sound filled Steve’s head. His heart was pounding, beating so fast that it hurt, and he could taste copper in the back of his mouth.
“Is Dylan okay?” Ryker demanded, rushing up the stairs and standing next to Steve. “Where is he?”
“Our father bit him, but that was as far as he got before Dylan stabbed him.” Marcus’s voice was wooden. “He’s in Steve’s apartment, in the bedroom. He’s okay.”
“So he didn’t…?” Steve couldn’t bring himself to ask the question, but Marcus knew what he was asking and shook his head.
“No. He was going to, but Dylan killed him first.” Marcus closed his eyes. “I’m going to make it look like he died from an accident. Mom offered to take the blame, but I don’t want anyone to know that Dylan had anything to do with his death, even as a victim. Unless you object?”
Marcus looked at Ryker for his opinion.
“I don’t,” Ryker said. “But we’re taking him home tonight.”
“Tomorrow,” Marcus countered. “You need to be here for the funeral or people will get suspicious. We’ll hold it in the morning. Since the district alphas are here already, we don’t have to wait.”
Ryker grit his teeth, but after a second he gave a sharp nod.
“We’re staying at the hotel tonight. I’m not letting Dylan sleep in this house.”
Marcus nodded.
Steve was still reeling, refusing to believe that what Marcus was saying could be true. Dylan was his omega. How could his father even think about doing something so horrible? And what kind of person wanted to share an omega with their son?
It was disgusting on every level.
“There has to be some sort of misunderstanding!” Steve mumbled, the taste of copper in his mouth growing stronger. “Dad wouldn’t-”
“He gave Dylan a claiming bite while he was in his alpha shift,” Marcus interrupted. “There’s no denying what he was trying to do.”
Ryker and August both growled, and Steve suddenly felt very small. He tried to think of a reason his dad would give Dylan a claiming bite, but there was nothing that would necessitate or justify something like that.
He bent over and vomited.
August put his hand on his back, and Steve recoiled. He didn’t deserve comfort.
“This isn’t your fault,” August said, his voice clipped and hard. “We don’t blame you. This is not on you.”
Unsaid was the fact that he blamed Marcus. Steve wanted to protest that that was unfair – that no one could have predicted that their dad would lose his shit like this – but he stayed silent.
He didn’t know what he could say.
“I’ll deal with things here,” Marcus said, looking at Ryker. “You three can take Steve’s car and take Dylan back to the hotel. Only you and Steve need to be here for the funeral tomorrow.”
“Let’s go get him,” August said, brushing past Marcus and moving toward the door. He turned to Ryker. “Are you coming?”
He sounded furious and impatient, and Steve wished he could curl up into a little ball and disappear.
Ryker nodded, his body tense with pent up rage. He looked like he wanted to kill someone, but instead what he did was reach over and squeeze Steve’s arm. “Do you need a moment?”
Steve shook his head, even though it was a lie.
“Maybe I should just go get the car and-”
“He wants all three of you,” Marcus interrupted. “And if you don’t go to him now, he’ll think you’re angry with him for killing Dad.”
Steve gaped, the words making no sense. In what universe would Steve be angry atDylanafter what his father had tried to do.
“He killed your dad,” Marcus said, his voice direct. “It doesn’t matter what Dad was trying to do, Dylan is the one who walked out of their altercation alive. You need to let him know that he did the right thing and that you don’t blame him for protecting himself.”
