Page 52 of Into the Fire: Before

“Um,” I said, unsure exactly what he was waiting on. Did he expect me to reimburse him for the gear? Fat chance. “Anything else?”

Caine swallowed. “I’m…”

I arched a brow. “You’re…”

“I’m sorry.”

Well, that could encompass a whole myriad of items, now couldn’t it. I stood there, unmoving, silent, waiting for him to continue. He sighed softly through his nose, not meeting my eye. “I’ve behaved poorly since you moved in. Gave you grief you didn’t deserve for my own reasons.”

“What reasons?”

“Bad ones.” He glanced my way, just for a moment, before looking forward again. “I’m…not on alpha supplements. No blockers, no suppressants. Nothing. It makes moving about in the world…difficult. And exhausting.”

My heart clenched, and my fingers did the same around the board I still held in my hands. “That’s why you stay upstairs, doing the landlord stuff for Lin?”

Caine nodded. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around an omega. Just…” He shook his head. “It’s just riled my alpha a bit.” He finally met my gaze. “I’m working on holding him down. Promise.”

I appreciated that he didn’t promise to be better or not be his grumpy self again; it wouldn’t have been authentic. But a consistent effort…that was a promise he could deliver.

“Can I ask a question?” He didn’t speak, but gave a single small nod as permission. “What’s…that like? Being completely off the supplements?”

He didn’t answer right away, looking down at the ground, heel bouncing slightly with agitation. For the first time, though, it didn’t feel like he was agitated at me. Not outright at least.

“When you’re on the supplements,” he started, voice gruff, “your wolf is like a passenger in the car you’re driving. It can give its opinions, can try to convince you where or how to drive, but ultimately you—the human you—is in control. You get to decide.

“Without the meds, you and your passenger are fighting for who gets the wheel, who gets the gas and brakes. When your wolf reaches over and tries to turn the wheel a direction you don’t wanna go, you have to wrestle it away from them. Or sometimes they…they’ve cut the brake lines so you can’t slow down. Sometimes you manage to keep them in line. Sometimes…”

I swallowed, looking down.

“It’s not an excuse,” he continued, voice low. “Just context.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

He gave a single, terse nod. “Right.”

“Riiight…”

Caine took a step back. “Well.” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking anywhere but at me in the doorway. “If I catch you skating without that gear, you’re signing a fucking waiver.” And with that, he turned and strode for the lobby and the staircase beyond.

Leaving me standing in my open doorway, clutching my skateboard, with a counter full of brand new gear behind me.

One thing was for sure. Absolutely none of us hadthison our bingo cards. Guess that made me oh-for-three.

Eighteen

Brooks

Sundaymorning,Iprayedfor only one thing: tonotget a cancelation text. Four days of twelve-hour shifts meant I hadn’t seen Taryn since before that fucking alphahole had followed her home. Had fuckingattackedher.

Caine hadn’t been able to even stay in the room when Lin relayed Wednesday’s events to me, and Lin had been as angry as I’d ever seen him. Me too, honestly. It was hard to believe circles like the ones Brea described still existed. I ached to think of either of them touched by such vitriol.

After everything, I needed to hold Taryn. Feel her.Smellher.

I was a beta. Her scent signature shouldn’t stand out to me. Most other scents, I barely registered unless it was a small space or the person was super agitated about something. But Taryn…that smooth, luscious toffee fragrance floated in and out of my dreams. I wanted to pour her into my coffee and scoop her up for dessert.

When my phone dinged in the afternoon, my heart damn near exploded from my chest.

Please please please please plea—YES.

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