41. Quinn
QUINN
T he whole drive over to Steling’s, Blake is pure sunshine, bouncing in the backseat, chattering nonstop about all the ways she was awesome during the week.
Literally stars in his eyes.
And not for the first time, my mind drifts—to what it’ll be like having her here for good. Living under our roof, tangled in our lives, our hearts.
If I let myself, I'd believe this was it. Finally it.
We’re all buzzing, restless with excitement, giddy as hell to have been invited to her house for dinner.
So when we pull into her driveway, the relief is damn near audible—a collective sigh, hearts lifting.
JP’s out of the truck first, moving faster than I’ve ever seen him, practically sprinting to her door.
Selfish bastard. But I can’t even be mad. The change in him is so obvious, so stark—it’s like he’s been living in shadow and now he’s finally stepping into the sun.
Except—The second JP crosses the threshold, something slams into me.
A tidal wave of rage and fear.
A rush of Alpha energy so potent it nearly knocks me sideways. Adrenaline hits my bloodstream like a shot of acid.
“Cass—” I start, reaching back to keep Blake behind me, but it’s already too late.
Blake’s bounding up the steps, Cass at his heels, both of them pulled forward by instinct, by need.
And then we’re inside—and it’s like slamming into a goddamn brick wall.
Sterling’s scent.
Not the sweet vanilla and cinnamon it should be, it’s tinged with burnt sugar smell, sour and acidic. The wrongness of it sets every protective instinct I have on high alert.
It curdles the air, makes my skin crawl, sets every nerve ending on fire. All I can smell is her fear—and the stinking rot of Graves.
His Alpha stench still lingering, clinging to her home like a fucking violation.
Our Omega.
Our Omega was scared and hurt.
A sound rips from my chest before I can stop it. Cass stiffens beside me, every line of his body drawn tight with rage. JP’s already halfway through the living room, and when I see her?—
Clutching him.Tears streaming down her cheeks. I nearly fall to my knees. My Alpha is raging inside me, screaming to hunt, to destroy, to fix this.
But she needs us calm and steady. Blake tugs at my jeans, his little face scrunched with confusion and fear.
I scoop him up instinctively, holding him close, whispering against his hair, “It’s okay, buddy. Miss Hart’s gonna be okay. We’re here now.”
Cass’s voice cuts through the room, low and lethal.
“What the fuck happened?” he growls. I can see him scenting the room, piecing it together. His eyes darken, and when he speaks again, it’s bone-chilling.
“Why was my father here?”
I breathe through my nose, long and slow, forcing the bond to calm, to pour steady, soothing energy her way and to my pack. Safe. You’re safe. We have you.
Still, my hands are shaking when I set Blake down and go to her, Blake clinging to my legs. I don’t miss how she tries to hide her face in the crook of JP’s neck.
“Baby girl, breathe. Please breathe. We’ve got you now. Nothing’s gonna touch you again,” I whisper, shifting her hair out of her face.
She flinches, just a little.
That’s when I notice the bruise that’s getting darker low on her jaw, spreading down and around her neck like a twisted fingerprint. And the bruise that is already bright and angry on her forearm, finger marks clear.
The growl that rips from my throat is low and guttural. Cass stiffens next to me.
JP’s arms tighten around her protectively, his whole body coiled like a spring, murder simmering just beneath the surface.
Blake clings to my leg, whimpering. “Miss Hart?”
Sterling lifts her head and stares down at him for a minute. I can almost feel her heart break at the sight of Blake. “I’m okay,” she says weakly, her voice raspy.
“Hey, buddy,” I murmur, scooping Blake up into my arms. He clutches my shirt, burying his face in my shoulder, scenting my anger and fear. “It’s okay. Sterling’s okay. We’ve got her,” I whisper into his ear.
Cass’s scent sharpens, becomes dangerous, and I know we’re seconds away from bloodshed if I don’t hold the line, if I don’t pull him back, Graves is a dead man.
“Cass,” I bark low. “Breathe.”
I feel Sterling’s body stiffen in my arms, her scent tightening with fear, and I know—we’re scaring her. Our Alpha instincts, our rage—they’re not what she needs right now.
“Cass,” I snap sharply. “Enough.”
Then—
He drops to his knees in front of Sterling, his eyes softening with a grief so raw it guts me.
“I’m sorry, songbird,” he says thickly. “We’re scaring you. I’m scaring you. I’m so sorry.”
Sterling’s face crumples, her body folding into herself, and the tears come hard and fast.
Not from fear.
But from the weight of everything.
She buries her face against my chest, sobbing, and I hold her tighter, rocking her gently like she’s Blake, like she’s precious and fragile and the whole fucking world.
“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m sorry. I never wanted anything like this to happen.”
“Shh, baby, no,” I whisper fiercely. “Don’t you dare apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing.”
When she’s calm enough to speak, Sterling pulls back slightly, swiping at her wet cheeks with trembling fingers.
“He said he’d ruin you,” she whispers brokenly. “Said if I didn’t leave…he’d take the business. The house. Everything. He even?—”
Her voice catches, and she hugs herself.
“He even said he’d hurt Blake.”
A ripple goes through all of us—an unspoken fury so potent it thrums in the air.
“We’re not losing anything,” Cass says, his voice as hard as stone. “We have you. That’s what matters. Only that.”
Sterling shakes her head, still struggling. “But your dreams, the charter, your shop?—”
“You’re my dream, songbird,” Cass says simply. “You. Blake. This family.”
Cass reaches up and runs a hand over her hair, his own face crumpling like he can’t hold it together anymore.
Then he pulls her into his arms, crushing her against his chest like he can shield her from the world just by holding her tight enough.
And I swear to God, I’ve never seen that look on his face before.
Raw adoration.
A love so fierce it feels like it pours out of him and through the bond, sweeping the rest of us along with it.
Cass never does anything easy or small. When he finally sets her down, careful as glass, he turns to me and JP. I’m already moving toward him, heart hammering.
“Cass?” I say, voice low, catching his arm.
He grips my forearm tight, yanking me into a hug that’s quick but crushing, like a goodbye wrapped in a promise.
Then he does the same to JP—who looks just as torn between wanting to go with him and not daring to leave Sterling’s side.
Cass pulls back, giving us both a look that's nothing short of lethal.
“Take care of my songbird,” he says, voice rough and final.
And then he’s gone. I feel it the second he steps over the threshold. The bond between us snaps shut—not broken, but muted. An unsettling blankness where his steady thrum of presence should be.
I watch him walk down the steps…I don’t have to guess where he’s going. Graves better pray to every god he’s ever heard of.