Page 29 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

I stared up at the sprawling house as we approached—a modern interpretation of a craftsman style, all clean lines and natural materials. Warm light glowed from several windows, the structure somehow managing to look both imposing and welcoming simultaneously.

"Your pack lives here? All of you?" I asked, trying to imagine Reeves, Lucas, Theodore, and Collins sharing a space without killing each other.

Collins nodded, pulling into a circular driveway. "It's practical. Safer. Pack instinct."

I studied his profile in the dim light of the car, the strong line of his jaw, the tension still evident in his shoulders. "And you're just bringing me here? To your den? Isn't that against some kind of Alpha code?"

A faint smile touched his lips. "You'd prefer a motel with paper-thin walls and a broken lock?"

I didn't answer, not trusting myself to speak as the implications of being brought to an Alpha pack's den settled over me. This wasn't standard procedure—not by a long shot. This was personal.

Collins shut off the engine and turned to face me fully. The cut above his eyebrow had stopped bleeding but left a dark streak down the side of his face. Despite this, he radiated a calm authority that somehow managed to be reassuring rather than intimidating.

"Vivian," he said, his voice low and serious. "I know this is overwhelming. I know your world has been turned upside down. But right now, my priority is keeping you alive. This is the safest place for you."

I met his gaze, searching for any hint of deception and finding none. "Why go to all this trouble for me? I'm just a florist.”

Collins studied me for a long moment, his blue eyes searching my face. "You're not just a florist, Vivian. You're a witness. A potential target. And..." he paused, something flickering in his expression, "you're under my protection now."

The way he said it—my protection—sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. There was something possessive in his tone that should have set off alarm bells, but instead, it felt strangely reassuring.

"Come on," he said, breaking the moment. "Let's get you inside before you collapse."

Only then did I realize how badly I was trembling, delayed shock setting in as the adrenaline drained from my system. I fumbled with the seat belt, my fingers suddenly clumsy and uncooperative.

I was exhausted and I just needed to process what happened today. I needed to curl up in a nest and push the rest of the world out. I just hoped the rest of the night would be calm and no more surprises would happen. I didn’t think I could handle anything else before breaking.

Chapter Thirteen

Thesmelloftheroom was unfamiliar yet calming—clean sheets with a faint hint of lavender and something distinctly Alpha that I assumed was Collins. I sat up slowly, my body aching in places I didn't know could ache, memories of the previous night flooding back in disjointed fragments. The break-in. The masked figure with the syringe. Lucas fighting. Collins bleeding. My shop in ruins.

I pushed back the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, noticing for the first time that I was still wearing yesterday's clothes, minus my shoes which someone had removed and placed neatly by the door. The thought of someone—Collins, presumably—removing my shoes while I slept made me feel strangely vulnerable.

The room itself was large and tastefully decorated in muted blues and grays. Minimalist but not cold, with a large window overlooking what appeared to be a wooded backyard. Across from the bed was a door that I assumed led to an en-suite bathroom, and beside it, a comfortable-looking armchair with my bag resting on it.

I frowned, trying to remember when I'd gotten my bag. Then I recalled Theodore mentioning something about retrieving my car. He must have brought it inside while I was asleep.

Standing carefully, I tested my legs. Sore but functional. I made my way to the bathroom, wincing at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, dark circles shadowed my eyes, and there was a smudge of dirt across my cheek. I looked like I'd been through hell, which wasn't far from the truth.

The bathroom was well-stocked with toiletries, including an unopened toothbrush and paste that I gratefully put to use. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I felt marginally more human. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, noting the dark circles under my eyes and the tension still evident in my shoulders. My purple hair was a disaster, and I tried to smooth it with my fingers, suddenly self-conscious about facing a house full of Alphas looking like I'd been dragged through hell and back.

I contemplated showering but decided against it for now, not wanting to spend too long hiding in the bathroom. I needed answers more than I needed to feel clean. Gathering my courage, I opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom, only to find Collins leaning against the wall beside the door, arms crossed over his chest.

I let out a startled yelp, my hand flying to my chest. "Jesus! Do you always lurk outside bedrooms like a creep?"

His lips twitched, though his expression remained mostly impassive. "Good morning to you too. I was about to knock when I heard you moving around."

He looked annoyingly refreshed, wearing dark jeans and a navy henley that stretched across his broad shoulders. The cut above his eyebrow had been cleaned and butterfly-stitched, but otherwise, he showed no signs of last night's fight.

"How long was I out?" I asked, running a hand through my tangled hair.

"About twelve hours," he replied, straightening from his position against the wall. "You were exhausted. Thought it best to let you sleep."

Twelve hours. I'd been unconscious for half a day while my life continued to unravel around me. "My shop—"

"Is being cleaned up as we speak," Collins interrupted smoothly. "Theodore oversaw the security repairs this morning. The insurance adjuster is scheduled for later today."

I blinked, trying to process this. "You've been busy."

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