Page 53 of Knot Like Other Girls

How did we end up in this mess?

"You're going to wear a hole in that fancy carpet if you keep that up," Liam's voice breaks through my brooding. He's leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with both amusement and concern.

Mostly amusement.

I grunt in response, not breaking my stride. "They should have checked in by now."

Liam shrugs, the movement making the tattoos on his neck shift like living things. "You know how Troy gets when he's having fun. Probably lost track of time."

"That's not an excuse," I snap, more harshly than I intend. "We have protocols for a reason."

Liam's eyes narrow slightly, and I brace myself for an argument. But before he can respond, Braxley's bitching cuts through the tension like nails on a chalkboard.

"Ugh, are they still not back?" he complains, sauntering into the room with his phone held out in front of him, no doubt taking videos for his adoring followers. "This is so unprofessional. I have a very important unboxing video to film, and I can't concentrate with all this... drama."

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that punching our client in his perfectly sculpted face would be bad for business.

No matter how satisfying it might be.

"Like, is there a way to have just the four of you and get rid of that… other one?" Braxley asks, grimacing. "I'm pretty sure he's going to kill us all in our sleep."

Every trace of amusement vanishes from Liam's face. "Cole?" he clarifies, raising his eyebrows. "You're talking about Cole, right?"

"I can't keep track of all your names," Braxley says with a huge sigh. "If he's the one with half his face blown off, yeah, that's the one. Did I mention he's a direct threat to my aesthetic?"

Liam's lip curls into the beginnings of a snarl.

I shoot Liam a warning look that says it all without me having to speak a word out loud. Don't take the bait. Don't get us fired. We won't be able to keep Bella safe if you cave Braxley's face in like a pumpkin.

Fortunately, Braxley gets bored and flounces out of the room just as quickly as he appeared. I only realize my nails have been digging into my palms to the point of drawing blood when I catch the metallic scent in the air.

This job is going to be the death of me.

Or of Braxley.

I'm not sure which at this point.

Liam opens his mouth to say something to me, but before he can, the door opens again.

This time, it's not Braxley.

Bella steps into the penthouse first, her cheeks flushed from the cool air outside. She's smiling, a real smile that reaches her eyes in a way I haven't seen since we arrived. It's an immediate soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

Troy and Savva follow close behind her, their usual banter noticeably subdued. And then...

Cole.

He looks... different. Not relaxed, exactly—I'm not sure Cole knows how to relax—but notably less rigid than usual. The muscles of his jaw aren't ticking, and his intense blue gaze looks almost soft.

"What happened?" I ask, keeping my voice carefully neutral even though every alpha instinct is screaming at me to demand answers. To protect. To fix whatever's wrong.

But I know better than to push Cole too hard. He's like a wounded animal sometimes. Back him into a corner and he'll either lash out or shut down completely.

"Just needed some air," Cole mutters, not meeting my eyes. His knuckles are bloody, I notice. Fresh scrapes across the scarred tissue of his right hand. He's good enough at keeping his face angled away from anyone looking at him that I almost miss the small gash above his scarred eyebrow.

Damn it.

"Air doesn't usually involve busted knuckles," I point out mildly.

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