“Summer and Chase?” a voice asks, interrupting Abbott.
The names make my spine stiffen, and I swallow hard as bile threatens to crawl up my throat. My arms tighten around Winter until she squeaks uncomfortably, but I can’t help it. Those aren’t names that should exist in the real world.
“What do you want with them?” Shiloh asks, getting up easily from where he’s laying. There’s tension in his body, the easy teasing gone now.
Ansel follows as well, while Abbott pulls a knife from a strap I didn’t see at his ankle. He’s in a more relaxed version of his usual suit, having ditched the jacket to lay it beside him. While the knife lays within my eyesight against the pretty plaid blanket, the man who called me Chase can’t.
Forcing myself to look up, I see a man with a smarmy smirk on his lip looking at Winter and I.
“Are you doing cuddle dates now? Whores for hire?” he asks, speaking very loudly and slowly as if we’re dumb.
Winter stares at the alpha’s shoes, refusing to look at his face as her body trembles against me.
“I think you’re misinformed,” Abbott says, standing up. “Let me set you straight about my omegas, shall I? Cassidy…”
“I got it,” she murmurs, texting near her knee quickly before crawling over to us. Her eyes remain wary of the guy who is being hauled away by Ansel and Shiloh while Abbott follows angrily.
It's done so quietly, no one turns to look at them.
“I don’t know who that is,” I rasp, breathing hard. “I swear…”
“It’s okay, Lovey,” she murmurs, sitting in front of us. “It’s clear that this is someone who used to frequent The Hug Project. There’s no reason why you’d remember them…”
Winter whimpers, and Cassidy and I freeze.
“Beloved…” I whisper. “Do you recognize him?”
“He used to keep his shoes on,” she says softly. “He was a regular in the private rooms. Even drugged, I remember the black stripes on his leather loafers. He used to hurt me.”
“And we’re going to make sure he hurts for that,” Cassidy says.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, eyes wide.
“What we do best. Add another name to Shiloh’s list so he can check it off, of course. Let’s go. There’s a car that’s going to pick us up.”
Standing, Cassidy brushes off her skirt before she begins to clean up the picnic quickly.
“Up we go,” I whisper in Winter’s ear. “It appears murder runs afoot.”
I used to love reading Shakespeare plays. Winter would always beg me to read it out loud because I’d make theatrical voices for everyone. My ninth grade teacher got me hooked, and I ran through all of his plays possible before rereading my favorites.
Something about the betrayals drew me to them, which is ironic now.
“Not funny,” Winter hisses, allowing me to help her up. I was being perfectly serious. This man who hurt her isn’t going to live for very long.
She’s a little pale from having seen him, her memory of his stupid, bougie shoes ingrained inside her mind.
“I didn’t mean to be,” I confess, holding her close to me as she continues to shiver.
“We’re never going to be free of those people,” she rasps.
“Oh yes you will,” Cassidy growls, draping the blanket over her arm as she stands with the picnic blanket. “Let’s get back to the house and you’ll see.”
Swallowing hard, Winter nods, and we follow Cassidy back through the park, where there’s a man standing outside of an SUV.
“Hi, Henri,” she says, waiting for him to open the back door.
“Hello, Miss Casey,” he replies formally, making me confused as we get inside.
