Chapter 6
The instant Montana dropped the bomb about Cleo’s family, it devastated Krys. He wasn’t prepared for the swell of emotions at the thought of losing her, and the one that hit him first was rage.
Why the fuck were they still looking for her family? We already invited her into the pack.
While none of these decisions were his to make, yanking her between homes would screw with her head.
Montana finished his beer and set down the empty glass. “We never stopped looking. We’ve had to be discreet so word doesn’t spread. Cleo doesn’t have any memories, so false claims could be problematic.”
“What kind of lead are we talking about?”
He shook his head. “Can’t say right now. My contact’s checking into it. He had a neighbor with a little girl who went missing that fits her description. Maybe it’s a coincidence. Reports might’ve been filed, so he’s checking it out. There’s a lot of guesswork since we don’t know her exact age.”
“What did the parents say?”
“We haven’t approached them yet. First we have to verify it’s not a false lead. I don’t want to raise their hopes only for them to find out it’s not their kid.” Montana rubbed his jaw. “She belongs with her family, but…”
“We’re her family.”
Montana sighed. “Not by blood. No matter how much we love her, if this turns out to be her mother, we can’t keep them apart. It wouldn’t be right.”
Krys couldn’t imagine life without Cleo.
She had a great laugh and sense of humor, but she was also serious and private.
Her thirst for knowledge made him feel guilty for not reading more books.
She was great with the babies, and even though she put off chores until later in the day, they still got done.
It had taken her a long time to come out of her shell and accept her new life.
Would moving set her back? What if she became a runaway and slipped through the cracks? Would she ever trust again? The pack had been her lifeline, and now they were about to sever it.
While the music played, they sat in silence long enough that their food order finally arrived.
Cleo wandered over and sat next to Krys when he scooted against the wall to make room. Montana moved over to let Archer in. Being the observant girl she was, Cleo picked up on the weird vibes, evident in the way she quietly flicked her glance among everyone while nibbling her burger.
Archer lightened the mood with comical stories, mostly about Krys. Like the time he rode on the back of a bear. Cleo giggled but seemed skeptical he would do anything that crazy in a bar.
She took another bite of her burger before setting it down. “Can we play pool?”
Archer leaned back. “That’s a hard no for me, but if you feel like a game of darts…”
“Nobody can beat you at darts. You’re like a dart master. It’s not fair.”
Archer gave a wistful smile. In his previous life, he used to be unrivaled with a bow and arrow. He stood and scratched his shoulder. “Fine.” He studied her plate. “I’ll play pool, but only if you take another bite of that burger. That’s pack money wasted.”
Cleo eyed the hamburger as if it were the enemy before reluctantly taking another bite. When she set it down, Montana touched her plate. “Do you want to take that home?”
She shook her head and stood.
“Are you sure? Mercy can wrap it up for later.”
Cleo stuffed her fingers into the pockets of her jeans, but the material was so tight she couldn’t get them in there all the way. “I can’t eat it.”
Montana pulled the plate toward him and picked up the burger. Meanwhile, Cleo followed Archer to a table and watched him rack the balls.
Archer sucked at pool, but that wasn’t why he hated playing.
It drew attention from other players since he lined up his shots using the stump of his left arm or played freehand with nothing to stabilize the pool stick.
Some people with disabilities excelled at sports, but Archer didn’t love the game, so he rarely played.
Krys ate another french fry while lost in his thoughts.
After Montana finished eating, he sent a text message.
Most likely to Robyn by the way he kept grinning at the phone.
It must be nice having a confidant. Krys and his cousin had always been close, but now that Archer was mated, Krys didn’t confide in him as much.
Couples told each other everything in private.
Montana chuckled while typing a message with his thumbs.
Those intimate interactions between couples isolated Krys, which was bizarre, considering he wasn’t a social pariah.
He had friends outside the pack, but what was it like to have an inseparable bond with someone you could bare your soul to?
If love was a drug, his packmates were high as a kite.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Montana noted. “Is something bothering you?”
Krys couldn’t find the words to answer.
Montana watched the pool tables. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you should know, since you’re the one who saved her. What happens is up to Tak. Blood is blood, and giving her back to her family is the right thing to do. We can’t be selfish.”
Krys couldn’t argue. When those Vampires kidnapped him as a boy, all he ever wanted were parents who were searching for him—who wanted him.
Krys didn’t hate his mom. She tried her best, but in the end, she chose to stand behind her mate and reject her son.
But he and Archer had one thing in common: shitty fathers.
Cleo clutched her pool stick while Archer attempted to hit the ball. She didn’t quietly snicker or roll her eyes. She understood he was doing his best and also knew he could kick her ass at darts. Everyone had their strengths and weaknesses, and Cleo had the wisdom to see that.
The thought of her leaving gutted him. She made him feel like he mattered. Would her parents protect her? Would they be patient if she had night terrors? Would they check the window locks to keep her safe?
“It’s probably another dead end,” Montana added.
Krys narrowed his eyes at a group of jackasses by the pool tables.
They were always instigating shit. While Archer lined up a shot, a man called Marvin tucked his arm behind his back and mocked Archer by trying to hold his pool stick beneath his armpit.
His friends cackled. Wolves were assholes when it came to tripods.
Three-legged wolves were perceived as inferior because their animals couldn’t fight or run as well as other wolves.
Those guys didn’t belong to a pack and were obviously envious.
Archer focused on the table, oblivious to the commotion behind him, but Cleo wasn’t.
When Marvin turned away, she rotated her pool stick around with the blunt end up, raised it over her head, and slammed it hard on the guy’s back. The shattering sound overlapped the music.
Before Marvin spun around, Krys cut through the room at breakneck speed, weaving around tables and knocking people aside. Archer pivoted with a nonplussed look.
When the asshole jerked the stick from her hands, he yanked Cleo with it. The second his fingers clutched the front of her shirt in a tight fist, Krys exploded with rage.
He knuckled up and punched Marvin in the jaw. The Shifter’s teeth clicked together, neck snapping back, blue baseball hat tumbling onto the table.
Krys gripped his wrist and detached it from Cleo’s shirt. “You wanna play? Let’s play.”
“That crazy fucking kid hit me!” He snapped his hand out of Krys’s grasp.
Archer hooked his arm around Cleo from behind.
As soon as Montana sidled up, Krys knew where this confrontation was heading. Montana liked playing mediator—that was his skill.
Krys’s skill was making men regret their life choices.
He punched the man again.
Montana jumped between them, arms outstretched. “Let’s calm the hell down,” he urged, his tone level and almost friendly. “Nobody wants to get blacklisted. That would be a damn shame.”
“Fine,” Marvin growled. “Let me get my hat.” When he reached for it, he grabbed a pool stick instead and swung it around so fast Krys never saw it coming. The hard wood cracked against the left side of his face.
A rivulet of blood trickled down to his nose and splashed on the floor as he bent over.
Game fucking on.
Krys flicked his eyes up at Archer. “Get the kid out of here.”
“Krys, keep your shit together.”
“That ship has sailed.”
Cleo writhed in Archer’s grasp. “Let me go!”
The feral look in her eyes was one he’d seen before—in his own reflection. When she saw the blood trickling down his face, she twisted free from Archer’s grasp and made a break for the pool table.
Still woozy from the blow, pain splintering his face and jaw, Krys couldn’t stop her.
Cleo pitched a cue ball at the Shifter. When it smacked against his wide forehead, his buddies erupted in laughter.
Calvin picked up a pool stick from the floor and joined the party. “Goddammit. What the hell are you jackasses doing back here? Marvin?”
Marvin, the head jackass, held his forehead while angrily wagging his finger at Cleo. “That crazy girl hit me in the back with a stick. Then she threw a ball at my head.”
Calvin folded his arms. “Why?” His terse question sounded like an accusation.
When Marvin lowered his arm, he revealed a dent in his head. “Forget it. Some crazy kid ain’t worth it.”
Krys surged forward, but Montana caught him. “So help me, if you call her crazy one more time, I’ll shove that motherfucking pool stick right up your—”
“Easy, boys,” Calvin snarled. “Nobody’s shoving my property anywhere unless they want to reimburse me for damages.”
Krys pulled out his wallet and slammed a twenty-dollar bill on the table.
Calvin scooped up the money and quietly strolled back to the bar.
Before anyone could stop him, Krys gripped a ball and threw it at Marvin’s chest. It made a sickening thump and must’ve cracked a rib. Fists were flying, blood spattered, and both men fell to the floor. Cheers erupted from all around—everyone loved a good bar fight.
His packmates seized his arms and dragged him toward the door.
Boot heels scraping against the floor, Krys kept his eyes locked on the Shifter the whole way. But before he could yell out a threat, Cleo nonchalantly gave Marvin the finger without so much as a backward glance.