Page 99 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

I swallow, the weight of that pressing heavy against my ribs.

“So you’re saying I’m a first?”

Grant lets out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, congratulations. You really went and made history.”

I scrub a hand over my jaw, forcing myself to nod. “Guess that explains the long deliberation.”

Grant shrugs. “More like nobody knows what the hell to do with you.”

He turns, heading toward the stairs, expecting me to follow. I do.

The air changes as we step into the main part of the den, and I realize I’m sweating.

I don’t know what makes me do it. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s knowing that Grant is one of the people who’s kept things running while I’ve been locked up, while the pack has been trying to figure out what to do with me. Maybe it’s because he’s been the only one who hasn’t looked at me like he wants to rip my throat out.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry.”

Grant stops, glancing over his shoulder. “For what?”

“Pick one.”

He doesn’t react for a second. Then he shakes his head, turning forward again. “I don’t give a shit about apologies,” he mutters. “I’m just annoyed.”

I frown. “Annoyed?”

Grant sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, man. You made my life a hell of a lot harder. The school’s been a mess since Magnolia took time off. The den’s been split down the middle arguing about you. And, worst of all, Peaches has been serious this whole time. No theatrics, no dramatics, just… quiet Peaches.” He shakes his head. “Unsettling as hell.”

I let out a small snort before I can stop myself. That—that I wasn’t expecting.

He exhales. “But… yeah. You fucked up. No gettin’ around that.”

I nod, staring at the worn floorboards. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause. Then?—

“You take my lighter?”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“My lighter,” Grant says. “Went missing a couple weeks ago. One of those nice ones. Engraved.”

My stomach twists.

I rub the back of my neck. “…Yeah.”

Grant exhales, shaking his head. “Kinda figured.”

A fresh wave of shame rolls through me. I don’t know why that of all things makes me feel worse, but it does.

I clear my throat. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” Grant nods. “I want it back.”

I let out a slow breath. “It’s in my workshop. In the bottom drawer.”

“Good.” He jerks his head toward the door ahead. “C’mon. Don’t keep the pack waiting.”

The den proper is behind us now, its warmth and safety shut away, replaced by the open stretch of land leading to the community center. The walk isn’t long–a few hundred yards, maybe, a minute at most.

---