The food arrives. Rosie sets down plates piled high with burgers and fries, followed by two milkshakes in tall glasses topped with whipped cream. Jessica stares at the spread like she's never seen food before.
"Eat," I say.
"I don't think I can eat all this."
"Then eat what you can. But you need something in your stomach besides whatever you've been surviving on for the past two days."
"Peanut butter," she admits. "Straight from the jar."
"That's not food."
"It has protein."
"Eat."
She picks up a fry. Takes a tentative bite. Her eyes flutter closed, and her scent blooms. Sweetens. The satisfied hum of an omega being fed.
"Oh my God," she breathes. "These are incredible."
"Rosie uses duck fat."
"I don't care if she uses jet fuel." Jessica grabs another fry, then another, shoveling them into her mouth with the kind of enthusiasm I've never seen from her before. She always ate so carefully around Callum. Small bites. Controlled portions. Like she was afraid of taking up too much space.
Now she's devouring fries like they're the last food on earth, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Her scent is pure contentment now. Happy omega. Safe. Fed. Protected.
My alpha purrs.
"This burger," she mumbles around a mouthful, "is life-changing."
"Rosie would be pleased to hear that."
She eats. I watch. The tension slowly drains from her shoulders. The color returns to her cheeks. By the time she's worked through half the burger and most of the fries, she looks almost human again.
And her scent has transformed. No more stress hormones. No more fear.
My radio crackles.
"Sheriff Negrorio?" Deputy Martinez's voice, tinny through the speaker. "We've got a report of a suspicious vehicle. Out-of-state plates. Black sedan, rental sticker on the bumper. Been circling the Delacroix residence for the past twenty minutes."
Jessica freezes, fry halfway to her mouth. Her scent spikes sharp with fear.
"Description of the driver?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral even though my alpha is already preparing for violence.
"Male. Dark hair. Couldn't get a clear look at his face."
I don't need a clear look. I already know.
"I need to handle something," I tell Jessica. "Stay here. Finish your food."
"Nacho..." Her voice is thin. Scared. Her scent bitter again.
"Stay here."
I leave before she can argue. The cold air hits me like a slap when I step outside, but I barely feel it. My blood is running too hot.
Callum. He's here. In my town. Circling Jessica's home like a predator stalking prey.
