Page 77 of Beautiful Scars

Heat creeps up my neck at his words. I didn't realize he'd paid that much attention.

"You should see Chase's work," Wolf says, tearing into a piece of garlic bread. "Guy could be selling in galleries if he wanted to."

Chase ducks his head, embarrassed. "It's just a hobby."

"Show her the one you did of Wolf sleeping at his desk," Jayce grins. "Drool and all."

"I do not drool," Wolf protests, but he's fighting a smile.

Just like that, the tension breaks. The conversation flows easy, punctuated by laughter and good-natured ribbing. They tell stories about each other, share inside jokes. I find myself relaxing despite everything. They make it easy to get drawn in.

Zane wasn't lying. Jayce is a brilliant cook. The pasta is perfect, the sauce rich and flavorful. I'm on my second helping before I realize it.

"Thank you," I say quietly to Z while the others are arguing about some movie I've never seen. "For everything you did today."

He meets my eyes, his expression serious. "You don't have to thank me. We take care of our own."

"Is that what I am now? One of your own?"

"You're under our protection," he says simply. "So, yeah. You're family."

Family. The word sits heavy in my chest. I'm not even sure what that word means.

"More wine anyone?" Chase offers, already reaching for the bottle.

I let the warmth of the food and conversation wash over me. For the first time since this afternoon, I feel my shoulders relax.

Maybe, this won't be as bad as I was imagining it.

After dinner, everyone drifts to their own corners of the house. Chase returns to his book, Wolf disappears into what looks like an office, and Jayce starts cleaning up the kitchen with Ty's help. It’s how I imagine a family operates.

Z touches my elbow lightly. "Can we talk for a minute?"

I follow him to a small study off the main living room. Books line the walls, and a leather armchair sits in one corner next to a reading lamp. Z closes the door behind us, and my heart rate picks up slightly.

"First," he says, leaning against the desk, "I want you to know I'm glad you're here."

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the room. "Did I have a choice?"

"There are always choices, Sunny." His gaze is locked on mine.

"Choices and options are worlds apart."

He nods slowly. "About that... Wolf pulled the security footage from around your apartment building."

My stomach drops. "And?"

"Someone's definitely been watching you. Following you." He runs a hand through his long black hair, frustration evident in the gesture. "We don't know who yet, but the cameras have shown cars entering the parking lot outside your building right after you pull into the garage. When you leave they leave. I had Wolf check and they always park so they have a clear view of your front window and door. It appears to be the same person, but it's hard to tell."

The room suddenly feels too small. I sink into the leather armchair, my legs unsteady. "How... how long?"

"That's the thing—we can only access footage from the past ten days." He leaves the sentence hanging.

"Could it be..." I can't bring myself to say Garrett's name.

"We don't know. But whoever it is, they know what they're doing. They keep themselves far enough away from the security cameras to make ID'ing them almost impossible. They change cars, change plates every other day. They aren’t an amateur. The only reason you knew they were there was probably because they wanted you to know." Z pushes off from the desk and crouches in front of my chair, bringing himself to my eye level. "Which is why I need to tell you something else."

I meet his gaze, dreading what comes next.

---