Page 38 of Sawyer

“See the bakery?” She points at a corner brick building. “There’s a parking lot behind it where the arcade is. My apartment is above it.”

“Here?” Sin spits.

Here we go. A part of me wants to slap him and get him to shut up because, out of the three of us, Sin is more inclined to fuck things up. Rumor is second.

That is why our monarch called and asked me to babysit Sin. He knew he’d actually look once he told Sin to stop looking into the mountains. He also thought he’d drop Sawyer off somewhere and leave her there, not allowing her to help, though I’m not sure why the monarch thought Sawyer would be of any use.

He must know something I don’t.

“Is there a problem?” Sawyer turns in her seat to glare at Sin.

Don’t do it, man.

“Here?” he asks again. “It’s one mile from the slums, the place we burnt down just last night. The crime rate is through the roof, and you’re just living here. You need to move.”

“I don’t want to,” she says simply, hopping out of the SUV as soon as Rumor pulls into the parking lot.

“Damn it, Sawyer!” Rumor yells after her.

“I’m on it.” It isn’t the first time I’ve rolled out of a moving car, and it won’t be the last. I hop out and jog to keep from falling. Luckily, Rumor wasn’t going too fast, and it took little for me to keep my balance. “Sawyer.” I jog up to her just as she stomps up a steep staircase to a second-floor apartment.

The steps are rickety, and a few slats wobble and threaten to break under her weight. When I step on them, they nearly do. The entire building is older than dirt and is on a busy street corner.

Sawyer doesn’t wait for me as she opens the unlocked door. How did she survive this long? I bite my tongue because my bite isn’t on her neck yet, but it will be eventually…when my knot is locked inside her again and she’s screaming my name.

She steps into an entryway with stairs that lead up to apartments. There are only two on this floor, and it looks like only one above. At least the door doesn’t lead directly into the apartment.

“What are the odds I can get you to go downstairs and grab me a pastry while I change?” she asks as she leads me, still barefoot, to the corner apartment. Reaching down, she grabs a spare key from under the mat.

I blink at her in disbelief as she uses it to unlock her door.

“What?” she asks when I don’t answer her question or follow her inside.

Pick your battles.

If I want her to be mine one day, I need her to see me as more than just an alpha, so I curb every caveman instinct I have that wants to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of this building and somewhere safe, while having movers pack up all her shit.

“This building has a lot of character,” I say instead.

“That was hard for you, wasn’t it?” She turns to face me in the doorway with a smirk.

“Exceedingly,” I answer.

She pats my chest as though she’s petting a puppy dog. “Good boy.”

This. Woman.

“Keep it up, Sawyer.”

“Or what?”

I jerk my head to the side, unsure she’s ready for that answer. “Go change.”

“You were so close.”

“Have you noticed that our conversations always seem to occur at thresholds?” I ask her and step into her space. “I wonder why that is.”

Humming to herself, she spins around, her dark brown hair flipping over her shoulder. “Don’t look too deeply into it, Superman.” She turns to walk away, calling, “Make yourself at home and send one of the others for a pastry, will you?” Winking at me over her shoulder, she walks into a room.

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