Fury
If I thought it was busy earlier, it’s got nothing on the last ten minutes.
There are bodies from wall to wall, and I can’t figure out how to even get the servers through the crowd in order to grab the dirty glasses, since I’m running so low I might as well pull out the shitty plastic cups now.
Atlas and Skye would be a massive help if they could just get their asses out of my office, doing whatever they are, since it’s been going on for half an hour now, and no sign of either of them.
Though Atlas has made no secret of how long his damn knots last, so it could just be that they're… No, best not think, or I’ll be trying to pour pints whilst bricked up in tight jeans.
Deacon already waved me off several times and has tensed as I’ve slid past him a little closer than usual.
Told me to ‘keep my wolf cooties to myself,’ damn overgrown child.
I’m just concerned about my Albert getting caught in the zipper again; that is not a pleasant repeatable performance.
Atlas pops out of the side door, tucking his shirt into his jeans, his brows slam down over his eyes with worry as he scans between me and Deacon, holding down the fort.
“Have you seen our girl? She went in to grab my clothes and never came back in, figured she caught Deacon and he needed her for something.”
That same worry strikes me now, a peal of terror in my heart so deep it takes my breath with it, “Atlas, Deac’s been out here the whole time, it’s been too busy for either of us to get away.
” And I see the moment that it sets in for him, too.
Atlas can be a little slow on the uptake on occasion, but not now, now I see his instincts spiraling like mine.
See the fur blazing across the backs of his hands, claws popping as he struggles to rein in his wolf with gritted teeth.
Our Omega is gone. “She’s done it finally, taken the chance to run from us…
” The fear that spikes is only outmatched by the heartbreak that, despite everything, she’s left us at the first chance she’s gotten.
I don’t want to believe the alternative—that our Omega has been stolen from us, right under our noses.
Teddy would never forgive me, and Lucas would gut me in front of the rest for being a shameful excuse of a Cardinal.
“She wouldn't! I… I told her I loved her in the office.” Atlas pants out, running a hand through his long hair and clasping both behind his head. His chest is heaving, and he’s panicking badly.
I need to calm him down or get him out of here before he shifts and causes a disaster.
I really don't need the council breathing down our necks, too. Shutting his eyes, his voice drops to a painful whisper that I can barely hear over the din of the bar, “I told her I loved her, she wouldn’t leave after that, right?” Atlas is in my arms before a second thought, and I give him a tight squeeze, the taller, wider build of him feeling fragile against me.
“No, she wouldn’t have Atty, the way she looks at you, she wouldn’t have run, I’m just… I don’t want to think about what’s happened otherwise with that bitch being in earlier.”
Atlas sinks into the stool that Skye is on, and I turn to Deacon.
We’ve been friends long enough now to have a full silent conversation between us before a smirk stretches his cheeks.
A tick starts up in my jaw as I see the silver flash of his lighter slip out of his pocket, then he reaches towards the glasses on the upper shelf, holding the lighter before producing a piece of paper with the other hand and lighting it… Right under the fucking smoke detector.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Deac. I need clearing, not dealing with Fire and rescue.”
“Then I’ll deal with them, whilst you go find your girl.
” He smirks back in response, the wail starting up as the emergency lights flick on and a groan echoes through the patrons.
In a matter of minutes, Deac has everyone filing out in an orderly manner, leaving half-drank pints and food on the tables, the red flickering lights of the fire alarm petering out soon after.
I waste no time in bolting through to the staff room, inhaling deeply and letting it back out on a snarl.
That fucking BEAR. Butcher's scent invades the room subtly, like he’s bathed in de-scenters and taken suppressants, but it’s here; he should know you can’t hide scents fully from a shifter.
Especially not scents that our wolves have marked as danger.
Atlas bursts in behind me, and I can see his nostrils flare too before he looks at me.
“Butcher has her.” He roars, tearing through his fresh clothes and straight into his wolf form, snarling as he gets caught up in the t-shirt before tearing it away with sharp teeth.
Through the pack bond, I feel the little pulses of guilt, of pain, and know he’s blaming himself at least as much as I am, and it’s all I can do to ruffle my hand between his ears.
“We need to figure out where he’s taken her…
I have a feeling we should probably check across the road and speak to that bitch of an Alpha that kept our girl, don’t you?
” I feel his probing questions and a feral grin take over my face as I look down at him, “No, no, you stay just how you are, bud, we’re going in swinging this time. ”