Chapter 24
twenty-four
I try not to notice the tense set of Atlas’s features as we dress on opposite sides of our bed.
Honestly? Even with the sedatives he pounded last night, I’m amazed either of us slept at all.
I know that isn’t the reason for Atlas’s flexing jaw or my kinked-up shoulders. He can scent my stress and keeps shooting me furtive looks as he cleans his glasses and clasps on his watch. He’s chosen the one I got him for his fortieth birthday last fall—an antique Rolex, worth more than most cars.
He never cared about the cost, only that I spent half a year searching for the classic timepiece, determined my alpha should have the very best. The inscription didn’t hurt, either.
To Daddy. With all my love, for all time.
Ryker rolled his eyes so hard, I thought they would get stuck in his brain. Finn laughed about it all the way through the birthday party. It was the closest I’d ever come to seeing Atlas deck someone—and one of the last times our pack felt like a family.
Forcing down the pang that stings my throat, I finish buttoning my navy shirt and rolling the sleeves without returning my alpha’s glances. I know none of this is his fault—I know that—but, somehow, I can’t seem to forgive him.
“This will take time,” Atlas murmurs, quiet but firm. Reading my mind… despite the gut-wrenching fact that he’s feeling someone else’s emotions right now.
His deep, dark eyes wait for mine. That’s the problem with Atlas: his patience is endless, and I don’t ever truly want to resist him.
Knowing he will quite literally wait as long as it takes kills my nonexistent willpower. When I meet his gaze, he offers a small, wistful smile. “I hope one day you won’t be so angry with me, but I expect it to take a while. We have all the time in the world, my love.”
See what I mean?
The man is diabolical.
“How about forever?” I snap, scowling.
Atlas drifts around our bed, coming to stand in front of me. The longer I maintain my pissy expression, the more the sad curve of his mouth kicks into something halfway amused. “Sounds perfect,” he whispers, winding an arm around my waist and bending to kiss my cheek. “Forever it is.”
God. He’s been my beacon for so long… everything about him signals safety to my ragged nerves. I just want to sink into his body and never resurface.
But when I weaken, finally turning into his embrace, I catch his gaze trained on the door behind me. My nest.
I must have accidentally left it cracked open when I ran out yesterday, into all the commotion. Fuck, now he’ll know I was in there. Building my stupid pillow pile out of his pilfered shirts. Planning for a bonding that won’t ever happen.
The pain is too much—too deep and vast and permanent. I can’t process it now. Not with this hellish morning looming over us.
I shrug out of Atlas’s arms, refusing to meet his eyes again as I step around him. “Let’s get this over with.”
Of all the things I didn’t prepare for, I think this one might be the most shocking.
Because Violet isn’t in the bed I refuse to think of as hers.
She isn’t in the guest room at all.
Finn is.
Jesus. My best friend really is a shithead. He couldn’t even leave the traumatized woman alone for one night? Let alone, you know, take a second to think about how I would feel, waking up to find them together?
This traitorous bastard is worse than Maximus.
Who… is also missing.
For a moment, panic takes over. Is she actually gone? Did I scare her into leaving? Is she running to Briar? Or keeping her word and fucking off to God-knows-where? Without any transportation or money or even a single flip-flop?
The anxiety gnawing at my middle matches the lines etched around Atlas’s eyes. He’s definitely worried, but he seems confused, too.
Oh.
Because he can still feel her.
While I pause to breathe through another gasp of misery, he casts me a confounded look. “The bond isn’t—” he mutters, then corrects himself. “I’m not in a lot of pain, so she must not have gone too far.”
It’s odd, feeling murderous and relieved at the same time. I settle for rolling my eyes. “Oh, thank God.”
Atlas ignores my sarcasm and prods Finn’s foot. Our packmate jerks upright at our intrusion, snorting on an interrupted snore and flashing both of us in the process. “What the—”
When he rubs his eyes and sees us standing here, he instantly leaps to his feet, hissing, “Shit. My omega. Is she—”
“Missing,” I say, loathing myself for the small prick of pleasure I get from delivering that news.
Christ. I am better than this, aren’t I?
Maybe not. Perhaps that’s why the universe gave my alpha another mate. Because, surely, someone who thinks like this is a monster—one who isn’t even close to deserving a man like Atlas.
And… yep. There it is. Self-loathing and unworthiness spiral. Rolling in right on schedule.
Atlas may pretend he doesn’t care for my dark humor, but it was my favorite coping mechanism, once upon a time. Before I met him, and realized what actual comfort and support felt like.
Finn shuffles into his pajama pants and hobbles across the creaky floorboards. I don’t know whether he’s walking like that because he’s cold, or because he has a boner the size of a rolling pin. When he winces, I suspect the latter.
I suppose I can’t blame him. She’s his mate, after all—and her honeysuckle perfume is practically a mist of pure fucking sunshine, brightening every speck of musty air in this hallway.
Finn’s citrusy vapor sours with stress. He jams both hands into his hair, pivoting from left to right. “I went in there last night because she was so upset, but maybe I shouldn’t have—fuck. Where could she have gone? Gid, she didn’t even have shoes.”
Atlas still isn’t panicked, which tells me he truly believes she didn’t get far. It takes twenty minutes for us to clear every conceivable space before he blows out a ragged exhale. “The only room we haven’t checked is—”
Ryker.
Because when I said we looked in every conceivable place, I most certainly did not count his domain as one of those.
The thought of scary, silent Ryker getting anywhere near Violet evaporates any smugness I felt a moment ago. We collectively have the same thought, looking at one another with wide eyes before we take off, practically running.
Alright, literally running.
Finn gets there first, skidding to a halt in front of Ryker’s closed door. We brace, each of us listening.
Oh God.
Cillian might actually kill us. What if I got his sister-in-law mauled before I even managed to tell him we have her?
Atlas pushes out an exhale, pumping a reassuring wash of dominance over us as he turns the tarnished brass handle. The slab falls away, nearly bumping into Maximus.
The dog is curled up near the threshold, with his head on his paws and a wry look on his face that says he’s been expecting us. Normally, it might make me laugh, but I’m too busy trying to tape my brain back together.
Because my mind is blown.
“Holy shit,” Finn hisses, stretching onto his tiptoes to look over Atlas’s shoulder. “Are they… cuddling?”
It would certainly seem so.
Since Ryker’s mattress is on the floor, wedged between a rowing machine and a set of barbells, it’s easy to see just how entwined they are. Sure enough, Ryker is on his side, his body curled around a smaller figure wearing a very familiar purple nightgown.
There isn’t a single piece of them that isn’t touching. Her hips are tight to his sweats. His arms form a cage around her. She has her crown tucked under his chin; he has his fingers woven into her never-ending hair.
Our smoldering stress must wake Ryker up, because his head jerks up at an odd angle, a fierce snarl exploding from his lungs. Atlas growls right back, but only to snap our packmate out of it.
My Omega doesn’t understand, of course. Stupid bastard.
The furious sounds skitter down my back, landing in my gut with a slither of fear. Atlas instantly pulls me into his bigger body, purring low while he strokes my sides. “Sorry, little prince,” he murmurs, nuzzling the side of my face in a scent-mark. “You’re okay. Daddy’s not mad.”
Seeing me in Atlas’s arms must remind Ryker who he’s dealing with and why we’re here.
He rears back slightly, whipping around to stare at Violet.
At the sight of her sleeping face—and the crease forming between her brows—he shakes off his aggression.
The long legs threaded through hers flex, pulling their lower halves closer as he clears his throat.
Trying to speak.
Awe once again silences all of us as he struggles. In the end, he gives a frustrated huff and settles for a short whistle.
Maximus doesn’t appear surprised at all. He releases an exasperated breath and slowly gets to his feet, trotting to the corner. Leaving the entrance clear.
Letting us in, I realize.
And… yeah.
Like Finn said.
Holy shit.