Page 88 of Ruined Wolfsbane

Bastian wraps his arm around my waist. “It’s going to be okay, sweet girl,” he whispers in my ear. I’m not sure it will be, but I nod anyway.

Malachi strides toward the building, looking imposing in his navy button-down and charcoal trousers. My eyes snag on his belt, and my cheeks heat, remembering what he told me he’d do with it. Shaking my head because now’s really not the time for those thoughts, I follow him inside. Bastian moves his arm from my waist to hold on to my hand.

Xander brings up the rear, a silent shadow looming behind me. Whether he’s there to protect me or stab me in the kidney, I don’t know. I never know with him.

The short heels of my boots clack on the polished tan floor of the lobby. I swing my gaze around the drab beige walls, fake plants, and harsh artificial lighting.

Way too soon, I’m at the reception counter. A slight woman with a brown bob and blue eyes stares at us. Her eyes rake appreciatively over my men, causing a growl to rattle in my chest. My eyes widen at both calling the Wyldharts mine and growling. Malachi, Xander, and Bastian are not mine. I’m still not sold on this whole “mate” thing.

And since when do I growl? I wonder if this has something to do with the brew Patrick forced me to drink. I’m not dead, so there’s a chance it worked. I’m pretty sure I’d notice if I were a wolf now, though.

The woman narrows her eyes on me once she’s done thoroughly eye fucking the Wyldharts. “Can I help you? I’m Melanie, and I’m happy to help you with anything you need,” she simpers as she turns to Malachi, leaning forward to push her ample cleavage at him.

I clench my jaw and ball my hands into fists. Digging my nails into the palm of my hand, I focus on the sharp sting instead of my need to rip her throat out.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I’m not usually this violent. Okay, maybe I can be. Usually, it’s with more provocation than someone staring at the Wyldharts.

Malachi huffs out a laugh before pulling my back against his hard front. He winds his arms around my waist and drops a kiss to the top of my head. “Our girlfriend needs to access her box.” I’m pretty sure he’s just saying “girlfriend” to get Melanie to leave him alone, but my stomach does a summersault at the label. While I don’t know if I even want to date them, I still preen at him claiming me. Leaning down so his mouth is at my ear, Malachi whispers low enough only I hear, “Jealousy looks good on you, baby girl.” I shiver at his warm breath caressing my neck.

I open my mouth to deny that I’m jealous, but Melanie beats me to it. “Name and box number,” she clips. If looks could kill, I’d be dead from the intensity of her glare.

“Briar Wylder, box 117.” I pull the brass key out of my pocket as I talk. Rubbing my thumb over the engraved number nervously, I wait for her to either find the box or tell us we’re in the wrong place.

“ID,” is all she says in response. I dig it out of my pocket and hand it over with shaking fingers. She snatches it from my grip with a displeased frown. Tucking my hand back in my pocket, I avoid eye contact with any of the Wyldharts. With how observant they all are, they definitely noticed my trembling. I hate looking weak in front of them.

Maybe they’ll forget about it if I ignore them long enough.

I snort internally. Unlikely. All three of them seem to remember every little detail about me.

Melanie purses her lips. “Follow me.” She turns and walks out from behind the counter. She heads over to a shiny steel door, the click-clacks of her sky-high heels echoing across the lobby.

I break out of Malachi’s hold to hurry after her. He grabs my hand before I can get very far. Entwining our fingers together, he strides ahead of me, pulling me along behind him.

Bastian grabs my other hand, making walking a little awkward. But his and Malachi’s warm palms are the tethers I need to ground me. Without their hands holding me, I feel like I’d float away, lost to the worry trying to drown me.

We wait behind Melanie for what feels like an eternity. She taps her foot, the thumping sound driving me crazy. She apparently has better things to do than help us, the only other people in this place.

Eventually, a short balding man in a tailored suit approaches our group. He dips his head politely before he and Melanie fiddle with the complex lock. Their shoulders hunch so I can’t get a good look at what they’re doing.

With a series of clicks, the man pulls open the heavy steel door. A silver cage door stands locked behind the main door. Fishing a key ring from his pocket, he nimbly unlocks that door too. After waving us inside, the man leaves.

I step into the room lined with brass deposit boxes. The walls are filled floor to ceiling with hundreds of lock boxes. We wind through the hallways of boxes before coming to a room with a table and chairs.

“Sit,” Melanie tells us curtly. I raise my eyebrows at her tone but do as she says. Malachi sits next to me with Bastian across from me and Xander next to him. I run my fingers over the smooth top of the oak table as we wait, tapping to music only I can hear.

Melanie returns with a small box in her hand. It can’t be bigger than half a foot wide and two feet deep. She slams the box onto the table, causing me to jump slightly. After shoving a key in one of the keyholes, she looks at me expectantly, brows raised. I hesitantly insert my key into the other keyhole. With a turn, the box pops open. Staring at it like it’s a snake coiled and ready to strike, I don’t make a move to look in it.

“I’m sure she doesn’t need you hovering over her. I can keep you three company while she’s going through the box,” Melanie purrs at the Wyldharts. I grind my teeth, fighting the need to throat punch her so she can’t talk to them.

“We’re staying,” Malachi’s voice cracks sharply in the still space. Melanie flinches, eyes widening at the violence on his face. With a jerky nod, she scurries out of the room, leaving us in peace.

There’s probably something wrong with me that I think Malachi’s hot when he looks ready to kill. Oh well. It’s by far not the most pressing of my million and one problems.

Bastian slides the dull brass box in front of me. “Take as much time as you need, pretty girl. We’re happy to wait all day if that’s what it takes.”

Nodding to show that I understood him, I blow out a breath. We could be sitting here for weeks if we wait until I’m ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, so I just need to look in the damn thing. Pulling the box over until I can peek inside, I see an envelope addressed to me in my mom’s delicate cursive. My hand shakes as I carefully reach inside and pluck out the letter.

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