Chapter 29 Kade
Chapter twenty-nine
Kade
Solana is beautifully flushed, sprawled over the couch with Moo-Shu on the floor beside her.
That was my only stipulation when I agreed to let the damn cow in the house.
Not in the nest and not on any of the furniture.
As much as she's fallen in love with the animal, she still needs her own space.
A place that's just hers without hoofprints and hay.
Dustin fucked her this morning when the storm woke her during a heat spike, the rapid onslaught of her heat telling me we’re out of time. However, I’m happy she’s letting her body have what it needs rather than pushing for sedation like she originally asked for in a fit of terror.
She's always watching though, those dark eyes taking everything in, never really asking for things, just observing and waiting to see what we'll allow.
It grates on me, that hesitation. The way she waits for permission before doing the simplest things, like getting a glass of water or opening a window.
I catch her sometimes, staring at something she wants, her hand reaching out before she pulls it back and looks around to see if anyone noticed.
Two days ago, it was a book on the shelf.
Yesterday, it was one of Dustin's flannel shirts draped over a chair.
Small things, insignificant things, but she can't bring herself to just take them.
Dustin noticed too. I saw him watching her eye that flannel shirt, his expression softening. Ten minutes later, he casually left it on the bed in our room, draping it where she couldn't miss it. She wore it for an hour before her heat spiked again, and we had to strip her down.
But she's getting better. Slowly. Yesterday, she asked if she could have tea instead of coffee. This morning, she told me she wanted eggs instead of oatmeal. Baby steps toward understanding that her preferences matter, that we actually want to know what she wants.
I'm working through some of the accounts for Morrison's shipment when Solana gets up from the couch. She stretches, the red dress riding up slightly on her thighs, before padding toward the back door. Moo-Shu immediately perks up, scrambling to his feet with surprising grace for a cow.
I turn on the security cameras immediately, pulling up the feeds that cover the backyard and surrounding property.
Old habits die hard from years of running less-than-legal operations, I guess.
Always know who's on your property, always have eyes on the vulnerable spots.
But now it's not just about protecting the business. It's about protecting her.
I watch Solana walk out toward the paddocks, Moo-Shu trailing behind her like a devoted companion.
She stops at the fence, leaning against the top rail to watch the horses grazing in the far field.
Thunder spots her and ambles over, probably hoping for treats.
Solana reaches out tentatively to stroke his nose, her smile visible even on the grainy camera feed.
She looks happy out there, surrounded by animals and open space and freedom.
I trust my ranch hands, but now I have someone else to protect.
Someone vulnerable who doesn't understand how dangerous the world can be, especially with the kind of business Dustin and I are involved in.
The cameras give me peace of mind, letting me keep an eye on her even when I can't be right beside her.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I move to take a seat at the kitchen table, thumbing through a few emails about Morrison’s shipment.
Everything is ready, hopefully, to go off without a hitch, and then I’m taking a long ass hiatus to focus on my pack.
I swipe through a few more things, losing interest when every hair on the back of my neck stands up.
Dustin walks into the kitchen, his phone clutched in his hand and his face pale.
Something is wrong. Very wrong. My stomach drops before he even opens his mouth.
Dustin doesn't scare easily. He faces down angry horses and dangerous criminals with the same easy confidence.
But right now, he looks like he's about to fall apart.
"Stefan says he needs me," Dustin cries, his voice shaking. "He's on his way over. I can't..."
He breaks off, his eyes filling with tears that spill over and track down his cheeks.
His whole body starts to tremble, his hand gripping his phone so hard his knuckles have gone white.
I've never seen Dustin like this, not in all the years we've been together.
He's the easy-going one, the one who laughs off problems and finds joy in simple things.
Seeing him on the verge of breaking down sends alarm bells ringing through my head.
"What the fuck is wrong?" I stand, moving around the table toward him.
Dustin can barely get words out, his breath coming in short gasps that sound dangerously close to hyperventilating. Whatever Stefan told him has him completely rattled. He tries to speak but only manages a choked sound before more tears fall.
I don't waste time trying to get answers from him. Whatever is happening, Stefan is on his way here and that means I need to secure Solana first. I grab my phone and dial her number, praying she actually took it with her.
She answers on the second ring, slightly breathless. "Kade?"
"Get back to the house," I say, my voice leaving no room for argument. "Now."
"Is everything—"
"Now, Solana."
She must hear the urgency in my voice because I hear her footsteps quicken, moving from grass to gravel. A few seconds later, her head pops around the back door, her eyes wide with concern. Moo-Shu tries to follow her inside but I point firmly at the porch.
"Stay," I tell the cow, using the same Alpha voice that makes even the most stubborn horses listen. Moo-Shu plants his feet and stays put, though he looks distinctly unhappy about it. "Bedroom, now, lock the door," I tell Solana, my attention split between her and Dustin's tear-stained face.
She sees Dustin and immediately moves toward him, her instincts reacting to his distress. "Dustin, what's wrong? What happened?"
Questions form on her lips, but I can't deal with what I don't even understand yet. Every second she stands here is a second she's potentially in danger from whatever is coming.
"Sweetheart, please," I say, putting every ounce of Alpha authority I have into my voice. "I'll explain everything but fuck, please just go."
She flinches slightly but obeys immediately, years of conditioning making her respond to that tone before her rational mind can process. She rushes past us down the hall, Moo-Shu managing to slip past me before I can stop the damn cow.
I hear their footsteps down the hall, then the bedroom door clicking shut and the lock engaging seconds later. She's safe, contained, and away from whatever shitstorm is about to walk through my door.
I return my attention to Dustin, who's still clutching his phone like it's the only thing keeping him upright. His face is blotchy from crying, his eyes red and swollen as he lets out a shuddering breath, trying to get himself under control.
Pulling my little Alpha into my chest, the sound of hooves galloping up the back way through the forest hit my ears. It’s not the steady pace of a leisurely ride but the desperate speed of someone running from something. Or toward help.
I pull up the camera feed covering that trail, the one we use for moving livestock and conducting business we don't want observed from the main road. The screen flickers to life, showing Stefan on horseback, hunched low over the animal's neck and riding like the devil himself is chasing him.
But it's what he's carrying that makes my blood run cold. An Omega slumped against his chest, barely conscious from what I can see on the grainy feed. Stefan has one arm wrapped around the Omega's waist, holding him in place while the other hand grips the reins.
Everything becomes a blur of motion. I move toward the back door before I fully process what I'm seeing, Dustin right behind me. His tears have stopped, replaced by the same focused intensity I feel.
The back door slams open and Stefan stumbles in, his arms wrapped around the Omega.
Blood stains both their clothes, though I can't immediately tell whose it is.
Stefan looks rough, his face pale and covered in bruises that are already turning purple.
There's a cut above his eyebrow that's still bleeding, dripping down the side of his face.
But the Omega in his arms looks worse. Much worse.
"Guest bedroom," I bark, already moving in that direction.
Stefan follows, the Alpha favoring his left leg, limping badly enough that I know he's injured, too. We reach the guest room as he carefully lays the Omega down on the bed, his movements surprisingly gentle despite his own obvious pain.
The young man groans at the movement, his face scrunching up in pain. He's pale, almost gray, his breathing shallow and too fast. Then he rolls over and pukes all over the floor, his whole body heaving with the effort. The vomit is tinged pink, concerning but not immediately life-threatening.
I step back to avoid the mess, my mind already cataloging injuries and assessing what needs immediate attention.
Bruises mottle the Omega’s face and arms, some old and yellowing, others fresh and dark purple.
There's a particularly nasty one on his jaw, swollen and discolored.
His lip is split, crusted with dried blood.
Both his hands are scraped raw, most likely defensive wounds from trying to protect himself.
Stefan sways on his feet, looking like he might collapse at any moment. I grab his arm and force him to sit in the chair beside the bed before he falls over and adds to my problems.
"What the fuck happened?" I demand.
Stefan's head drops into his hands, his shoulders shaking. When he looks up, his eyes are haunted in a way I've never seen before. "Charles Driscoll happened. Fuck. He's always been a dirty fucking bastard but this..."
"He did this to his own son?" The pieces click together. This must be Ashton, the Omega Stefan has been protecting. The one he mentioned a few days ago when Dustin stitched him up in the woods.
"No," Stefan says, looking up at me with those haunted eyes. "He started a fucking war he can't back out of, and I stole his son from the aftermath. I didn't know where else to go. Shit, I shouldn't have come here. Where is..."
He trails off, his nose twitching as he catches Solana's scent. The house is full of Omega in heat, impossible to miss. Vanilla and orchid and arousal mixing together into something that would drive most Alphas crazy. But Stefan just looks concerned, worried about adding to our problems.
"She's safe," I cut him off, knowing he's asking about Solana. "But right now I'm focused on you. Injuries?"
"Ashton's got a few bruised ribs," Stefan says, his attention going back to the Omega on the bed. "I don't think anything is broken, but on top of the stitches Dustin put in..."
I frown, remembering Dustin's emergency call a few days ago. The stitches would be fresh, barely healed. Any kind of impact could have torn them open again, which would explain the blood soaking through Ashton's shirt.
Dustin appears in the doorway with the first aid kit, his hands trembling so badly he nearly drops it. I know better than to grill him about his loyalty to his family right now, not that I have a problem with it.
We all do things for the people we love, cross lines we swore we never would. Stefan showing up here with an injured Omega is proof enough of that. The fact that he risked leading trouble to our door means he was truly desperate and out of options.
Dustin sets the first aid kit on the bedside table, letting out a pained sound, his eyes fixed on something below my line of sight. I follow his gaze to where his hands hover over a spot on Stefan's thigh.
The fabric of Stefan's jeans is soaked through with blood, high enough that it could be severely damaging. The placement alone makes my stomach drop.
"Shit," I mutter, moving closer to assess the damage. "We might need a doctor."
Stefan just shakes his head, leaning back in the chair. “The bullet isn’t that far in. Just a surface wound.”
My brows rise clean off my head as I realize the ‘war’ that Charles Driscoll might have just started wasn’t a euphemism.