Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Charlotte
It’s hard to leave Lukas with Cormac and Miriam, but I’m a wreck, and a meltdown is inevitable.
The shower is as impressive as the rest of the mansion, and rather than enjoying the multitude of sprayer settings, I end up sitting on the tile floor, trying to keep it together.
I swear to God, I’m working on being the best mom I can be.
I made mistakes when I was younger, but as soon as I found out about Lukas, I cleaned up my act. I’ve spent years trying to build a better life for the two of us.
I just don’t know if it’ll ever be enough.
I want Lukas to have a family and people outside of me that care for him.
That feels impossible with my baggage.
It’s what’s held me back from looking for a pack these last three years.
Even if I could find alphas who were open to adopting Lucky, it wouldn’t be fair to them.
The chance Blade’s guys could catch up is too great a risk.
They wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter my entire new family in retribution for what I did to their president.
My brain is my worst enemy, telling me all the things my kid will miss out on in life because of the mistakes I made.
I cry it out until I don’t have any tears left. A cold, numb feeling starts to set in. I’m exhausted from constantly having to look over my shoulder.
Most normal packs wouldn’t have a chance against Blade’s guys, but Cormac and his brothers would.
You don’t even know for sure that it’s the Demons that are in town…
Not without a shadow of a doubt, but the chances are strong that it’s Blade’s MC.
Who else would be riding around on a motorcycle in the dead of winter in Boston?
No one with half a brain…
Not unless they had something to prove.
I spend way too long feeling sorry for myself in the shower, so I rush through getting dressed and give myself a final once-over in the mirror.
My face is puffy and swollen, but I didn’t bring my makeup bag in with me last night.
There’s no way I don’t look like a jump scare, and I formulate a plan to go out to my SUV to grab Lucky’s action figures and a few things for myself.
I’m just walking out the door when my phone rings.
I snatch up the phone and answer the call. “Lacey?”
“Are you okay?” she asks.
There’s a man’s voice in the background, but it’s muffled, and I can’t tell what’s being said.
“I’m here,” I say, fighting to keep my frustration from spilling into my tone. “Why didn’t you warn me that you were attacked?”
“Shit,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry. It is my story to tell, but it also isn’t, if that makes sense. Grim handled the guys who attacked me, and I was hoping that was the end of it. That you wouldn’t ever have to interact with the O’Connors.”
“How in the world are you tangled up with the mafia, anyway?” I ask, because I’m still having trouble processing that.
“My mom married into one of the families, but I haven’t had much to do with them, at least until recently.” She sighs. “Look, I don’t want to say too much on the phone. You’ll be safe with Patrick. Wilder swears he’s a good guy.”
Wilder…
Her stepbrother turned boyfriend.
She mentioned a little about him when she first called to warn me.
Yeah, I’d say Lacey has the bad-boy rose-colored glasses on.
Not that I can judge her.
Been there, done that.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she says. “If you’re not comfortable there, you could come stay with us—” A smacking sound fills the air, and Lacey squeaks.
“Sorry, baby girl,” a male voice says. “We’re enjoying our bonding honeymoon phase. I’m not trying to have any guests roaming around the house that would keep us from fucking in the kitchen.”
“Callum!” Lacey squeaks, sounding muffled. “Sorry about that, Charlotte. Don’t listen to him. If you feel unsafe, we’re more than happy to have you.”
Little does she know, I’m probably the cause of why she’s in danger in the first place.
“I’m good here for now, but thank you.”
I pull the door closed behind me, psyching myself up to ask someone where I’ll find my SUV.
“Charlotte.” The deep, growly voice belongs to Malachy.
My head whips in the direction of the sound, and the massive alpha swaggers closer with a level of grace that makes no sense at his size.
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he’d fit in just fine at an MC. His brown beard is thick and curly and long as hell. The brown hair on the top of his head is straight and so long that it flops over his forehead and into his eyes.
He’s clad in a pair of light-wash jeans and boots, but no shirt. Mandala tattoos cover both shoulders in a snowflake pattern, while some type of winged beast takes up most of his chest.
That might be a chimera.
His left hand is another mandala that turns to geometric shapes and patterns that run up his forearm. He has a few others strewn across his lower stomach, but they disappear into the waistband of his jeans, making it impossible to tell what they are.
“Hey,” I say, swallowing thickly. “You, uh, forgot your shirt.”
Wow.
That was helpful.
He chuckles.
“Someone bumped the heat up, likely so you and Lukas wouldn’t be cold, but I run hot. I pulled it off because I was sweating. I’m more worried about you. What’s wrong?” His massive hand moves to cup my cheek.
His electric scent hits my nose, and he wasn’t lying about being sweaty. His smell is everywhere—chaotic and stormy and delicious.
“I shouldn’t go out without makeup, it’s a known fact. I scare people when I do.” I laugh weakly, trying to force a lightness that I don’t feel.
“Don’t do that.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “You don’t need to make jokes to deflect from your feelings. If I ask, I expect the truth.” That light Irish accent of his rolls through his words.
My eyes ache, and I clench them shut to hopefully force away the tears.
I’m never this emotional.
I pride myself on being tough enough to get through any crisis. There’s always time to break down when you’re on the other side, picking up the pieces.
The long-term exhaustion must be getting to me.
“Talk to me, little one. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He keeps his voice low and soothing, and every cell in my body aches to melt into him.
So I do.
Actually, I chuck myself at his chest, burying my face in his bare skin as my eyes pop open. His palm slides across my cheek and into my hair as I move, and my instincts hum in approval at the way his fingers cradle my skull.
“I’m sorry. I swear I’m not usually such a wimp.” My nose dances around his skin, searching for where his scent is strongest. “You smell like safety, and I’m really frazzled.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve been through a lot,” he murmurs, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek to the top of my head. “I just need you to point me at whatever you’re running—”
“Ah, there the two of you are,” Patrick says, appearing on the stairs at the end of the hall. He hasn’t even hit the second-floor landing, but his head tilts, making his thick blond waves fall over his forehead. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” I say quickly, trying to take a step back.
“Yeah, well, ya did,” Malachy growls, pulling me closer with his hand on my hip and the other in my hair.
“You didn’t reply to my texts. I’ve spent all morning bouncing between calls from Wilder and Emory Moretti,” Patrick says calmly.
“Why the fuck is Moretti calling you?” Malachy snaps. It’s so loud that I jump, and he frowns, tilting his face down to mine. “I didn’t mean to frighten ya.”
“It’s okay.” I pat his hairy chest, but my instincts aren’t worried about me.
All I can focus on is how to soothe the angry alpha.
Omegas are coded to calm alphas. It’s hard to explain, but it’s almost like an itch I can’t scratch when I can sense someone is upset or angry. My system won’t let me relax until I find a way to soothe them.
“I’d love to tell you why I’ve had the pleasure of talking to Moretti, not once but twice this morning.
Why don’t the two of you meet me in my office?
I’m going to grab Cormac.” Patrick smiles, sliding his hands on the banister and leaning toward the top of the stairs.
“You can take a few minutes and get back to whatever the two of you were up to before I interrupted.” He winks and spins around.
“I have to watch Lucky. I won’t be able to sit in on whatever meeting you’re having,” I call after him.
Why would they even want me there to begin with?
“Good luck prying him away from Mimi,” Patrick says with a snort as he disappears from sight. “This involves you, but if you’d like us to discuss it without you… I’m used to making calls for my family, I can do the same for you.”