Chapter 14 #2
She didn’t take the hint. Instead, she leaned in, lowering her voice just enough to pretend this was a private conversation, while maintaining enough volume to ensure half the parents loitering near the crosswalk could hear every single word.
“Well, I hope it’s okay to speak in front of her,” she cut a side-eye at Julia, then continued, “I just thought someone should say something before it becomes a pattern.” Her tone was saturated with fake sympathy.
“Liam came home yesterday and mentioned that Wyatt has been... well, a bit intense with the other boys during recess.” She sighed, resting a hand over her heart.
“And I know, given his situation at home, children from broken families sometimes act out. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
We all know what happened. But it does need to be addressed before he hurts someone. ”
A pissed off growl built in the absolute bottom of my throat.
I knew what she was doing. I knew what the town women said about Stetson’s son, about the pack, about the day Easton died, and about the scarred brother left behind.
About the two kids we had without being bonded and their lack of feminine influence.
I locked my knees and prepared to swallow the insult.
I prepared to absorb the hit the way I always did, because a real man took the burden and didn’t make a scene.
But before I could force a curt dismissal through my teeth, Julia moved.
Her polite, friendly smile didn’t disappear—it weaponized. All the warmth drained out of her posture, leaving behind frigid focus as she stepped smoothly between me and Melissa, putting herself directly in the line of fire.
“Melissa, was it?” Julia asked, her voice as sweet as honey poured over a bare blade.
Melissa blinked, caught off guard. “Yes, I—”
“Wyatt is protective,” Julia interrupted, her perfect composure never wavering.
“He’s observant. And quite frankly, he’s a better judge of character than most of the adults in this parking lot.
So if he’s being a ‘bit much’ on the playground, there’s a damn good reason for it.
We’ll gladly get Wyatt’s take on this after school, but I highly suggest you ask Liam if there’s a part of the story he conveniently left out.
Because I’m a betting woman, Melissa, and I’d bet someone started something they shouldn’t have before Wyatt got involved.
And if that’s the case, I do hope you’ll explain the difference between leadership and aggression to your son at home. ”
Melissa’s mouth fell open in outrage.
Julia didn’t give her a fraction of a second to recover.
“Now, if you have any further problem with Wyatt’s behavior, the school can handle it through the appropriate channels.
I’m sure they have security cameras on the playground.
But what we are not going to do is stand in a parking lot and dress up gossip as concern. ”
My brain practically short-circuited. Nobody ever defended me. Nobody outside the walls of the Double T ever defended Wyatt without the fear of making the gossip and rumors about our family worse. We just took it.
But Julia wasn’t done.
She reached back without looking, her hand finding mine. In full view of the school entrance, the lingering teachers, the watching parents, and Melissa Lawson’s hungry little audience, Julia tightly interlaced her fingers with mine.
I froze. Her skin was soft and warm, her grip fiercely possessive.
The sheer intimacy of her holding my hand tore straight through the cold, dead space in my chest. My pulse kicked hard as her scent burned right through her neutralizing lotion, hitting me with a dizzying wave of dark fig and black cherry.
And my Alpha answered it. The bitter, cold stone of my scent involuntarily warmed, flooding the space around us with the velvety notes of suede and the rich bite of dark chocolate.
Julia looked Melissa dead in the eye, her posture unyielding and fierce. “And for future reference, I’m not a placement. I’m Colt’s Omega. Have a blessed day.”
She turned away, using our locked hands to pull me along with her.
She dismissed Melissa so thoroughly that sticking around to argue would have been redundant.
The woman was nothing but an afterthought now.
But the hand holding mine was the whole point.
Julia had publicly claimed me. Not as a charity case or as a pity project.
Not as the scarred, broken outcast of the pack. She claimed me as hers.
I walked beside her, my boots moving mechanically over the pavement, while internally, the fortress I had spent three years building simply ceased to exist.
We didn’t hurry. Julia kept her pace steady and measured while her fingers remained locked fiercely with mine as we crossed the asphalt. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the slight, rapid rise and fall of her chest—the only physical evidence of the adrenaline surging through her veins.
But she did not let go.