Page 93 of Bonds of Fate

His next words are unshakable.

“If you decide to do this—for yourself, for your pack—I believe you will absolutely be the victor.”

It sounds ludicrous. Impossible.

“But I don’t know the first thing about combat.”

Arlo tilts his head knowingly. “I know for a fact that Gideon does. And Jamie, too, to a lesser extent. But that leads me to my second point. If they won’t teach you, I will. And if push comes to shove, you can come to me at Kennedy House. We will harbor you.”

It feels like a declaration. A vow. An alliance between their packs—one that Nix has no real authority to make.

And yet…

It feels right—and appreciated more than the other man could ever know. For someone like him, who has not had many choices, this is a valuable gift. “It won’t come to that, but thank you. What about your Baby-on-Board, though?”

“It’s my area of expertise, and I have a feeling you’re a quick study. I’ll leave you with this.” Arlo hands him a small black card, the words Sentinel Security embossed in silver on the front. Below it, in crisp lettering:

Arlo Davis, Director of Operations.

“Now you know where to find me. My personal cell is on the back.”

Nix traces the embossed letters with his thumb, wishing he had a phone, but he already feels like enough of a burden on his new family. For now, though, it’s enough just knowing how to reach his new friend.

He helps Arlo pull on his sweaters, carefully wrapping the scarf around his neck. The other omega just carries the cedar-scented jacket with a grumble.

“Overkill, Logan.”

As they near the house, Nix notices something. His pack is no longer standing at the doors, as they had been when he and Arlo left, and when they step inside, the scene has shifted.

A round of whiskey sits in various stages of consumption.

Finn has his laptop out, typing furiously and taking notes.

Riordan told them, then.

Arlo is their friend—someone they’ve known forever, and yet, to the last, their eyes keep drifting to his abdomen.

Nix supposes it must be an adjustment—seeing a pregnant man, but staring is still bad manners.

Frowning, he asks after his friend’s comfort. “Arlo, would you like some tea or juice?” Nix can’t remember if pregnant people can drink coffee, but he knows with certainty that he can’t have whiskey.

“No, thank you, Nix.” Arlo shakes his head, adjusting his scarf. “Dan, we should get home before the others come looking.”

“Right, you are.” Riordan exhales, giving Nix a small nod. “Nix, I hope you had some of your questions answered. I hope you’ll forgive me for not telling you sooner. As you know, it is not our story to tell.”

Nix meets his gaze and nods. “Thank you. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

He turns to Arlo, offering a small smile. “Arlo, stay well.”

“You too, Nix.” Arlo clasps his shoulder briefly, his expression warm. “And remember what I said.”

“I will.” Nix swallows, the weight of their conversation settling in. “Thank you.”

Jamie walks them to the door, and no one says a word, so Nix climbs onto Grayson’s lap and rests his head on his mate’s chest, feet under Leo’s thighs.

“You okay, baby?” Luca comes in from the kitchen, where he may or may not have been hiding. He’s got a skirt on again and has Finn’s button-up shirt tails tied at his tiny waist.

“Mmhmm. He’s having a baby. It smells like baking bread.”

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