Page 76 of The Heat of Us

“Do you still have your key?”

“Yeah.”

I glanced up at the darkening sky. “Right. Let’s go then.” I held out my hand and Aleks stared at it. “Key,” I prompted. He dropped it in my palm and I closed my fist around it as I stood up.

“It just sucks, you know,” Aleks said, wincing slightly as his weight shifted to one arm as he got to his feet. “I’m just sick and tired of chalking his fucked-up behaviour up to alpha bullshit you know?”

Something in my chest lurched, a slumbering giant awakening from the deep unknown. “In and out, ok? Move quick and only get what you can’t replace.”

He nodded and we set off towards the house, our steps aligning.

An idea lit up in my head. “I assume you did most of the house maintenance? Cleaning and what not?”

“Yes,” Aleks scoffed. “That man would leave a dish in the sink until it became its own ecosystem.”

I gagged. “Thanks, I think.”

I slid the key into the door and pushed it open loudly. “Honey, I’m home!” I chorused, gesturing to Aleks that he should get inside quickly.

Aleks’ father looked nothing like him. He reminded me a bit of an old-timey muscle man, his limbs strangely out of proportion with his barrel-like chest. “Who do you think you are?” he barked. “You think you can just walk into my house?” I could sense his dominance rising, preparing to contest me.

I glanced at the fist-shaped hole in the wall beside me.

I thought of all the ways alphas used their designation to crush those they deemed weaker.

Of the way Hazel had looked at me when she trusted me to help.

(And truthfully, my parents).

The motivational gunpowder of a thousand rallying war cries was set alight inside me.

This alpha was nothing.

My voice seemed to split, both alpha and man speaking. “You are lucky that I’m only here to help him,” I thundered.

It hit him like a physical blow, his eyes widening as I won our battle of wills in his own home. He didn’t even realise Aleks had slipped past him, disappearing down the hall.

Now to distract the motherfucker to buy Aleks some time.

I pointed at the rug that was hanging on the wall. “This is nice,” I told him magnanimously. “You should hang it in the hallway, though. To cover that big hole you put in it. Aren’t rugs meant to go on the floor though?”

It was important that I kept moving, kept him off balance so he wouldn’t try and come at me physically. He was shaken by our contest and I couldn’t let him find his feet.

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat out.

“So rude of me.” I smacked my forehead, continuing to move through the house. “Remy. I would ask your name but honestly? I don’t really care. May I call you shit-for-brains?”

“You fucking—”

“Thanks, shit-for-brains.”

I dodged past him and wandered into the kitchen. Two of the dining chairs lay horizontal on the floor. I could see his absolutely piss-poor attempt at cleaning up the beer Aleks had thrown at him — a few squares of soggy paper towels sitting sadly on the floor.

He was really going to hate cleaning up what I was about to do.

“You need to get the fuck out of my house.”

I opened a few cupboards (without shutting them, of course) until I’d found what I was after. “Your son invited me.” I gave him my most sincere smile as I turned to face him, olive oil bottle in hand.

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