Knot Her Shot (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 2)

Chapter 19

chapter

nineteen

So,here’s the thing.

I’ve never been great with rules.

Someone with some fancy-ass degrees on their wall could probably psycho-analyze me and figure out what, exactly, made me like this. Was it watching my parents break the law all the time? Was it the seething sense of injustice whenever they forgot to buy food, but somehow had the nerve to try to set rules for me?

Or maybe it was all that cheating I did in school. Copying answers from whoever sat closest to me, knowing I’d never be able to read the questions.

Hockey didn’t help. I mean, there are rules and shit, but we also have a literal penalty box. On the ice. And the fans sort of love it when you end up in there. The bunnies always did, too…

So, it wasn’t really a deterrent.

The point is: I am not a rule-follower. I’m a rule-breaker.

Is anyone really surprised that while Celine was arguing with Smith, I took a picture of the info on the front of Remi’s Forever Matched file?

Exactly.

She left the damn thing on the coffee table, like two inches away from my phone, so. It really isn’t even my fault that I’m here, turning onto Remi’s street.

Which sucks, by the way. Holy shit. There are so many potholes that it looks like there’s a meteor shower happening instead of a spring rain.

I haphazardly parallel park my Audi, frowning at the rain pelting my windshield. My hair is going to look ridiculous.

But every time I close my eyes, I see Remi’s lower lip trembling. And every breath I take still tastes like her fear.

Fuck my hair.

It’s cool and damp tonight. The kind of weather that keeps people inside. Years ago, Cass, Smith, and I would have squashed into the living room of the loft we used to share, arguing over the TV and whether Thai food is better or worse than Chinese.

Now, I’m sure our living room is as empty as it always is. Sealed up like a tomb, shrouds and all.

Jesus.

Having an omega is making me morbid.

I cup my hand over my brow and run across the back street. My footsteps pound along with the rain, slapping the uneven pavement. When I finally drop my arm and look around, squinting through the downpour, my spine snaps straight.

There’s a hooded figure hanging around the building’s stoop. Back hunched, hands in his pockets, pacing like an angry bull. A growl vibrates in the back of my throat, protective instincts rising.

I grew up surrounded by junkies. I’ve seen first-hand how much damage they can do when they get too agitated or impatient for their next fix.

When I snarl, though, the guy in the hoodie answers with a roar of his own.

A familiar one.

“Beastly?” I balk. “The fuck are you doing here?”

Cassian stands up and shoves his hood back, revealing unstyled, wet hair and a ferocious scowl. He throws his hand at Remi’s building. “I’ve been here for hours! I came as soon as we left the match place! You think I’d let her be in this building alone? In this neighborhood? I’ll fucking sleep on this stoop if I have to.”

Wow. Okay.

Beastly is in A Mood.

I glance at the apartment building’s foggy glass door and the small foyer beyond, all cramped with rusted mailboxes. It doesn’t exactly seem like Fort Knox.

“Did you consider just, like, going in?”

He glowers, chest heaving in angry pants. “Yes, I considered it. But this is her safe place.” He eyes the building dubiously, lingering on the rusted-out locks. “Well, she thinks it’s safe. I don’t want to just— She was scared, Damon. Of us.”

Of Smith.

The bitter voice in my head is enough to twist my gut. I hate it when we aren’t getting along, but I can’t deny this is all our pack alpha’s fault. Before he walked in, Remi didn’t seem scared at all. He really must have treated her like shit.

My teeth clench on an angry sound. “She wasn’t afraid of us,” I argue. “It was Smith. And he’s not here. I say we try to go up.”

He isn’t sure, but I can tell he’s on the ropes. Little does his grumpy ass know, I’m going up there either way.

“She might be upset,” I point out, trying a different approach. “She’s probably all alone, crying…”

Cassian grinds his jaw, glaring at the building. “The sign says no alphas after eight p.m.”

You remember what I said about rules, though, right?

For the last five minutes,I’ve basically bounced in place. Doing my best not to let the charred honey wafting into this dingy hallway send me into a protective frenzy. There’s also a sharper edge to the lavender note that I’m not sure I love.

What could that mean?

Fuck me, I should’ve Googled.

Cassian looms behind me, still silently raging. “How did you know which apartment was hers?” I mutter.

“I read the address on her file and memorized it.”

Fucking Cass. Always pointing out exactly how much of a dumbass I am.

I reach up to knock, tossing him a pointed look. “Let me talk, okay? You’re all… Beastly. And our girl is a runner.”

He puts his glower back on, rolling his eyes. But I don’t hear a word of argument, either.

It takes a couple of minutes for Remi’s quiet voice to come through the door crack. “Wh-who’s there?”

Fuck, she sounds so sad. Scared and miserable and just… small.

I find myself crowding closer, my eyes falling closed while I press my forehead against the door. “It’s me, pretty girl,” I murmur. My tone drops lower, into the softer one I didn’t know I was capable of until this afternoon. “I couldn’t stay away. Can I come in?”

I hear her hand hit the handle before she stops herself. “C-come in?”

Smiling to myself, I glance over at my packmate. “Yeah, I brought you a surprise. He’s kind of pissed off, though. And, uh, wet.”

The door suddenly falls away, revealing a petite omega in a thin, floral robe. The light in the hall is dim, but it’s easy to see she’s been crying. Her face is swollen, and her eyes look red and squinty. A cascade of mussed black silk spills over one shoulder in a clump of curls.

Shit. Was she in bed?

Omega, you idiot, my brain jeers. She was probably in her nest thingy.

More shit to Google.

A wave of her sharp, burnt stress floods out of the tiny apartment. Cassian snaps forward instantly, the harsh lines of his face fading into concern.

He isn’t the only one. Remi makes a distressed sound in her throat and tugs us both in by our shirts.

“You guys!” she scolds. “It’s pouring out there! You’re going to get sick!”

She fusses with both of us, delicate fingers plucking at my soggy T-shirt and Cassian’s drenched hoodie. I can’t move—I’m too busy obsessively watching the way her face furrows into a pout.

She huffs, exasperated, and throws her hands up. “Honestly, what were you two thinking?”

That you are so fucking cute, I could die.

“It’s Cassian’s fault,” I tell her, literally pointing my finger. “He went all moody-broody Batman on your front stoop.”

Remi’s fists fall to her slight hips, and she sniffs, tossing her hair back while she looks up at Cass. “I take it that means you saw the sign on the front door?”

Is Cassian cringing? Oh my God, he is. Why don’t we have a camera?

“Yeah,” he admits. “I, ah, saw that.”

She tosses a palm at me but keeps giving him a piece of her mind. “Damon might not care about rules like those, but I expect better from you, Bear.”

I guffaw, pretending to act offended. “How do you know I don’t care?”

Remi sways to a narrow closet, pulling towels off a high shelf. It’s hard to decide where to look—her knowing little scowl or the way the back of her robe rides up.

“It’s pretty easy to tell,” she informs me. “I looked up your penalty stats. But you also seem like the kind of guy who used to cut class and end up in detention.”

And you look like the cute little teacher’s pet who would meet me in the parking lot afterward.

I smirk, trying for a charming quirk of my eyebrow. “You looked me up?”

Her stern expression wobbles while she thwacks a pink towel into my chest. “I… looked up the team. And you were a bit unavoidable since your face is all over everything. I learned a lot, actually. I didn’t even know there was a hockey team in Orlando.”

“Yeah,” Cassian grunts, already drying his hair. “We hear that a lot.”

An awkward silence falls between us. I see the exact moment it occurs to Remi that she just let two alphas into her apartment. Her eyes dart around frantically, finally falling on her own clothes—or lack thereof.

“I didn’t expect anyone,” she whispers, pulling the flowered fabric tighter around her body. “I’m sorry I didn’t clean up or cook anything…”

Cassian shrugs out of his sweatshirt and places it in Remi’s kitchen sink—which is alarming, since we’re still next to the front door. He ignores how tight the space is and how wet the button-down clinging to his chest must be and steps forward. Lifting his hand to touch under her chin, he raises her eyes to his.

“Hey. We never expect you to clean or cook for us, Rems. We came because we want to take care of you. Have you eaten anything since you left Forever Matched? I didn’t see any delivery guys, and I don’t see any dishes.”

She swallows. The motion looks thick. “I—No. I was in my… nest.”

Definitely should have Googled that shit.

All I want is to pull her into my arms and kiss that big-eyed, uncertain look right off her face. The way she’s biting on her lower lip and trembling, is killing me. My purr, ineffectual as it may be from over here, kicks up automatically.

“Let’s get you food, sweetness,” I try, hoping for a smile when I send her one of my own. “Anything sound good?”

She chews her lip harder, her eyes darting behind me to the closed door, a question lurking in the golden blue. I roll my eyes and attempt a joke, “Are you worried about Smith? Don’t be. We sent him to time out. Let’s just focus on getting you settled, huh?”

The smallest flicker of amusement flutters over her face. But then it’s gone, and she looks even sadder than before.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Of the three of us, it’s no secret I’m the most charming. And persuasive. Usually.

But what if I can’t do this?

What if none of us can?

Scared shitless by that impossibility, I drift closer, turning her face to mine. My eyes bounce between hers, absorbing the incredible color and her tear-spiked eyelashes.

I skim my fingers up to her cheek and tuck some of her hair behind her ear, whispering, “Why do you look so sad, pretty girl?”

She swallows again, the sound sticky and painful. “I…” With a big breath, she tries to force herself to stand up straight, but only halfway manages it. Her whole body shakes.

“How did all of this get so messed up?” she whispers. “If he’s my mate, why is he so…” She shudders, no doubt remembering what a dick Smith can be. “I don’t know if I can please him. I’ve been trying for months, but he hates me.”

Fucking. Smith.

“It isn’t your job to please him,” I half-growl. “It’s his job to please you.”

“And he doesn’t hate you, Rems,” Cassian murmurs, quiet but seething.

Remi only shakes harder. “You didn’t see how angry I made him. I’m sure he won’t want me in your house. You guys should just say goodbye to me now.”

Um, excuse me? Goodbye?

My face furrows. “We just got here, sweetness. And I had to talk your bear out of sleeping on the front porch, so good luck getting rid of either of us.”

Cassian steps closer, his big body pressing into her side. “We can do whatever you want, butterfly,” he vows. “Order food, go out. If you wanted to leave this place right now and never come back, we would take you home with us.”

Remi’s scent is the first giveaway. It turns dark again—somehow sweeter and more stressed than before. I realize it’s confusion when I see the way her mouth opens and closes, grasping at words. Tears fill her wide eyes and spill down her face.

Fuck, the sight of her crying is like having a cracked rib. My other hand immediately flies up so I can cup her head between my palms and press my forehead into hers. “Shh, don’t cry, pretty girl.”

My purr gets louder. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it for you. Or we can make Cassian fix it. Either way, please let us take you home.”

“Smith would never want me there,” she warbles. “And he—he scares me. I’m telling you; he hates me.”

He doesn’t. I know he doesn’t, because he spent over an hour arguing with Celine, begging her to pull Remi’s application out of Forever Matched’s circulation. When Steel-Balls refused, he nearly shattered the door slamming it on our way out.

But I don’t think this is really about how much Smith wants Remi. I think it’s more about how much she doesn’t want Smith.

She’s right; he scared her. It’s understandable and totally valid, which only means there’s no way for any of us to undo it.

Except for him. Getting his head out of his own ass.

Which, based on past performance? Means we probably don’t have a shot.