Page 60 of Candy & Her Saints

It seems that the mayor fancies pretty young men just as much as my dad does.

Our packs truly are similar: two sides of the same tarnished coin.

“Fucking get on with it.” Richard elbows Thomas hard in the side. Thomas doesn’t flinch. “It’s bad enough that I have to babysit you. I’m not getting the blame from Raylan because you’re soft.”

“Soft?” Thomas’s voice is low and dangerous. I shiver. Is Richard joking? Thomas’ tone is dominant enough to almost drop me to my knees. “I’m following the law.”

“Don’t mind me,” Vito says with mock breeziness, “continue arguing amongst yourselves, gentlemen. I need to put the finishing touches to this special cake anyway. It’s for Leo’s birthday. You know, Falcon Knight’s cherished Omega. Falcon Knight, the Senator.”

I smirk.

Go Vito.

Thomas is unnervingly still in contrast to Vito’s frenetic movements, as Vito skims the icing and rocks on his heels.

The only part of Thomas that’s moving is his aquamarine eyes, as he watches Vito with thinly veiled amusement. “You have powerful supporters. Good for you.”

Wait, is he being sarcastic?

Vito’s hand slips in shock, and he smudges the icing. “Shit.”

“I’m sorry, did I make you spoil the cake for the great Falcon Knight? Shame. Can you listen to me now? I’m only telling you this as a courtesy, Alpha to Alpha, but the mayor intends to use this premise for his own business opportunities.” Thomas’ expression becomes weary and resigned. “You’re struggling to accept that reality. Don’t. I have a generous sum that I can offer you today to close this place down willingly and move. Accept it, at least for your sister’s sake. You are protecting an Omega in the rooms above here, aren’t you?”

“No,” I breathe.

Vito slams his hand down on the counter. “Get out.”

Thomas shakes his head. “The mayor can…manipulate…as many laws as he likes to close you down. We both know it.”

“Saints, you’re all the same. Fucking corrupt.”

Thomas winces, in a way that he didn’t when Richard elbowed him. “Unlike you Snakes, of course. Fine, contact your dad and get him to employ an army of your crooked mob lawyers—”

“You really don’t want me to contact my dad about this.” Vito’s expression darkens.

Thomas really doesn’t.

This is getting out of hand.

“What?” Thomas’ brow furrows in confusion.

Lincoln glances around wildly, before snatching up a large box of filled donuts.

“What are you doing?” I snatch at his sleeve, but he dodges away.

“Saving both their stubborn asses,” Lincoln throws over his shoulder, before winking and calling deliberately loudly back at me, “Thanks for the order. They smell delicious.”

Then Lincoln waltzes out into the main shop, and Vito’s eyes become comically wide.

“Mr. West,” Thomas says in surprise. His expression softens, becoming shy and pleased in a way that surprises me. “I was expecting you at Saint Hall.”

It reminds me that Thomas is the same age as us and of the boy who shared his music with me.

Lincoln stalks with the donuts toward the pack with as much confidence as any Alpha.

It’s fucking hot.

“Morning, sir.” Lincoln stops in front of Thomas, boldly meeting his eye.

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