Page 71 of Claiming the Pack's Omega
“Nothing much,” Milo shrugs. “Just work, but I do that from home.”
I nod, flashing him a reassuring smile that just seems to send his gaze to the floor faster than if I’d said there were the secrets to the universe on the tile. With how intently he’s staring, italmost seems like he actually thinks he can find answers down there.
“What about you?” I ask Stone, walking to stand beside his hospital bed. “How’re you doing?”
His spicy pepper scent seems to shoot itself past my sinuses and straight into my brain, even though it’s dulled from the pain and exhaustion that’s obvious in his expression.
I can feel the eyes of the other guys on my back as I talk to Stone, but I ignore them.
I met Stone first. There’s this strange sense of loyalty I feel, tugging at my chest, when I look at him. The hospital bed underneath him looks far too small for it to be comfortable, under his bulky frame, especially with how battered and bruised he is.
“Been better,” he chuckles, wincing. His laugh probably tugged on the collection of stitches I know they must’ve given him. “My plan is to get out of here as fast as I can.”
There’s a tightness around his eyes that reveals there’s something deeper there, almost like he doesn’t want to be here or something.
Maybe he hates hospitals.
“I’m sorry for lying to you,” he says softly, his gaze not wavering from mine.
Another apology from an alpha. Two in the span of five minutes, that must be a record.
He means it, too. I can see it in his deep blue eyes, imploring me to believe him.
“I get why you did,” I sigh, offering him a tight smile. “It’s not like you could just go around the Southside announcing you were an undercover Northside cop.”
“Yeah, that probably wouldn’t have ended well for me.”
“Thanks, though, for apologizing,” I say, drumming my nails against the railing of the hospital bed. There’s a chip in the polish on my left pinkie finger.
Shit, I left all of my nail polish at the house.
I left a lot of my stuff at the house.
“Of course,” he says.
His expression makes me uncomfortable. He looks like he’s… concerned? Like, he’s concerned that his apology means so much to me.
Well, that’s not my fault. Blame that on all the other alphas I’ve encountered who step all over people like me and expectusto apologize for being in their way. I’ve encountered people like that all the time, even before I got into the work I did.
Jackasses have treated my dad like that at the shop. Douchebags have treated my mom like that at the diner.
“So,” I say, in a poor attempt at trying to change the subject. “Stone’s your real name, huh?”
“It is,” he answers.
“Obsidian is a stupid fight name for someone whose actual name is Stone,” I tease, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Hey, I thought it was decent!” He jokes back.
“Uh huh, sure. It’s very… on theme, kinda like how parents will name siblings. Here, meet River and Lake!”
His expression falls and I instantly know I’ve said something I shouldn’t have.
“Oh, shit,” Theo whispers from behind me. Thanks a lot, Theo, seriously not helping.
From the moment I met Stone, I knew there was more to him than meets the eye. His confident persona hid something else he worked really hard to keep covered.
There’s so much gut-wrenching pain I see in his eyes as he looks at me, it almost takes my breath away.
