Page 47 of Fated to the Enemy Alpha

“Do you think he suspects you?” Ben asked with an edge to his tone.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m still tracking Lina and delivering reports, but he’s keeping his own counsel more and more, asking for less from me when it comes to investigating Lina.”

“It sounds like he’s suspicious of your girl,” Ben said.

Ben’s words had the usual wash of protectiveness swirling through me as I thought of Lina. God, I wanted to keep her safe, but she was infuriatingly mistrustful and seemed hell-bent on keeping her own counsel, as much as Magnus was. The last few days of working in our shared office space only seemed to have strengthened the silence and walls that Lina seemed determined to build between us.

My phone sounded an alarm, and I said, “Hold on, Ben.”

I looked at my phone, and an update from my tracking app flashed on my screen. Tit was the one I had attached to Lina’s car. She’d finished early again this evening, ducking out of the office even earlier than I had. Now, as I opened the tracking app and saw her car’s progress leaving the city, I swore, “Fuck.” I held the phone to my ear again. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

“No worries, bud. I’ll spread the word about Saturday with the rest of the pack.”

I hung up and once more followed Magnus’s orders, following Lina out of town. But frustration shot through me. Did she really think that just because I wasn’t reporting the truth to Magnus she didn’t need to be more careful? With the date of her mate ceremony so close, she should be more careful. She shouldn’t be taking another reckless trip out to her friends.

Then, the thought of little Betty had me worried she might be unwell again. My heart squeezed, and I drove swiftly, not just for Lina, but with thoughts of checking in on the little one.

When I got to the villa, Emily opened the door, hardly blinking as she took me in. “Stephen,” she said. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” She asked wryly.

“Nice to see you again, Stephen,” Matthew said, joining us by the door and schooling his features better than Emily did. She really didn’t look pleased to see me.

“Sorry to barge in like this again. But I need to see Lina.” I didn’t feel the need to elaborate. After all, I’d seen their shared office space and so many of their secrets that they were more than aware of the elaborate subterfuge we were all in.

Betty, wearing a tutu and ballet pumps, skipped over to us. “Uncle Stephen!” She greeted me. “Will you play with me?”

“Sweetie,” Matthew began, “Uncle Stephen’s here to see Auntie Lina. You come down with me and Mommy to the office—”

“I don’t mind,” I interrupted. “Betty can keep me company while I wait for Lina,” I suggested. That same eagerness to spend time with the little girl filled my chest, and relief trickled through me to see her looking so much better. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with health, and she clearly had oodles of energy as she jumped up and down, her black wavy hair bouncing.

Matthew and Emily exchanged an uneasy glance, and then Emily said, “Lina went up for a shower. She shouldn’t be long.”

I nodded. “Betty can keep me entertained, isn’t that right?”

“I’s show you a new dance,” Betty exclaimed, already skipping across the living room.

Emily went to the bookcase, and it rolled away, leaving the corridor to the office bare. It felt refreshing that she and Matthew didn’t bother to conceal the space from me. If they were more accepting of me, maybe there was a chance that Lina would be.

As I relaxed into the space, the memory of sitting beside Betty and Lina washed over me, and for the first time, I was pleased Lina had driven out here. Maybe here, where she felt safe and at home, she’d listen to me and accept my help.

“Be good, sweetie,” Matthew said as he followed Emily down the corridor.

Betty didn’t seem to hear her father, though, and danced over to me until she came to a standstill, blinking up at me with those bright blue eyes—so uncannily like Lina’s.

“Want a story?” I asked.

Betty shook her head. “I want to play—Hide and Seek. You hide, and I’s count. I’s count to ten,” she announced proudly.

I beamed at her. She was so precious. “Aren’t you a brainiac? But you’ve got to give me time to hide. So how about you count Mississippi, too?”

“Miss— sippi?” She asked curiously, stuttering over the word adorably.

“You have to count slowly and say Mississippi after each number—like this: One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi.” I demonstrated.

“Okay,” she answered brightly, climbing up on the sofa and burying her face in her hands as she began to count. “One Miss—sippi, two Miss—sippi, three Miss—sippi, four Miss—sippi…”

I hurried quietly into the kitchen area, pulling open the door to another room. It was a utility room with a washer and dryer and the backdoor in the corner.

Perfect.

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