But before I could go after him, another tourist stepped into my path. An older man this time, grinning ear to ear, holding up his phone.
“Sorry, sir, Beau, right? Do you mind? My wife’s not gonna believe I met you!”
He shoved in closer before I could answer, the scent of aftershave and airport food heavy on his coat.
Every part of me, the part that was used to being calm and composed, used to playing nice with the locals, used to notscaring humans, had to clamp down hard on the sudden, violent urge to snarl and shove him away.
I couldn’t afford a scene. Not today.
I forced a polite smile, teeth clenched tight. “I’m needed elsewhere right now. Thanks for coming by. Hope you enjoy your stay in Sugarpaw Springs.”
He blinked, thrown off by how fast I shut him down, but I didn’t stick around for the response. I was already moving.
Sean’s face was seared into my mind, how white he looked, how hollow, and my bear was pacing under my skin, ears flat, sensing danger we hadn’t seen yet.
I scanned the bakery, trying to retrace what the hell might’ve set him off.
Then I saw Rafael. My second-in-command was behind the counter, half-turned toward a tall man in a slate-gray suit. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but something about him rubbed me the wrong way.
My bear growled. Even without Sean in the equation, I didn’t like that guy. But Sean was in the equation, and he was my priority.
I flagged Dorian down with a nod. “Cover for me.”
Without waiting for a reply, I slipped through the swinging doors and out the back.
The alley behind Bear and Bun was quiet. The scent of fresh bread gave way to asphalt, motor oil, and damp brick. I spotted him instantly.
Sean was crouched near the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, chest heaving. He looked like he was trying to disappear into the shadows between a stack of old crates and a garbage bin.
My heart twisted.
“Sean?”
He didn’t respond at first. Just trembled, like the wind could knock him over. Then he looked up, his eyes locking onto mine, and something in him eased. Like a string pulled too tight had finally slackened.
“Beau?” he whispered, voice barely there.
The sound of my name in that small, broken tone, it nearly undid me.
“I’m here,” I said gently, approaching slow. “Just me. You’re okay.”
He gave the faintest nod, but his shoulders didn’t stop shaking. His whole body was locked in place like a trap had sprung around him.
“Can I touch you?” I asked, crouching down to his level, keeping my voice soft, low, like I would with a scared animal in pain.
He nodded again, barely perceptible, but I saw it.
I reached out and wrapped an arm around him, tugging him gently against my side. He didn’t resist. In fact, the second he felt the contact, he collapsed into me like a wave breaking.
And I held him.
I didn’t speak at first. Just rubbed circles on his back, anchoring him, letting him feel my warmth, my scent, my presence. His breath hitched against me.
I felt him trying to pull air into his lungs, like every inhale was a struggle.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re safe.”
“I saw him,” Sean whispered, his voice hoarse from crying or fear, or both. “He’s here. Orin. He’s in the bakery, Beau. He’s talking to Rafael.”
