There’s the sound of footsteps out in the corridor. Lynx turns to leave, but fuck that, I have so many questions. “Wait?”
He stops and looks back over his shoulder.
“What happens now?”
The sigh he lets out is a mix of resigned and frustrated, but he turns to face me fully as the footsteps get closer. Whoever it is, they’re almost here. “Now I have to explain myself to the rest of my—” He hesitates for a split second before adding, “pack.”
“What about me?”
His gaze sweeps over me. “What about you?”
“What happens now that I know? Do I just leave as planned?”
His grin is feral as he shakes his head. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” If I’m honest, I expected as much, but hearing him say it is still jarring.
“You know a secret that you have no business knowing. We have the Beasts to thank for that, but unfortunately, you’re my problem now.”
I instantly bristle. Fuck him. “And what does that mean?” I snap, anger overriding any fear.
His eyes widen, but his grin only gets bigger. “It means you stay here until we decide what to do with you.” He’s out the door before I get chance to tell him what I think of that idea.
“You can’t keep me here,” I yell after him.
I get as far as throwing the sheet back before a voice says, “Oh, I think you’ll find we can.”
Flint Harrison fills the doorway, gaze dropping to where I’m just about to lower a leg onto the floor.
He waves a finger at me. “I’d get back in if I were you.”
My heart pounds, my brain screaming at me not to provoke the big scary shifter, because they all must be one, right? Everyone in this compound is probably the same as Lynx. But my mouth has a mind of its own apparently. “Or what?”
He snorts like I’m hilarious. “Or I’ll make you, and neither of us wants that.” He snaps his teeth, and I’m sure it’s not my imagination making them look sharper and longer than normal.
I get back in bed.
“Good boy.”
“Fuck off.” It’s halfhearted at best, but my mouth is probably going to get me killed one of these days.
Flint just laughs. He drops into the chair Lynx was sat in and leans back, phone in hand, the picture of relaxation.
That reminds me. “Where’s my phone?” It’s not in my pockets, I checked. And I can’t see it on the table next to me.
“You dropped it in the stairwell.”
“Can I have it back?”
“Nope.”
“Why?” Frustration fills my whole body when Flint just shrugs, a good dose of fear hot on its heels. It takes me a second to voice the words banging around in my head. “Am I a prisoner?”
He scrunches his nose. “Don’t be fucking stupid. We’re a motorcycle club, not the police.”
“So I’m free to go whenever I want, then.”
His hand comes up and he tilts it back and forth.
