Page 13 of Little Bunny

“Why?” Elijah bristled, pressing his hand against his hip, but had enough self-preservation to keep his distance. “I’m awake. I’m sober. I’m leaving.”

Slowly, Matias rose to his feet. He was a lot taller than Elijah remembered. “But you haven’t eaten yet.” He pointed at the bed.

He was definitely used to having his demands followed. “I’m not one of your men, Matias. I don’t jump at your command. I’m heading home. It was nice meeting you… I think.”

Just as Elijah was about to walk out the door, someone knocked. He moved back and to the left so whoever was on the other side wouldn’t see him. Matias stared at him as he answered the door but looked away when he opened it.

When Matias pulled back, he had a tray in his hands. He used his foot to close the door, and the most wonderful, mouthwatering smells hit Elijah hard. His brain had checked out, his body following those delicious aromas to where Matias set the tray on the bed. Matias lifted the silver domes off the plates, and Elijah was pretty damn sure he’d died and gone to heaven.

The plates were full—cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs with diced bell peppers and mushrooms, linked sausage, homestyle potatoes, and a stack of French toast, dusted in powdered sugar and topped with strawberries. There was even a tall glass of orange juice and cup of coffee to one side, a bowl of creamers next to it.

What was this, a five-star hotel?

Okay, so maybe he would take off after he’d eaten. “There’s no way someone whipped this up in the five seconds since you texted them.”

Elijah scooted onto the bed, ready to dig in, when Matias’s phone rang. He was trying to decide what to eat first when Matias snarled, “What the fuck do you mean Diablo is missing?”

* * * *

“He was supposed to meet me at my house last night, but he never showed,” Santiago said. “I’ve tried calling him multiple times, but it keeps going straight to voicemail.”

Matias glanced at Elijah, who was staring right at him. He pointed to the tray. “Eat.”

“Whoof,” Elijah replied, his response irritating Matias.

The kitchen always cooked a big breakfast. Most pack members either came in to eat or they’d never left from the night before.

They were wolves, their appetites ferocious. The kitchen in their tavern wasn’t an ordinary bar kitchen—greasy, small, and sometimes disorganized.

The kitchen at Sin & Steel was modern, with everything a cook could want and need.

Six-burner stove, industrial refrigerator with two ice and water dispensers. A large, chrome workstation, and a large, walk-in pantry that could hold enough food to feed a family of four for six months.

Since Matias’s pack consisted of two dozen men, wolves no less, the food didn’t last long.

He’d been tempted to fill Elijah’s tray with even more choices—gravy and biscuits, crepes, home fries—but the human was too skinny. Matias doubted Elijah could finish what he had before him.

Switching to Spanish, Matias asked, “Who was the last person to see or talk with Diablo?”

“Me,” Santiago replied. “I told him I had to take Percy home before we made that run. But he never showed or even called.”

The run. It wasn’t technically a run. Once a year, on the anniversary of his parents’ deaths, Diablo visited their graves. Matias had gone with him. He couldn’t recall how many times. Diablo cleaned the debris from their headstones, laid flowers, and said a prayer.

There wasn’t anything on earth that would prevent him from making the trip. He also wouldn’t go alone. Matias had ordered Diablo to always take backup since the graves were deep in bear territory.

Matias always called ahead and cleared the visit with the clan alpha. A call he was supposed to make this morning. “Why were you two leaving ahead of schedule?”

Santiago hesitated. Matias clenched his jaw.

“Do not make me ask twice.”

Santiago might be his second-in-command, his top enforcer, and one of Matias’s closest friends, but he didn’t tolerate shit being kept from him. Secrets destroyed packs, bred mistrust, and made it harder to lead. Matias liked all the facts before he made a decision, especially decisions that affected everyone he cared about.

His pack.

“He planned on chilling last night, but since he was kicked out of the room he was relaxing in, he decided to head out early.”

Matias clenched his jaw as he closed his eyes. He’d kicked Diablo out. Even so, it hadn’t been the wolf’s decision to change plans.

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