Page 7 of Hunted By the Cartel

I pushed the voice aside, focusing on the task at hand. Hey, I'm only doing this because I want his money and nothing else. Surely, it can't be because I feel something for him. I don't feel anything for anyone. That doesn't make any sense.

I was an alpha, an outstanding influence in the Nightshade Wolves cartel, and yet, here I was, cooking a meal for an omega I barely knew. He better eat what I was going to make or else—

I chuckled slightly. I didn't even know what I was thinking anymore. Just… Something, I guessed.

This was a strange turn of events, one that I couldn't quite explain, even to myself. Understanding my mind was difficult. I gave up on trying to do that a long time ago.

As the scent of sizzling meat and spices filled the air, Rowan's stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between us. I should have put on some music.

I couldn't help but wonder what kind of music he liked. Maybe jazz? Hip-hop? I had no idea. There wasn't actually much I knew about Rowan, which was something I should do something about.

I glanced over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of his flushed cheeks, and I felt a twinge of something akin to affection. Good Lord. What the fuck was happening to me? I was perplexed.

"It won't be much longer," I said, turning back to the stove. "Hunger always makes the food taste better, anyway."

He gave a soft laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Who would have thought he would laugh at a joke I made? I certainly never thought that would happen.

"I suppose that's true," he said, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. "I haven't eaten a decent meal in a while. You know, because I'm always so busy, I don't have time for home-cooked meals."

I plated the food, a simple dish of steak and vegetables, and set it on the table before taking a seat across from Rowan.

I didn't want to make anything complicated, thanks to my lack of recent experience. Most of all, I didn't want to make something I wouldn't like.

He eyed the meal cautiously as if expecting a trap, and I felt a surge of annoyance at his wariness. Oh, come on. If I wanted to kill him, I would have done so a long time ago.

"It's not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Eat. You need your strength if you're going to survive what's coming. I'm not sure I can change my boss' mind about ending your life."

He flushed, his cheeks tinged with pink, and he lowered his gaze, picking up his fork with trembling hands. He really was afraid. I wished I could do something about that, but didn't say anything about it.

"I-I didn't mean to imply that," he stammered. "It's just... I'm not used to... this. Usually, people expect something in return when they do something nice for me."

"This?" I prompted, my voice gentle despite the frustration I felt at his continued wariness. I had to remind myself he wasn't going to change his mind in such a short time.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking to me before quickly looking away. "Being taken care of," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a long time since anyone has shown me kindness. I'm just not used to it."

My heart twisted at his words, and I felt a sudden urge to reach across the table and squeeze his hand. Some people said I was a monster, but I wasn't. It was the first time anyone had said that to me. His life was probably miserable, no matter how much money he was raking in.

So, I cleared my throat, forcing the strange impulse aside. "Well, consider it an added benefit of our arrangement," I said, my voice rough. "As long as you're under my protection, you'll be taken care of. I don't care what you think — that's what I'm going to keep doing."

He nodded, his eyes downcast as he began to eat, his movements cautious as if expecting the food to scald his tongue. Or maybe he was thinking that I was going to jump across the table and hit him. What a stupid notion.

But as he took the first bite, his eyes widened, and I saw a flash of surprise in their gray depths. Something good happened and he better tell me what it was.

I raised an eyebrow, a smug smile tugging at my lips. "It's good, isn't it?" I said, unable to hide the satisfaction in my voice. I was proud of my cooking. "Even a loan shark like me can cook a decent meal. We learn something new every day, I suppose."

He nodded, his cheeks flushing as he continued to eat, his initial wariness melting away with each bite. I found myself enjoying the sight of him savoring the food, his guarded demeanor softening with each passing moment.

Who would have thought he was going to enjoy my home-cooked meal? I certainly never thought that.

"You're a good cook," he said, his voice soft as he set down his fork, his plate now empty. I didn't think he was going to congratulate me. "I mean... it's better than I expected."

I laughed, unable to contain the burst of amusement that bubbled up within me. "Expected?" I echoed, my eyes sparkling with mirth. "You thought I'd serve you slop, omega? I would never do that to my worst enemy."

He flushed, his eyes dropping to his now-empty plate. "I-I didn't know what to expect," he stammered, his cheeks tinged with pink. "You're a loan shark, after all, and I thought you were going to kill me."

I leaned back in my chair, a sense of satisfaction washing over me. "And yet, here I am, feeding you instead of collecting what you owe," I said, my voice carrying a hint of amusement. "We make quite the pair, don't we? Plus, it's not like you can get the money the cartel needs from here."

He smiled then, a hesitant curve of his lips that transformed his entire face. "I suppose we do," he said. "At least for now."

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