Page 47 of Pack Owned
“You could say that,” I mumble, the sleep clinging to my voice like cobwebs. “Mornings and I aren’t exactly best friends.” Especially mornings that started with a near-meltdown over a misplaced alarm. “Though,” I add, a wry smile pulling at my lips, “the smell of bacon is a pretty good incentive to get out of bed.”
He chuckles. There’s a comfortable ease to being around Dane, a sense of normalcy I crave, despite the circumstances. He slides a plate toward me.
“Got a little bit of everything. Dig in.”
The food Dane’s whipping up smells like a five-star restaurant exploded in the kitchen, just like Dad used to take me to once a year on my birthday, all warm, buttery goodness. Despite the knot of worry tightening in my chest, I find myself piling my plate high with sausage, crispy bacon, and a giant slab of that golden brown French toast.
“Syrup’s on the table,” Dane says, tilting his chin toward a fancy-looking bottle.
I grab the bottle, the dark maple syrup glinting in the morning light. Expensive stuff, I bet. A far cry from the cheap corn syrup I’m used to. I drizzle it liberally over my food, careful not to drown it. The first bite is a revelation. Crispy on the outside, soft and custardy on the inside, bursting with flavor. I moan, a low rumble that surprises even me. Second helpings, definitely.
Dane finishes plating his own breakfast and joins me at the table.
“If you keep making those noises,” he teases, a playful glint in his eyes, “I’ll be cooking all day for you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. The word sends a jolt through me. It wasn’t a term I was used to, especially since Omegas are pretty much kept far apart from any unmated, unattached Alphas.
“This is really good,” I say, helping myself to another piece of French toast. Dad would be so envious of this meal. Every Saturday, we’d sit down and eat as a family... A wave of grief threatens to engulf me, a raw ache that never seems to fully go away. I blink rapidly, shoving another piece of sausage into my mouth to avoid conversation. Pushing down the memories, thewhat-ifs, sorrow threatens to spill over. Lately, it feels like the dam is cracking.
Dane is meticulously cutting his French toast into perfect squares.
This normal routine steals my breath. I can’t believe I’m sitting here, eating like everything is normal. I pause mid-bite, the French toast suddenly tasting like mush in my mouth.
Swallowing hard, I level Dane with a pointed glare. “So, what’s on the agenda for today? More keeping Kayla under house arrest?” I challenge sarcastically.
Dane holds my gaze steadily, unfazed by my sudden attitude shift. “We’re just trying to keep you safe, Kayla. Nexus is undoubtedly searching high and low for you.”
“Safe?” I stab at the remaining piece of French toast, yet my appetite is gone. “By keeping me prisoner?” I shake my head in disbelief. “What about my friends? My mom? I need to let them know that I’m okay.” As far as I can be, considering I’m stuck with three bounty hunters and one who seems to want to pitch me out and collect his pay at the first opportunity.
Dane frowns. “Using any phones or technology will give away your location to Nexus. They’ll be monitoring all communications of your loved ones.”
“Shit, you’re right. But I can’t just sit here forever, twiddling my thumbs and hoping for the best.” I push my plate away.
“Kayla,” Dane says softly. “Just give Ryker some time. He’ll come around and won’t turn you into Nexus.”
Standing, I pace the small kitchen. “Can’t I at least send a message to my mom? Something to let her know I’m alive?”
Dane sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s too risky. One slip, and they’ll trace it back here.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter, leaning against the counter. For the moment, I was safe here, but how long would that last? Howlong before Nexus either found me or Ryker turned me in to collect the bounty? I couldn’t hide here for the rest of my life.
Dane’s eyes soften. “We’ll find a way, Kayla. Just... not right now.”
I cross my arms, fighting the hopelessness threatening to swallow me whole. I have no choice but to trust him.
Freedom. Something I’ve never had. It’s what I’m running toward, or maybe it’s what I’m trying to salvage from the wreck of my past. With Dane and Liam, I’ve tasted a sliver of it, but the threat of Ryker handing me over to Nexus is like a noose that I can’t quite shake off.
“Where’s Ryker this morning?”
Dane’s expression doesn’t shift as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Haven’t seen him,” he states, his tone neutral, giving nothing away.
My heart thumps a little harder in my chest. Is Ryker working out a deal with whoever hired him, Dane, and Liam?
“Ryker does what Ryker wants,” Dane says, finally. “But you’re safe with us, Kayla. Nothing happens in this house without going through me or Liam first.”
I wish I could believe him, but I’ve experienced too many people saying one thing and doing another.
“Hey,” Dane says softly, reaching across the table, stopping just shy of touching my hand. “We got you.”
