CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - AXEL #2
He takes up a protective stance next to the daybed, while Colt curls up next to her, just like a sun-worshiping cat.
“Birdie,” I say carefully, “I’m trying to make sense of the events that led to the attack in the diner parking lot.
Do you have any reason to believe that General Booth sent Peak after you? ”
She bites her lip and Colt inches closer, playing with the trim on the cushion in her lap.
She keeps her gaze on me, but I notice her leaning a little closer to him, like she’s drawing comfort from his nearness.
“Not really,” she says quietly. “Razor didn’t mention him by name.
Just said I’d been bad for running away and he had plans for me.
We fought, he hit his head, and… he didn’t talk any more after that. ”
Her gaze has dipped to the cushion, and I can feel my packmates’ protective instincts prickling through the bond.
I can’t blame them; it would be bad enough hearing Peak’s name leave her lips, let alone his abusive moniker.
“If the general is involved, that changes everything for us.” Birdie peers at me from under her feathery bangs and I have to curl my hands to stop myself from reaching out to push them aside.
Her face was fragile before, but with the cut on her cheek and the gauze on her throat, I’m having a hard time keeping my hands to myself.
“Until we can confirm his level of involvement, I’ve decided to tell him that we’re pushing the mission out a week.
We want to make sure you’re settled before we go anywhere. ”
My packmates don’t look pleased to be leaving her at all, but I need to keep us focused. We get to the bottom of what Peak was up to, neutralize any outstanding threats, and then we can lay down some more permanent plans.
Colt squints up at me. “You think the general will go for that?” I have my doubts, but when I shrug, Colt leans forward, a sly light in his eyes. “He will if we tell him your rut came early. It’s due, right?”
“In a couple of weeks,” I admit, then cast a quick glance Birdie’s way. “But don’t worry, Birdie. All active-duty personnel take suppressants for them. You won’t even know it’s happening.”
“Exactly,” Colt says, sounding smug, “and neither will Booth. Because we’ll tell him that it’s a really rough rut. The suppressants aren’t working as well as usual, and you need a few extra days to recover.” He tweaks the end of Birdie’s hair. “We can blame Baggage.”
She slaps his hand away, wrinkling her nose in annoyance. “Why me?”
“Proximity to a compatible omega,” Colt says, grabbing her hand and tugging her towards him. Hog gives a rumble of disapproval, but Colt just bats his lashes at him. “What? We’re gonna pretend like her scent hasn’t lit us all up like tiki torches?”
Hog’s irritation dials down to a simmer, but Birdie looks at him with suspicious eyes. “What’s a tiki torch?”
“Bamboo pole and a stinky, bug-zapping flame,” Colt answers with a grin. “But the details don’t really matter. You’re under our skin, Baggage.”
He leans towards her again and this time she lets him, a thoughtful look on her face.
Like always, it’s hard to get a read on her emotions, but her scent has softened and Colt looks smitten.
But it’s my rut we’re talking about, and I’m not sure how she feels about being dragged into that, even if it’s just an excuse to keep the general off our backs. “Are you okay with that, Birdie?”
She turns her thoughtful look my way and I have to resist the urge to stand up straighter. “If we get more time here, say whatever you need to.”
I study her a moment longer, then nod. “Okay. I’ll go call him. No video, so he can’t pick up on our location. If he asks for details, I’ll tell him I’m in rough shape and cut the call short.”
The guys still don’t look thrilled, but they turn their attention back to Birdie as I leave the room.
I’m getting things ready a few minutes later when there’s a tap at the door and I’m surprised to find her standing in the hall.
She can’t quite hide her tension, and I look at her in concern. “What’s up?”
She peers around me, her brow furrowed. “You're calling him now? The general?”
“Yeah, unless you need anything.”
She pauses, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “If you’re not on video, can I sit in?”
I hesitate for only a second, then wave her inside.
It’s more of a nook than an office and I move a cardboard box off the tiny sofa so she can sit down.
The room consists of a small desk and an office chair, plus an antique wooden filing cabinet that Hog restored a few years ago.
The room smells of furniture polish and old paper, but Birdie doesn’t seem to notice as she perches on the edge of the sofa.
I nod towards the laptop on the desk. “He thinks we're still at the cabin,” I remind her.
“You want him to know you're on the call?”
She shakes her head, her hands clasped in her lap. “I just want to hear what he has to say.”
I’m surprised she wants anything to do with Booth, given what happened with Peak, but if anyone deserves to listen in on our conversation, it’s her. “Okay. I’m planning on keeping it brief. I’ve already sent him a text to say I’m in the middle of a messy rut, so…”
There’s a hint of amusement in her gold-rimmed eyes as she looks up at me. “You might have to dash away at any moment.”
“Yeah.” I grimace, since it still doesn’t feel right that I’m dragging her into my deception. Shaking my head, I place the call, and we pass the usual pleasantries before the general mentions Birdie. “How is she? Has she settled in?”
“She’s fine.” I glance in her direction. “We’re looking out for her.”
He chuckles. “I’m sure she’s loving the attention.
Three alphas, all to herself in a remote cabin.
It’s any omega’s dream.” I quirk a brow at her, but she’s staring fixedly at the blank laptop screen.
“Is she talking more?” Booth goes on when I don’t comment.
“What does she have to say for herself?”
“She’s quiet, but then, we’re all still grieving.
” I watch Birdie fold herself a little smaller on the sofa and feel my hackles rise.
He’s the one who put it into her head that we needed fixing, diminishing her own personal loss in the process.
“Losing a mate or a sibling isn’t something you can just distract yourself from, General. ”
“Of course.” There’s a note of condescension in his voice. “But it’s our duty as pack alphas to pull things together. We don’t want to strain our bonds more than they already are.”
Strain? When Charlie died, the mating bond didn’t snap like a guitar string or unravel like a wayward shoelace.
It tore. It gushed. It lacerated like an amputation.
Maybe Booth doesn’t get that. Maybe he hasn’t experienced a profound loss of his own.
But he shouldn’t be making flippant statements about ours, for fuck’s sake.
Angry words hover on my lips, but duty makes me swallow them down. And isn’t that the kicker? Because the real wronged party in this room is the omega staring at me with haunted eyes.
“I need to know more about Birdie,” I say abruptly, watching her gold-flecked gaze widen. I hate putting her in this position, but I need answers, damn it. “Where was she before? How was she treated? Is that something you can help me with, General?”
I’m fighting a losing battle to keep the hard edge out of my voice, but if he notices, he brushes it off with a grunt. “Like I told you before, I’m not across privy to details.”
“What about Peak?” Birdie’s giving me a horrified look, but I plow on. “Can I talk to him? Maybe he can fill in a few of the gaps.”