I feel sick. For a million reasons but mostly because I can feel the pain radiating from her. She looks at me desperately. “Please don’t say anything. The whole thing is a mess.”
“Ho.” Is all I manage, absolutely devastated at her truth. This is so much more than what she led us to believe. The tears fall down my face and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.
Heidi being Heidi is way too sensible in her emotion. “I’ll tell the others, but I just need a bit of time. And Raney’s getting packed which is a million times more important. Please, Tris, don’t tell her.”
And yeah, it is her grief, her heartache, but I’m drowning in her pain amplified because of how fucking awful life is to all of us too. What kind of world do we live in where scent-matched mates do this to us?
She explains in as much detail as she’s prepared to share, and I get it. She asks me to give her time… I’d give her a perfect world complete with fairy-tale princes if I could.
The kittens get sent down to Millie and the both of us lock away the secrets we need to talk about but can’t. In typical Scorned Girls style that means we hone all our attention on to making sure Raney has the most amazing pack day ever. JFC Koz, despite his near feral doting on our girl, is such a squishy-marshmallow inside. He certainly keeps my romantic dreams alive with all the surprises he has planned for our girl. And I am so focused on making sure Heidi’s okay and making sure Raney’s special packing day is too, that the text I get from an unnamed number threatening me again to stay away from King honestly gets locked out of our festivities.
I guess I should have known King would find out about the text. When the elevator door opens in the hospital garage, the seething rage I see on his face nearly has me falling to my kneesin front of the Scorned Girls, Koz, Puck, half The Fallen MC club, and all the other lurkers around us, to confess each of my sins.
Heidi saves me the embarrassment, misreading my stumble out of formation. She hides our conversation behind the oversized bouquet of wisteria the three of us are holding as we wait for Raney.
Koz has organised everything as a surprise for her, right down to what he wanted us to wear and the flowers we’re holding. All the girls and I have to do is give Raney a day she won’t forget. A pamper day as a her send off before she gets packed, kind of like a bridal shower. Although I’m not sure the hospital carpark is the best place for it to start, although it is where she slept last night which means it’s probably the safest given all Koz’s men have been guarding the place.
“Tris, wait until Koz has said his piece until you rush Raney. He’ll shoot you right in the forehead if you ruin his big day.”
While everyone in the garage watches international gunrunner and all-round psychotic guy publicly declaring his adoration for our girl, King and I have a decent argument using our eyes.
It’s impossible to explain how I know what he’s saying word for word. Unless you’ve experienced a connection scent-mates share it wouldn’t make sense. But in long stares, flicking eyebrows, and a few rapid blinks I soothe his anger at us being caught out again, before we both reflect on the shit situation we’re caught in.
He doesn’t like it one bit when he sees how it upsets me and he knows it’s not just the text. It’s the web of lies we’re tangled in. I turn away from him so he can’t see the growing acceptance that I’m never going to have a day like Raney is.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
KING
“You’re in a cunt of a mood… Pres,” Joker mutters as he walks past, a sneer on his ugly mug. But he’s not fucking wrong.
To the rest of the world, I bet I look like an anxious father about to hand his baby girl over to her Alphas, because I am. But the mood Joker refers to comes from Tristan being targeted again by her fucking texter, along with a general sense of un-fucking-ease souring me more.
JFC, I’m seriously struggling from going feral and telling everyone to run. Raney’s not stupid, I see her watching me and I’m trying not to be a stick in the mud on her big day but obviously I’m not doing great if Joker is telling me to chill out.
There’s no disputing a lot of my current shit mood is due to Tristan’s fake smile. Each time Tris laughs, I can hear she’s not herself but no one else sees it. And that fucks me off too because how can’t her friends see it? So, all in all, Joker is being entirely spot on with his observation which also pisses me off.
Koz turns and looks at me, picking up on—not the man-to-man shit I got filling my head—but the Alpha-to-Alpha communication of our designations. With that, he reads my stress loud and fucking clear.
“We need to roll. We’re out in the fucking open and the people who live here ain’t the friendliest,” I roar at him, like a Grizzly Bear.
“Puck, get Raney,” Koz snaps in return. His eyes stay locked on my face as he tries to get a better read on what’s got me riled up.
It’s lucky me and him have a long history built on trust or I’d be up in his face telling him to watch himself. But he senses something feels not right too. I can see it on his face, plain as fucking day, much like he can see the worry on mine.
Part of me feels like a prick rushing Raney’s day but I’ve come too close to losing her once before. While today is most certainly about her and her pack, you’d have to be fucking dead not to look at the bigger picture of a man claiming the woman he loves, and to tie that to what’s going on in your own life. Well, that’s what I’m doing, arguing over all the little things that are stopping me from doing what Koz is: making a very public claiming of his Omega.
I want that. I want it so fucking much I spend hour after hour awake searching for the answers that are not fucking there. It’s hard to move past the facts—I royally bent over one relationship fucking it up a hundred different ways to hell until it broke. It nearly cost me my daughter and my fucking sanity. Maybe Jenn and I never should have tried to be together but the second she told me she was pregnant none of it mattered because she became my responsibility. With Raney’s birth, that deep seated primal culpability only intensified, and despite all the times I tried to put her first or I strived for a better life, once you’re in a MC club it’s not like you can just pull the pin. I thought we’d make it work as a strange family unit, but then she threw everything back in my face when she left.
The Fallen isn’t just a club, we’re a way of life and the people there have helped me as much as I’ve helped them. Asking Tristo stand up at the front with me at every fucking function and event at the club wearing a leather cut instead of her fancy designer shit until we die isn’t something that sits right. She’s young, got a life to fucking live and all I’ll be doing is shackling her to a man old enough to be her father. Add in my hang-up, she’d be living a life where the whole of society looks down their noses at everything we do. All I see is us packing as a no-win situation.
My girl is used to living a life where people look up to her on billboards and runways. People around the world admire and talk about her but if I take her as pack, I see it disappearing.
So yeah, I’m a right fucking treat to be around.
“Joker, do the rounds,” I bark out. “And call the boys and see if they’re picking up anything.”
