Chapter Two
Silence settled after the fight.
Aleksy stood still for half a second longer than necessary, breath controlled, gaze tracking the space out of habit even though there was nothing left moving. All threats down. All variables accounted for.
Except—her.
His attention shifted to her. Locked. Tamsin stood a few feet away, shoulders squared like she hadn’t just come out of a fight that should have dropped her, her breathing just a fraction too tight to pass as controlled.
And there—her side.
The way she held it just slightly off. The blood.
His jaw tightened. “You’re injured.”
She didn’t even look at him.
“Observant,” she muttered.
It was one part sarcasm, one part defense. He ignored both.
Aleksy turned, already moving, scanning the room with a different focus now—not for threats, but for utility.
“Stay still,” he said.
That got a reaction.
Her head snapped toward him, eyes sharp despite the strain under them. “Not a chance.”
He didn’t stop. Didn’t argue.
Just found what he needed—a compact medical kit mounted along the wall—and pulled it free with more force than necessary.
Because irritation sat under his skin now. Sharp. Unwelcome. Persistent.
Not at her, but at the fact that she was hurt at all.
He crossed back to her, closing the distance without hesitation. “Sit.”
“Hard no.”
Aleksy didn’t slow. Didn’t soften.
He stepped into her space, one hand bracing lightly—firmly—at her uninjured shoulder and guided her down onto the edge of the table behind her.
Not rough. Not gentle. Just—decisive.
Her eyes flashed. “Bossy.”
“You’re bleeding,” he returned. “I am allowed to be bossy when you are bleeding.”
That shut her up.
He opened the kit, movements precise but tighter than usual as he pulled out gauze, antiseptic, tools—everything he needed.
His control sat just under the surface, barely intact.
“Hold still,” he said again, and after a pause, added. “Please.”
This time—she didn’t argue. Just sat quietly and watched him.
Her gaze sharp and assessing. Like she was trying to figure out what he was doing beneath the surface, not just what he was doing with his hands.
He ignored it and focused on the wound.
The moment he touched her—she flinched. Small. Almost imperceptible. But he felt it.
His jaw tightened harder. “You should have let us track you properly.”
Her head tilted slightly. “Oh, we’re doing this now?”
“Yes.”
Because it mattered.
“You scent-baited us,” he continued, voice tightening despite himself. “Doubled back. Broke your trail so that we lost you.”
Her brows lifted. “And yet, here you are.”
Not the fucking point. Aleksy’s hands stilled for half a second before he forced them to move again, cleaning the wound with more care than his tone suggested.
“You got hurt.”
She went still.
Then—her eyes narrowed.
“Why are you angry?” she demanded. “I’m the one who’s injured.”
Aleksy’s control snapped. Not fully. Not dangerously. Never would he lose control and put their mate at risk. But it was enough.
“I am pissed because you got hurt,” he shot back, voice sharp, cutting through the space between them. “Because you were out here alone when we could have been with you—where we fucking belong—helping you, and instead we were chasing ghosts while you bled.”
Tamsin went completely still. The fight drained out of her posture in a way that didn’t sit right. Her eyes softened. Just a fraction then filled.
Aleksy froze.
“Don’t—” he started.
Too late. Her lashes lowered, breath hitching slightly as the tears gathered—
“No,” he said, sharper now. “No, that’s not fair.”
Because it wasn’t.
She didn’t get to—he stepped closer without thinking, hands stilling against her side as his focus snapped from the wound to her face.
“You don’t get to cry,” he said, frustration bleeding into something else entirely now. “You don’t get to do that after—”
Her bottom lip trembled. That was it. That broke him.
“Don’t,” he said again, softer now, rougher, the edge gone from his voice and replaced with something that sat deeper, heavier. “Don’t do that.”
Because he couldn’t—didn’t know how to—handle that.
His hand lifted without thinking, fingers brushing her jaw, then her cheek, grounding, steadying—
“Please don’t cry,” he said quietly.
Not a command or a play for control, just a request—a plea from him to her. He pulled her into him before she could respond, arms wrapping around her without hesitation, careful of her injury but not distant, not restrained.
Holding her against him, his head resting on hers. Because that felt—right. Not just right, but necessary.
Her face pressed into his chest, her body softening just enough that he felt it.
And then—
“You were mean.”
Aleksy blinked. “What?”
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes still suspiciously bright—but her mouth? Pouting.
“I’m injured,” she said, like that explained everything. “I should get a pass.”
Aleksy stared at her. Processing her reaction, rewinding the conversation and reassessing everything.
Then—her eyes shifted. Just slightly before that edge came back. Her expression turned cunning.
Not gone at all.
His breath left him in a sharp exhale that almost turned into a laugh. “You’re playing me.”
Her lips curved. “Maybe. Just a little.”
Aleksy huffed a breath, shaking his head once as something in his chest eased—not completely, not fully, but enough. “Unbelievable.”
His hand came up again, cupping her face this time, thumb brushing lightly along her cheek where the tears hadn’t actually fallen.
His gaze locked on hers.
“We won’t allow you to be hurt,” he said quietly.
Not a promise. A fact.
Her expression shifted again.
Not soft. Not yielding. Never that. But—aware. Before she could respond—Jarek stepped in, reached toward her, hands settling at her hips, and with a controlled, deliberate movement, turned her so that her back pressed into Aleksy’s chest, her body caught between them.
Aleksy stilled.
Not pulling away. Not loosening his hold. Because she fit perfectly between them, and that was exactly where she belonged.
Jarek stood in front of her now, close enough that there wasn’t space between them, his gaze dropping briefly—not subtle.
Her curves pressed into both of them, the contact immediate, unavoidable, heat building fast in the space between three bodies that suddenly felt too confined.
Aleksy’s breath shifted.
Lower.
Jarek exhaled slowly. “Jesus.”
A beat. Then he dragged his focus back up to her face. Before it went somewhere else entirely.
“Before I get distracted,” Jarek said, voice rougher now, controlled only just, “you’re going to explain something to me.”
Tamsin’s head tilted slightly, not intimidated, not backing down despite where she stood. “Am I?”
Jarek’s gaze sharpened. “Yes.”
A pause.
Then—
“How the hell did you shut the connection off?” he asked. “And how have you been doing it this whole time?”
The question hung there.
And for the first time since they’d found her—they weren’t just reacting. They were starting to understand what she was capable of.
She didn’t move out of them.
Just ... stayed exactly where she was—back against Aleksy, Jarek in front of her, like she’d decided the space was hers and they were just going to have to deal with it.
Her gaze flicked between them, slow, assessing.
Then her lips curved. “There’s a reason I can shut it off.”
Jarek’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah?”
Aleksy’s hold didn’t loosen.
“If you want the answer,” she continued, tone light—too light—“you’re going to have to earn it.”
A beat.
Then Jarek’s grin came back.
“Told you,” he said, glancing at Aleksy. “She needs us.”
Tamsin snorted.
Actually snorted.
“No,” she said, flat and immediate, rolling her eyes like he’d personally offended her. “Don’t start.”
Jarek’s brow lifted.
Aleksy’s grip tightened—just slightly.
“Then what?” Jarek asked.
“Take me to Elara,” she said.
Jarek stilled.
Aleksy went quiet behind her.
And Tamsin held their gaze, unflinching. “It’s her help I need.”
****
The truck didn’t stop at the front of the E.S.E building.
Tamsin felt the shift before she saw it—the subtle change in direction, the controlled descent as the vehicle angled down into a secured underground entry point that didn’t advertise itself to anyone who wasn’t looking for it.
“Subtle,” she muttered, gaze tracking the reinforced doors as they opened without hesitation.
Jarek huffed a quiet breath. “Not really the point.”
No. It wasn’t. The point was all about safety, security, and protection. That much was clear. The doors sealed behind them with a heavy, final sound that echoed through the concrete space, the kind of sound that said you’re not getting in here without permission.
Or out.
Her lips curved faintly. “Comforting.”
Aleksy cut the engine, already stepping out. “Efficient,” he corrected.
Tamsin followed, rolling her shoulder once as she stepped onto solid ground, ignoring the pull of the injury, the fatigue sitting just beneath the surface now that the fight was behind her.
Her gaze lifted, taking in the structure around her.
Everything about the space was deliberate—nothing wasted, nothing decorative, everything built for function. She liked it. Didn’t trust it. But she liked it.
“All right,” she said, stepping forward without waiting for them. “Show me what you’re working with.”
Jarek’s grin was audible in his voice. “Bossy.”
She didn’t look back. “Competent,” she corrected.
They moved through the secured level and into the building proper, access points opening ahead of them without pause. Tamsin tracked everything automatically—cameras, angles, personnel movement, the rhythm of the place.
The elevator ride was short. Filled with the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, just—comfortable.
When the doors opened, Jarek and Aleksy stood back, waiting for her to exit first, so she stepped out. Their floor was different from what she expected. Less clinical and much more lived in
It was still controlled, with visible elements of security throughout their space—but personal in a way the lower floors of the building weren’t.