Chapter 8
chapter
eight
Tristan is waiting for us when we get to the police station.
I’ve been part of the Thorne Pack for close to fifteen years, but it still boggles my mind to see the way he gets things done. This place should be buzzing. Especially in light of what has apparently just happened here.
Instead, it’s deader than a doornail. Almost every cubicle sits empty, the front desk manned by an apathetic beta woman who answers the phone in a monotone.
No press, no detectives swarming, no flashing lights or drama.
Damn.
The devil works fast, but Tristan Thorne works faster.
“Over here,” Tris mumbles, leading us to an abandoned corner.
He looks like shit. Twitchy and pale, with his shoulders hiked up. I note the way his hands keep clenching into fists at his sides, and a bolt of dread strikes my throat.
He really bit her.
I sort of didn’t believe it. Even as Spencer ranted the whole way over.
He told us the short version of the story at least three times. Some omega with “Super-Perfume”—whatever the hell that is—came in and needed help. Tris walked into the room, took two breaths, and wound up biting her on the spot.
That’s insanely out of character. If you’d asked me which one of us was most likely to do something like this, I could have made a case for anyone else.
If I believe in anything, it’s scent-sensitivity, which is why I’ve never pushed the guys to look into omegas. I figured there was no point. If our true mate was out there somewhere, we would find them whenever it was meant to be.
If I’d been the one to stumble across him or her… I wouldn’t have meant to, but I may have been tempted to bite first and ask questions later.
And Avery? His Alpha is a beast . Fucking feral . If he slipped his leash for half a second around the wrong omega?
Yeah, I can see it.
Spencer, too. He may seem the most controlled, but how long can a guy rein himself in before he snaps? I’ve known him for the better part of twenty years, and I’ve never seen him with anyone . He has to be lonely as fuck. If someone told me he’d lost his shit, I would easily believe it.
But Tristan ?
Tris is careful , not controlled. He listens to his instincts but also tempers them. Gives his Alpha just enough, never too much. And under all the senator shit, he’s kind and empathetic in a way most people never see.
Not to mention… all of that senator shit .
He’s in the press. He has a reputation. People counting on him. Important laws he’s trying to pass.
Tris rarely gets angry at any of us, but when he does, it’s usually regarding optics. Because if our pack gets a bad rep? All of his work goes to shit.
I don’t know if I can think of something that would be worse for his position than this. Assaulting and biting an omega? A strange, younger woman who came down here to get help?
We are so fucked.
A door opens and closes. Dr. Archer Monroe appears, frowning, with concern behind his square-framed glasses.
I clap his shoulder. “Arch, hey. How are you?”
After playing for the Ospreys for years, I know our team doctor well. In the off-season, he also conducts research at the same university where Spence teaches—but, of course, our packmate would never try to socialize with anyone.
Instead, they offer each other professional nods. Spencer holds his gaze. “What’s the situation?”
Archer gives him a look and politely addresses our pack as one. “In terms of where she came from, I’m afraid I don’t have good news. She’s physically fine right now, but she has a lot of healed bones and several scars. She’s dehydrated and needs vitamins, particularly vitamin D; so I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been kept out of the sunlight. For the next few months, she’ll need a rich diet, lots of fluids, and adequate time outdoors. ”
My head spins.
Scars? From what ?
And kept out of the sunlight ? As in, she hasn’t been allowed outside ?!
Holy fucking shit.
She hasn’t been allowed outside . She hasn’t been eating . And now Tristan has traumatized her to hell .
Archer sighs, wiping his glasses on his shirt. “As for the current situation—she’s awake and very frightened. She’s also severely touch-starved, which causes a lot of underlying distress for omegas. She can feel Tristan’s emotions, as well, which isn’t helping. He needs to get a feel for the half-bond and figure out how to shut his interior doors to keep his feelings from affecting her. At least, for now.”
Tristan’s fists turn white. “I’m trying ,” he mutters. “I swear.”
Archer places a steadying hand on our pack leader’s shoulder. “Incomplete bonds are tricky to disconnect from. Overriding that will likely take several hours, if not days.”
Avery is a ghost behind me. He has been this entire time. Silent and deadly. Absorbing the scene with his ice-blue, unreadable eyes.
Now, he finally speaks. And it isn’t great.
“How do we undo this?”
Archer grimaces. “Well…”
Ave scowls. “What?”
Spencer shoots our youngest packmate a venomous look. “There isn’t a way to undo it. The omega will either bond with Tris during her next heat, or the half-bond will begin to jeopardize his health.”
Archer crosses his arms with a shrug. “I suggest you work on how to stop that happening. As a pack. In the meantime, Tristan’s body won’t tolerate being away from her for very long without extreme pain.”
So… not ideal.
“That’s not happening,” I huff. “If she’s our mate, we need to be taking care of her. And if Tris can’t be away from her, then we’ll just invite?—”
Oh God. What is her name? We’re standing out here discussing her entire future and I don’t even know the poor girl’s name ?
Archer reads my panic. His lips quirk into a sad smile. “Serena. ”
Serena .
Goddamn, that’s pretty. I can tell Avery agrees because he hates that he does. It’s written all over his face.
I nudge his elbow with mine, and he turns his murderous eyes on me. “Oh, come on,” I grumble. “It’s a good name.”
“Fine,” he snaps. “Doesn’t change the fact that our dick-head pack leader just basically bonded with a total stranger .”
Tris groans, his head falling back. “It was an accident .”
“An accident is parking in a tow-away zone,” Spencer snarls, low and even—and somehow all the more vicious for it. “This is a life-changing catastrophe, Tristan. None of us are ready for an omega . None of us have prepared or discussed what we’re looking for! And you just?—”
He’s spinning out. Of all of us, Spencer is the one who would have needed the most time to prepare. He’s complicated.
“Tris didn’t do it on purpose, Spence,” I murmur, trying not to touch him even though I want to pat his back. “You know he isn’t impulsive.”
Understatement of the century.
Tristan never makes mistakes. The vultures in the media will have a field day with this.
Spencer turns his cool, dark eyes back to Tris, the veins along his forearms standing out as he crosses them. “We have no option, now, anyway. She has to stay near you or you won’t be able to function. Not to mention all the heat-spikes she’s going to have and all the easing she’ll need. And a half-bonded heat without alphas to tend to her would be agonizing .”
Fuck, that’s right. A half-bond will send her Omega into a tailspin once her haze kicks in.
I don’t even know this woman, but my instincts balk at the notion of leaving her to suffer. Especially since none of this is her fault in the slightest.
It’s more than that, though. Hearing what Serena has been through, I can’t imagine walking out of here without a backward glance. She obviously needs help getting out of whatever terrible situation she’s been in.
It’ll be fine.
Probably .
Archer shrugs at us. “You may want to meet the omega before you all decide how you feel. Given Tristan’s reaction, I wouldn’t be surprised if your whole pack is scent-sensitive to her.”
Damn .
Could that really be true?
A mate is the dream I gave up on. So long ago, I barely remember wanting it. But if it’s here and it’s happening…
It’s easy to smile. “See? We can find a silver lining here, guys. Bad circumstances, but, you know, everything happens for a reason.”
“Nauseating drivel,” Spencer bites out.
“Fuck off ,” Avery spits.
Tristan manages to turn paler. He swallows hard, his features hardening. “How will I ever make this up to her? If you all could feel how—she’s so scared ,” he rasps, dropping his chin to his chest and breathing hard. “I don’t think I should go back in there.”
Archer agrees. “Best not. And I’ll administer emergency doses of rut-blockers to each of you beforehand. Jonah, I’ll sign off on yours for the team, so you don’t have to worry about that. We have more than a month before the season starts anyway.”
Avery rolls his shoulders, the tats under his tank top moving with his muscles. “What, are we all just going to walk in there? Isn’t she, like, traumatized ?”
“Quite. I would recommend meeting her one at a time.”
Ah, shit.
I know what that means. Even before all three of my packmates turn and look right at me.
But Archer interrupts, chuckling quietly. “It’s not as simple as choosing the friendliest of you all,” he tells us. “You aren’t the ones making the choices anymore. She’ll decide who she needs to meet first. ”
Surprise echoes through all four of us.
Holy shit.
We have an omega.
And she’s in charge .
Spencer is about to strangle himself with his own outrage. “How do we allow her to choose without going in there?”
Archer has the grace not to outright smile. Or maybe he just doesn’t want Ave to kick his ass. But I see a spark of humor in his eye. “Well, Professor, you could start by taking off your shirt.”