Page 162 of Unhinged
“We understand,” Gears says. “This’ll always be your home.”
“Yup,” Acid agrees. “You’re welcome to come over anytime.”
“I will and you better bring Judge to visit,” she adds, pointing her fork at me like a warning.
“I plan on it,” I say.
Judge is grinning like an idiot. Dillon’s teasing him about school outfits and demanding he wear matching socks so she doesn’t get “family shame.” Arrow's trying not to laugh, and Acid’s pretending not to be proud of his little chaos twin across the table.
We finish eating slowly. Nobody’s in a rush to get up. Gears talks to Judge about bikes. Arrow shows Dillon how to properly crack her knuckles, which is disgusting and somehow bonding. Acid keeps sneaking food from my plate, but I let him.
And for the first time, everything feels right.
I didn’t know this was what I needed.
But now that I have it?
I’m never letting it go.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
GEARS
The apartment quiets down after dinner. Judge’s already passed out on the couch with a blanket over him, head on Mom’s lap. Arrow’s flipping channels on the TV with the volume low, and Acid’s cleaning his damn boots for no reason, like he doesn’t know how to sit still when something’s on his mind.
Brydgett’s standing in the kitchen, rinsing a glass, her hair loose around her shoulders, wearing one of my shirts. And shit,minefeels different now. Because sheis. Bonded. Marked. Ours.
But tonight I want her to myself.
I cross the room slowly, giving Arrow and Acid a look that says back off, and step behind her, resting a hand on her waist. She tenses for a second, just a breath, and then relaxes against me.
“Come sleep in my room tonight,” I whisper.
She tilts her head to glance at me, eyes soft and curious. “You sure?”
I nod. “Yeah. I need this.”
Arrow groans from the couch. “Ugh, seriously?”
Acid throws his rag down. “You’re lucky we like you, Gears.”
“She’s mine too,” I remind them.
“She’ll be all of ours again once we’re in the house,” Arrow says. “We’ll sleep together every damn night.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Acid mutters. “Let the man have his turn.”
I lead her back to my room. It’s quieter here. Still. The kind of quiet where I can hear myself think. Not that I’m doing much thinking right now. Everything in me is focused on her. My omega. Mine. She steps in like she owns the space. Like she’s not second-guessing anything. And maybe that’s what floors me most. How damnrightshe looks standing here. In my shirt. Inmyspace.
She doesn’t wait for instructions. Doesn’t fidget or act shy. She just walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, like she knows exactly what I want. And hell, maybe she does. The bond’s humming between us: loud, steady, undeniable.
I drop to my knees in front of her, same as I did when I claimed her. My hands rest on her thighs, heat soaking through the cotton. My voice comes out low and rough.
“I want tonight to be just us.”
She threads her fingers into my hair, slow and sure, like she’s known me a hundred years. “Then take me, Alpha.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
