Page 16 of Rescue Me

Zana places a hand to my shoulder and pushes me back onto the chair, a snarl on her lips. It isn’t completely directed at me but it gets the point across all the same. “Absolutely the fuck not. No,” she interrupts, her voice cutting through my building momentum.

I blink at her, startled. “No?”

She leans down, placing her hands on the table on either side of me, her face inches from mine. “Ethan, baby, you are not storming out of here to fight someone you’ve never met over a Beta you saw for two minutes.”

“But he’s ours,” I argue, my chest tightening at the thought of Reid’s bruised face. “Ifeltit, Zana. He’s—”

“I know, baby,” she purrs, the Alpha sound calming me enough to relax. “I believe you. But you’re not charging off half-cocked and getting yourself in trouble. Sit here, eat your pastry, and let me handle this.” Before I can protest, she picks up the bag from the counter, pulling out one of the flaky, golden croissants. She breaks off a piece and presses it to my lips. “Eat.”

I glare at her but open my mouth, biting down on the pastry. It’s buttery and sweet, melting on my tongue, but I barely taste it. My mind is still on Reid, on his bruises, on the way he bolted like he thought I was going to hurt him. I wasn’t. I would never do that.

Zana straightens, pulling her phone from the counter. My chewing slows as I watch her tap at the screen, her expression tightening.

“What are you doing?” I mumble around the bite of pastry.

“Making a call.”

“To who?”

She doesn’t answer, just glances at me with a faint smirk. I squirm in my seat, swallowing the pastry as my mind races. The sound of her dialing fills the kitchen and I lean forward, trying to see the screen. Whoever she’s calling, one thing is clear—Zana isn’t leaving this alone.

And neither am I.

I can’t stop replaying the moment in my head. Over and over, like a scratched record that refuses to move on. Reid, slumped in that back booth, his dark hair falling over his face, the soft rise and fall of his chest. The scent—warm almond and sandalwood, sweet but edged with something deeper. And those eyes. Hazel, but not just any hazel. They held something unspoken, something raw. Pain. And when they locked onto mine, it felt like the world shifted under my feet.

The pull in my chest is maddening, an ache that grows the more I think about him. He looked fragile and strong all at once, like he’s been holding himself together with sheer willpower. The bruises on his face, the way he bolted like a scared animal when I tried to approach—it’s burned into my memory. Someone hurt him. Someone who had no right to lay a hand on my Beta.

I chew furiously on the pastry, my knee bouncing under the table. The flaky crumbs fall onto the paper bag, but I don’t care. My mind is racing, already brainstorming ways to find him again. He’s out there somewhere, probably hurting, and I can’t stand the thought of him being alone.

A list begins to form in my head: clothes, phone, charger, some cash—whatever I might need to find him. I grab a pen from the counter and scribble the items down on the back of a takeout menu, the pastry clenched between my teeth as I write. The sugar is almost too sweet, but it doesn’t stop me from biting off another piece, my thoughts spiraling.

It’s halfway through my third bite that I pause, my brows furrowing. Wait a second. These aren’tZana’sfavorite pastries. They’re mine. She’s been picking them up for me all this time, hasn’t she? My sweet tooth, not hers.

I look up at her, sitting across from me with that amused glint in her eyes, her phone pressed to her ear. She notices my expression and raises an eyebrow. “What’s that face for?” she asks, though she already knows.

“You’ve been lying about these being your favorite,” I say, my voice muffled by the pastry in my mouth.

She laughs, a low, warm sound that makes my heart stutter. “I never said they weremine,” she muses, leaning forward to run a hand through my hair. “You just assumed.”

I narrow my eyes at her, chewing faster out of sheer defiance. She shakes her head, her laughter softening as she leans back in her chair. But then her tone shifts as she refocuses on the call and I realize she’s talking to someone. My chewing slows as I strain to listen.

“Margie,” she begins, her voice calm but carrying that distinct Alpha edge. “About the Beta that was in the diner earlier. Do you know anything about him?”

I sit up straighter, my heart racing. My Beta. She’s talking aboutReid.

There’s a pause and I can faintly hear Margie's voice owner on the other end. “Why does it matter?” Margie asks cautiously. “Is he in trouble?”

“No,” Zana replies, her tone softening. “Not at all. It’s just... my Omega is convinced they’re mates. We just want to meet him.”

My cheeks flush, but I don’t interrupt. The other end of the line goes quiet for a moment before Margie speaks again, her voice low. “I don’t have any contact info for him. All I know is the pack he’s contracted to—the Wilhelms.”

Zana’s expression darkens, her jaw tightening. “Is his pack the one hurting him?” Her words end in a growl as I snatch another pastry and stuff it into my mouth, needing to do something lest I try to march out of the house again.

“I can’t answer that,” Margie snaps. “If you want to meet Reid, you’ll have to go through his pack. That’s all I can tell you.”

Zana sighs, leaning back in her chair. “Thank you,” she pushes out, her tone clipped as she ends the call.

I’m already halfway out of my chairagain, the list forgotten as adrenaline courses through me. “Let’s go, then,” I demand. “We’ll talk to his pack. Now.” There’s absolutely nothing I can do in this situation and facing another pack, one with Alphas could be a detriment to my healthandsafety. My Alpha won’t even let me visit my own father’s house alone—no way would she let me attempt this rescue mission.

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