Page 76 of Savage Claim

His mouth thinned, but he didn’t protest or deny my words. He just pulled our hands into his lap, his fingers twisting around mine as he silently stared out the window.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

The cold night air brushed over my face as I ambled through historic downtown Savannah. Now that I was free to come and go from Silver Ridge, I stayed out as much as possible to avoid Barric. A week had passed since he taunted me with The Collective symbol on his shirt.

The head alpha hadn’t played any more games, but he was suspicious, and his gaze followed me every time we were in the same room.

Leaves crunched under my boots as I headed toward Forsyth Park. My heart had been aching for Hawk after the events at Corvin Manor. He might have been a total dick to me, but I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. When we left the raven headquarters, he looked so haunted, so lost.

Did Gia help him? Did anyone?

The urge to visit him tore at me, and I had to fight my feet from turning in that direction. Fane would probably have an aneurysm if I did.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and when I took it out to check the screen, a smile pulled at my lips.

Fane: Staying out of trouble?

Me: Of course.

Fane: Liar.

Me: I just got done dancing on the bar at Wrath & Ruin. I downed a whole bottle of tequila, and Ruin just invited some sexy dark fae to join us in the VIP room.

I snorted, picturing his scowl.

Fane: You better be kidding.

When I didn’t respond, he sent another text.

Fane: You’re kidding, right?

Me: I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.

Fane: I’m not freaking out.

Fane had been going down the rabbit hole to discover my parents' identity. Presently, he was checking out the hospital where I was left as a newborn to see if he could glean some information. He asked me to come, but I wasn’t in the mood to visit my dumping ground.

Even though my parents abandoned me to save me, it still didn’t erase the horrors I experienced.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket and slowed as I came to the tree Hawk and I used to sit under, flinching when a guy with his head in his hands and a half-empty bottle of Jack beside him appeared.

“Hawk?”

His head snapped up, brown eyes bloodshot and glazed over. “Tate?” He blinked a few times as if to ensure he wasn’t hallucinating. “What are you doing here?”

A sharp pang pierced my chest at his disheveled state. Instead of the black raven attire, he wore threadbare jeans and a long-sleeve Georgia Bulldogs t-shirt. “I was out for a walk.” I gave a noncommittal shrug and pointed to the enormous oak, the bare branches twisting above our heads to create a skeletal canopy. “I was thinking of you so…”

His mouth parted. “You were thinking of me?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope you weren’t plotting revenge.” He grabbed the bottle of liquor and took a deep swig. “I deserve it, though. You should hate me.”

I scoffed and sat beside him, expecting him to pull away or flinch, but he didn’t. “I could never hate you.”

Hawk’s brows slammed together. “Why?”

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