Page 26 of Heat Hesitation

"You mind telling me what the fuck you think you're doing?" Sully snaps.

I try to pull out of his grasp, and only when I whimper in pain when he realizes he's gripping too tightly does he let go. He opens his mouth as if to apologize but snaps it shut, his eyes wild in anger and disbelief.

Chapter 11

Ophelia

"You're going the wrong way," I growl at Enzo. He glances at me through the rearview mirror but says nothing.

I shrug away from Sullivan and sulk. After a few minutes, I calm down, their scents mingling with mine, reminding me I'm safe, even if they're angry—hell, I'm angry—and I remember Stella threatened to tell Red.

That could be an epic problem, so I pull out my phone. Sure enough, I already have four missed calls and three texts. I return a quick text to Red, ignoring Sully's prying eyes.

Nearly half an hour passes when the familiar greenery of Haver Hill Road comes into view. For a moment, discomfort tightens my heart as we pass the bridge. They must be able to scent my stress. It's late, and though my scent-blockers haven't worn off since I just took some before my adventures this evening, the unmistakable burnt floral tinge in the air has both alphas tensing.

"You're safe, Omega."

"Ophelia," I correct, not for the first time. As usual, Enzo says nothing.

A few minutes later, we pass the bridge and climb up the side of the mountain past the river. Enzo takes a right and pauses at a gate to type in a passcode. 3467. We continue down the long, winding drive. I can't help it; my jaw drops in awe as the most beautiful, sprawling estate hidden amongst the trees comes into view.

It's low and covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, tinted, since we can't see inside; instead, the reflections from the trees and a massive water feature in the turnaround driveway mirror off the walls of the mansion-sized home.

"Where are we?" I ask, forgetting momentarily about the fact that they basically abducted me off the street.

"Home. Where else would we bring you?" Enzo speaks for the first time tonight.

Assuming there's nowhere to run, Sully and Enzo climb out, leaving me alone in the back of the SUV. I type 3467 with a location pin drop to Red, then climb out.

Sully waits patiently, still extremely pissed, Enzo having left the front door open behind him.

The other packmates are murmuring as I step inside, transported into, what might be, my absolute fucking wet-dream of a house. The floor is all-natural wood. It's minimal but masculine, somehow suiting all of their personalities, all rolled into one. There are cushions and patterned fabric in the curtains and throw blankets in the living room, but everything else is Scandinavian style, sleek and modern.

All four of their scents, steeped so deeply into our surroundings, make my knees weak. They smell like home.

Asher's wearing pajama pants, looking like he just rolled out of bed. Theo looks like he just came from the club, his top button undone, and I want to bite his neck for showing other women his beautiful chest and golden skin. He smells like betas, lots of them, but he doesn't smell like sex. Not that I care.

Sully grips my arm, tromping us over to a chair in the living room, unceremoniously pushing me into the seat. Before I can snap back, he grabs my backpack, genuine dread spiking my heart when I realize he's figured out what I've been up to.

This is bad. Very bad.

These are OFA alphas. Even if they don't punish me, which seems unlikely, someone will get in trouble tonight.

Shit. The implication that they saw me at J's with Stella tells me they must have been following me. From Queenie's. From the clinic. Janey, my best contact, risks her job every time she sells to me. She could go to jail for selling prescription drugs under the table—shit, shit, shit. I cross my legs, letting my foot bounce nervously.

Determined to keep my mouth shut and protect my girls, I sit straighter. Sully rips open my backpack as his brothers watch on. Enzo takes a seat closest to me, reaching out, gripping the hem of my shirt, holding onto a piece of me. It's weird but not threatening. His brothers eye him warily, but our attention is drawn to Sully, who dumps the boxes of pills and cash out of my backpack onto the floor.

"You're a fucking drug dealer?"

I scoff. Asher squats down, sifting through the boxes, reading off the labels. Finding nothing illegal—or not finding any heavy street drugs—he looks up at me, "Heat suppressants? Why do you have so many?"

I want to lash back. I want to scream that there's so much they don't get, that they'll never understand up here in their ivory tower. But I don't.

"I followed you." Sully stands there, arms crossed with a stern expression.

I roll my eyes, "Obviously."

"You're dealing prescription drugs? Why? Do you need the money? I told you, you don't have to work anymore."

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