Chapter 26 #2
I fucking hate knives, but they’re the weapon of choice in this part of the world, more so than guns. But the lesson this kid is getting taught about how dangerous a knife is unless you know how to use one will stay with him forever. Much like the scar on his face.
The cut isn’t deep, a sign of Tynan’s control both physically and emotionally, but it makes a right bloody mess. The young Alpha drops his knife to grab his face. Tynan kicks the knife behind him before turning his attention to the Alpha that started all this by grabbing me.
While the other Alpha came with a knife, the one who attacked me has gone full kung fu. His arms and legs are flying everywhere, but like his friend, he’s severely lacking and all his kicks and hits miss. Tynan moves quickly to teach this Alpha a brutal life lesson too.
He catches the Alpha’s hand midair, rushes to close the distance before twisting the kid's arm and pushing up. It’s all it takes, and the unmistakable sound of a shoulder dislocating echoes before the baby Alpha screams.
The bleeding Alpha gets a burst of energy and bounces back onto his feet.
Tynan stands his ground, waiting to see if he’ll attack again or run.
Instead of leaving to lick his wounds, the Alpha hunches over and charges like a bull, grabbing Tynan’s midsection on the way through.
Anyone else would be knocked into next week, but Tynan’s experience saves him.
It’s clear, though, in the way he moves, Tynan’s had enough. He does a very similar movement as he did before, getting the kid in position, then popping his shoulder out before simply stepping out of the fight.
The thud as the kid drops onto the pavement makes me feel ill. And when he doesn’t move or make a sound, Tynan is there, immediately rearranging the big buffoon into a recovery position.
I think it was the shock of being taken down that made the kid act like a statue, or it was humiliation. Either way, barely a second later, he’s on his feet, running like his life depends on it. Unsurprisingly, without a backwards glance for his friends.
The others take off straight after them, taking the chaos with them. I stare after them, in case they decide to come back.
Tynan’s fingers intertwining with mine again bring me around.
“What the fuck?” I squeak, sorting through the quickening still hammering through my system from our altercation. “What alternate world have I walked into where people use their goddamn kids to send a message? Don’t the O’Connors own these streets?”
I get one of Tynan’s quiet nods in agreement. He reaches down behind him, picking up a paper bag and slinging it over his wrist so he can lift a tray of takeout drinks.
“I got a couple of options. Wasn’t sure what you’d feel like.”
He talks like we’ve been doing cozy breakfast catch-ups for a hundred years or so, but instead of leading me inside, he turns us and we start walking in the completely wrong direction.
“Tynan, where are we going?”
He turns slightly, but his eyes are assessing the street until he finds what he wants.
Diverting us towards a group of homeless people, he lets my hand go and squats in front of them, talking softly but friendly too.
It’s pretty obvious by their interaction he’s done this before.
He passes over the bag, plus the tray of drinks, laughing and shaking hands with the group.
I’m so confused, all I can do is stare.
Even when he comes back to me, grabs my hand in his again, and starts walking across the street, I still don’t know what’s going on.
“Tynan,” I huff impatiently.
“We’re going out for something to eat, that’s what we’re doing, firecracker. It’s not like we can go up to the apartment now. It’d look like we were hiding. I won’t disrespect you like that.”
“You’re not making sense,” I argue as we keep walking down the road.
I know he’s got a small smile on his face—I can feel it—but he doesn’t talk again until we reach where he wanted to bring me.
I shake out of his hand and press my nose against the glass, trying to take in the window display. “A French patisserie?! Are you kidding me right now?”
“Baked fresh every day, using all French produce. Miam is Rafferty’s favorite breakfast place.
Apparently, the pain au chocolat is… ahhhmazing.
” He doesn’t sound like himself when he says amazing .
I’m sure it’s a perfect mimic of his twin because Tynan doesn't miss a thing. As is the small smile when he speaks again. “I’m ordering for you.”
“No,” I gasp, but he ignores my protest and uses his hands on my waist to push me inside.
And then I realize why. The window display is nothing to the inside of the café.
The smell past the doors is heavenly, making my mouth water, but also the scent appeals on a different level, speaking to my Omega side.
The atmosphere is the same, appealing to my senses and my designation.
There’s nothing but happiness and good vibes in here.
The contrast between the baby Alpha smackdown out on the street and standing in the café is as different as Tynan is from Keegan.
Even though we’re not in any danger, Tynan doesn’t remove his hands from my body as we wait.
We’re next to be served, and as soon as the other person leaves, a stunning woman—and, seriously, she’s the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen— turns to face us.
Her smile lights up, and she reaches for Tynan’s hand as soon as she sees him.
Fuck me, I thought I’d suffered enough surprises today, but apparently not.
In the space of one heartbeat and the next, from literally out of nowhere, I bare my teeth and hiss like an angry big cat in warning.
And then I realize in horror what I did and reach for her hand before she has the chance to lose any of her glowing energy. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to do that at all.”
Tynan isn’t as polite as I am; he ignores her and turns me to face him. “You just hissed at her for looking at me.”
“I know,” I whisper back, mortified.
A smug smile on nearly perfect mouth steals my focus, and I realize he was talking to me. “What?”
He leans close, his mouth a hairsbreadth from my face until he’s at my ear. “I said, you getting territorial makes me nearly lose control.”
I gasp but start laughing. “Nearly?”
Then he turns back to the woman, that goddamn smile still on his face, his words still echoing in my ears. “Eloise, this is Tally O’Connor. My wife. Our wife.”