Page 49 of Into the Fire: Before

“Is he locked up?” Caine asked.

I nodded. “Yes,” I answered. “I’m filing for a restraining order on both our accounts first thing tomorrow.”

“I have a friend at the courthouse,” Lin replied. “I can help you fast-track it, if you want.”

I gave him a weak, exhausted smile. “Thank you.”

The evening was catching up to me, and I knew to Taryn too. I wrapped my arm back around her shoulder. “We should get some rest. I’ll call Jennie to let her know you won’t be in tomorrow.”

“Brea—”

“No arguments,” I said. I looked to Lin—and, yes, to Caine, too. “One omega versus three alphas. I like our odds.”

The corner of Lin’s mouth twitched, like it was trying to remember what a smile looked like. “And Brea’s enough alpha for all three of us, so Ireallywouldn’t tussle with her.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, partially pleased at his assessment, but also partly ashamed. When it had mattered, Ihadn’tbeen enough alpha to keep my omega safe. Not when faced with a shadow from my nightmares live in the flesh.

I wonder what Olinda charges for an hour.

Nineteen

Taryn

Forabsolutelynoclearreason I could think of, I didn’t sleep well Wednesday night.

Thursday morning I was sore. Thursday afternoon my head hurt. Thursday night I finally slept. A bit, at least.

Friday I convinced Brea to go to work. She’d begged off on Thursday, rescheduling her appointments and pushing back a few due dates for papers and evals so she could stay home with me. But she’d worked too damn hard for this. It wasn’t going to slip through her fingers in the home stretch because of the asshole she’d run away from to start with. I doubted she’d have gone, except she double-checked that Caine would be upstairs all day, and Lin would be in and out of the area too.

I dozed on and off through the morning. I was working on convincing myself to eat something for lunch—my appetite had been weak at best the last two days—when Brea texted me.

Brea

Officer Norton phoned. We’re meeting him at the station tonight to finish the ROs.

She got home a little earlier than normal—she must’ve skipped her last lecture and caught an earlier bus. My head throbbed as we hopped in our rideshare and made our way to the station downtown. And it throbbed as we waited in the lobby, one of the fluorescent lights humming and flickering every few seconds. And it throbbed when they led us into a tiny interrogation room, all cinderblock and steel, half an hour later. And it throbbed when Officer Norton finally joined us another twenty minutes after that.

“I’m so sorry to keep you both waiting,” he said as he dragged the metal chair backward, the metallic scrape an ice pick in my ear that made me flinch.

“Of course,” Brea said. “Has the restraining order gone through?”

The officer flashed a tight smile. “Actually, I was having a little trouble locating Taryn in our systems.”

Something white hot stabbed right through me. I knew what was coming.

“You reported your name at the scene as Taryn Rose Maddox?” Officer Norton asked, tone conspicuously even.

I gave a curt nod.

“We don’t have anyone in our system with that name. We do, however, have a listing for Taryn Rose Lennox?”

Brea and I had been trying to think of a way to make our chosen surname legal almost since running away. We’d been chasing after a new life, so a new shared name seemed fitting. Brea Madison and Taryn Lennox became Brea and Taryn Maddox.

Informally. Socially.

Legally speaking, not so much. For one kind of huge reason.

“That’s me,” I confirmed, hot acid rising up my chest. Up my throat. Threatening to spew out over the beta cop across the table.

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