Page 36 of Pack Owned
Bingo!
A sprawling garage bathed in the dim glow of fluorescent lights. Motorcycles gleam under the harsh light, surrounded by enough luxury cars to make a car dealership jealous.
“Wow,” I breathe out, the word slicing through the silence like a knife.
Every Saturday morning, we spent hours in his garage, the air thick with the rhythmic whir of drills and the clangs of wrenches. He patiently explained the intricate workings of an engine, his calloused hands guiding mine as I tightened a bolt or wiped down an oily rag. His laughter would fill the space, chasing away the worries of my world.
A hollow ache in my chest burns. The memory of his gaunt figure, ravaged by chemo, flashes in my mind. The once vibrant blue of his eyes dulled by pain, his smile strained as he tried to hide his weakness from me. The last time we worked on his 1970 stingray, the wrench clattered to the floor as his strength gave way.
Tears prick my eyes, blurring the image before me. The gleam of motorcycles, the sleek lines of luxury cars—none of it matters. All I see is the faded oil-stained toolbox pushed against the wall, the one Dad wouldn’t let anyone touch but me and him. Dad would’ve loved a shop like this. A sob catches in my throat.
“Dad,” I whisper, the word a choked plea echoing in the cavernous garage. The silence that answers feels deafening, a cruel reminder of the empty space he left behind. A space that not even all the money in the world, not even this opulent mansion, can ever fill.
“Kayla, food’s here,” Liam’s voice from somewhere in the mansion draws me back out of the garage’s threshold. Scrubbing a hand over my eyes, I close the door and retrace my steps to the kitchen.
The sharp scent of spices and soy sauce hits me the moment I turn the corner toward the kitchen. By some miracle, I didn’t get lost again.
Mounds of Chinese takeout boxes are crammed onto the solid, dark oak table, and the smell of their contents calls to my neglected stomach. Liam and Dane are both at the table. Liam’s blond hair is still damp from his shower, and my mouth dries. Did he know I was there? That I saw him naked, him pleasuring himself and?—
“Kayla,” Liam says, chopsticks dancing between his fingers with the kind of ease that’s borderline obnoxious. He’s demolishing a carton of Lo Mein with a focus that says, ‘This is serious business.’ “You gonna just stand there or come dig in?”
I walk toward them and pull up a chair between Liam and Dane.
“Yeah, there’s plenty. Help yourself.” Dane’s muscles flex under his tee as he scoops out noodles onto a plate, not spilling a single strand. I guess he has a knack for precision, something I figure comes in handy when you’re an ex-army medic patching up wounds under fire.
“Decisions, decisions,” I mutter to myself, surveying the culinary buffet before me. My stomach growls, a low rumble that probably registers on the Richter scale.
Liam glances up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Hungry much?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a warmth there that tugs at the corners of my mouth.
“Starving,” I admit, not bothering to hide my desperation. If I don’t eat something, I might shove both of these Alphas out of the way. Everything smells amazing.
“The spicy honey chicken’s killer, but there’s also sweet-n-sour, pepper steak…” Liam adds. “You name it.”
“Spicy honey chicken sounds amazing,” I say, reaching for the carton. There’s something about that combination of heat and sweetness that gets me every time. I dump out a portion to try.
“Good choice,” Dane approves with a nod, his eyes lingering on mine for a heartbeat too long. The air seems charged with something, but I’m not sure what.
“Better be,” I quip, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. “Or I’ll hold you personally responsible.” I flash them a smile as I add fried rice, edamame, and some pepper steak to my plate.
“Hey, I’m just the guy with the healing bullet wound,” Dane shoots back, the corner of his mouth twitching. “All complaints go to Chef Takeout over there.”
“Chef Takeout has excellent taste.” I grab a pair of chopsticks and open the package. My chopsticks hover over the spicy honey chicken, and I’m salivating before the first bite even hits my tongue. Then I dig in, a moan spilling past my throat at how delicious it is.
“Good, right?” Liam’s voice cuts through the fog of hunger that’s wrapped around my brain.
I nod, mouth too full to answer, but there’s a hum in my chest that feels like agreement. The tangy kick of the sauce, the tender bite of the chicken—hell, this might be the best thing I’ve eaten in months.
“Where’s Ryker?” I ask, nodding to the food. “Won’t this get cold?” Or is he even now arranging for Nexus to pick me up? I can’t dwell on that. I spear another piece of chicken, the fire of it spreading through me, reminding me that I’m here, now, and whatever comes next... well, I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.
“He’s on his way. Had to take care of some business is my guess.” Dane wraps noodles around his chopsticks like he’s eating spaghetti and not Chinese food.
“If he doesn’t hurry up, can’t promise there’ll be anything left.” Liam grins at me, and a flutter hits my insides.
I feel like I haven’t eaten in days, so I’m not going to stop until I am full. Besides, if I have to leave to escape Nexus, it’ll probably be better to have a full stomach. I make a mental note to raid the pantry later to see what provisions they have that I can take with me.
Ryker strides in, his footsteps heavy, his brow furrowing. I freeze mid-bite, a tangle of noodles dangling from my chopsticks. He zeros in on the decimated spread of Chinese takeout and picks up the nearly empty container of spicy honey chicken.
“Who went to town on my chicken?”
