I’m lost in thought as my heavy steps take me closer to the front door, and I lean back onto the wall once I open it, already out of breath. It seems that without adrenaline running through my veins, my body has less stamina than I’d like. It enjoys reminding me that I’m indeed not immortal.
The skin around Adrain’s eyes pinch with disapproval, but he’s the one fucking throwing me out. He can’t really complain about how fucked my body is still, even if he and his pack have followed close behind me.
Something tells me it’s not simply to walk me out, and instead in case I keel over.
“Are you planning to walk through the front door like someone civil, or break a window like the criminal you are?” Adrain asks, his lips twitching in slight amusement.
“Storm once thought he saw a ghost and shot into the dark like a crazy person. What do you think he’ll do if I try to walk through the front door?” I ask, snorting.
“You’ll be visiting the morgue instead of me,” Adrain says simply.
“Pretty much. Listen,” I sigh. “If you ever need anything at all, please just say the word. You’ve gone above and beyond to help me.”
“I’d tell you not to worry about it, but I know you’re not the type to say that lightly,” Adrain grumbles. “Thank you. I really can’t explain why you’re alive, but I have a feeling it’s because you’re not done with this life yet.”
Marie’s face appears brightly in my mind, and I nod in agreement. I haven’t had enough time with her yet. Storm and Wilder shouldn’t have to live this life without me either, and my responsibilities are fierce.
But mostly? I miss my pack, and need to see them immediately.
Waving goodbye, I step outside of Pack Royal’s home and walk slowly down the stairs. Minneapolis is firmly locked into fall weather now, and my hair whips around my face as I pull up my neck gaiter. I don’t want to scare anyone quite yet, not until I’m home first.
I’m not really sure how I’m going to explain this to them, but I hear the truth is a good place to start. Grabbing my helmet, I place it on my head, disgusted by the fact that I had to drive all the way to Lyker’s sleepy little town in a damn cage to find my baby.
By that I mean my motorcycle, which was still parked near Chester’s garage. It’s a custom built bike, and I’m just glad no one trashed it or broke it down for spare parts. It’s an extension of me, and has never failed to take me where I need to go.
Even when I’m a weak, tired, delusional alpha who can’t steer properly. It’s never made me wreck.
Carefully climbing onto my bike, I fix my helmet and take the time to fix my neck gaiter so I completely cover my face. All you can see in the night air are my eyes.
Turning on the motorcycle, I gently rev the engine, my cock twitching at how fucking sexy it is. Unfortunately, it may be the closest I get to sex due to my Phoenix-like rise from the dead. Getting comfortable in my seat, I turn the bike toward my house, which is, funny enough, a few short blocks from here.
I’m barely a couple weeks into recovery, a pill that’s difficult to swallow. Some days, I wonder if the only reason I’m able to stand on my own two feet is due to being too stubborn to stay down.
The roads are silent as I drive, and before I know it, my brownstone sits in judgment before me.
“I know,” I whisper, shaking my head as I climb off the bike and put my helmet away.
My steps are heavy as I walk around the building searching for an easy way in. I finally pull out a screwdriver from one of the many pockets of my jeans and use it to force open a window.
The alarm goes off as I duck inside and shove the window closed again, turning to face the music as a naked Storm holds a shotgun in my direction.
“Hey honey, I’m home,” I murmur, my brow raised at his undressed appearance.
“Tell me something only I’d know,” he growls, ignoring the alarm as he cocks the gun sharply.
“Do you remember when I was bitten by that Rottweiler after breaking into the Rogers’ estate?” I ask. “The fucker raped and killed Martyr’s sister. He was out of his mind with grief, so even with the damn dog bite, you and I did what we needed to because we protect our own. It was a year before we split the club after my dad died.”
Only Storm and I know that happened, since we were the only ones there that night. He helped me take care of the stupid bite and the dog before we brutally murdered Luis Rogers and his brother. They were two punks who thought the way to pick up a girl from a bar was to drug her.
This was their version of wrong place, wrong time, but club justice doesn’t stop with its own.
Storm’s gun lowers slowly as his jaw works, and I know I’m still not in the clear. He might still shoot me.
“I’m not a ghost,” I tease him.
“You might wish you were, because Marie is fighting for her life during the worst goddamned heat she’s ever had. All she wants is you, and you’re supposed to be dead,” he grunts, watching as I sway on my feet at the news of Marie’s heat. “Are you gonna keel over?”
“I just might,” I breathe. “I really was dead for a few minutes on the operating table.”
