Page 32 of The Honor of Being Hers
The grove near the outer wall offered shade, at least.She was sitting on a low stone ledge half-covered in ivy, the cool granite seeping through her jeans.Ancient oak trees filtered the harsh sunlight into gentle dapples across the moss-covered ground.Her hands had stopped shaking, but her skin still hummed with adrenaline, and not because she was aroused, but because she was afraid.
Someone had gone into her Omega registry file.Someone had shared its content.
And it hadn’t been her.
The violation felt physical, like someone had stripped her naked in front of strangers.Her most intimate moments—the way her body had responded to her Alphas, the vulnerability of her heat—reduced to clinical data points for bureaucrats to judge.
Thoughts swarmed around in her brain almost faster than she could process them.Her private data was leaked online.The only ones who had access to it were she, her doctor, and the Alphas inside the house.Although she was pissed at the latter for putting that much information into her medical file—couldn’t they have just written it down on paper?!—she doubted they would have shared the information either.It didn’t even occur to consider her doctor, if he would have leaked the information he could have done so at any time.
No.Someone was targeting her specifically, using her most private information to discredit her professionally.The why seemed clear: her research was worth millions, and an unbonded Omega with compromised suppressants would be seen as a security risk.The only question that remained was who.A jealous researcher?A company she’d turned down?Someone from the conference who’d shown too much interest in her ‘medical providers’?
16
The large entryway hadn’t been this quiet since the day they moved in.Tyler’s shoes echoed against the polished concrete, each step sharp and deliberate in the hollow space.
Tyler stood with one hand braced against the lintel of the south corridor, his other hand curled into a loose fist at his side.His hair was disheveled from running his hands through it, and those usually calm hazel eyes were sharp with worry.The gentle therapist who usually radiated peace looked ready to hunt down whoever had hurt his Omega.Her scent lingered in the space, diluted by time and open air, but unmistakable.He could taste it on his tongue still, not arousal, not heat, but something raw and wounded that made his chest tighten with protective fury.
He hadn’t wanted to follow her after she plainly told him not to.Yet, he didn’t want to let her go, either.His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white with the effort of not chasing after her then and there.
Ryan had read the breach notice three minutes after Rachel forwarded it, without a subject line or warning, just the entry code to the forum Lauren had already seen.He didn’t say anything at first—he just sat behind his mahogany desk, back straight, spine locked, the muscles along his neck drawn so tight Tyler could see the tendons standing out.His dark hair was mussed, and those sharp green eyes held a dangerous glint.The leather chair creaked under the tension radiating from Ryan’s body, and his hands were flat against the desktop, fingers spread like he was trying to anchor himself.
William was the first to speak.He always was, when it mattered.He pushed off from the wall with precision, his steel-blue eyes already calculating next steps.Even in crisis, his bearing remained controlled, though Tyler could see the fury burning beneath his composed exterior.
“They accessed her registry through a bonded-line credential,” he said, leaning against the far wall.The wall was cool against his back, solid and grounding when everything else felt like it was shifting beneath them.
“You can’t use that without access to the Alpha half of the bond, which we haven’t yet formed.Which means this was internal.Possibly judicial.Possibly corporate.”
“You think it’s me?”Ryan’s voice didn’t rise.It never did.However, Tyler still felt the edge of it down his spine.
“No,” William said evenly.“We don’t think so.But she might.”
Tyler hadn’t seen Ryan flinch in years.
The air between them stayed sharp for a moment, like static before a storm.Tyler could feel it prickling against his skin, raising the fine hairs on his arms in warning.
“I didn’t authorize the file,” Ryan said.His voice dropped to a growl that would have made weaker men step back.“And I didn’t grant access, either.If my name’s tied to that breach, someone at Monroe Tech is about to lose a job, a license, and several fucking extremities.”
Tyler crossed the polished concrete floor slowly, his footsteps echoing in the hollow space, not speaking, just bracing one hand on Ryan’s broad shoulder and squeezing once.Ryan’s muscles were rigid beneath his palm, coiled tight as wire beneath the contrastingly soft cotton of his dress shirt.The man beneath felt like he might shatter if touched wrong.
“We know that,” he said.“But she doesn’t.”
“She wouldn’t have run if she thought we were the ones behind it,” Ryan said.“She would’ve come straight to us.”
Tyler didn’t bother to argue.Because she might have, and she might not.
William left the room first: calm, quiet, a tactical exit that suited him.His footsteps were silent on the Persian carpet, but Tyler felt his absence like a sudden drop in temperature, the way a room changes when someone who anchors it steps away.
Tyler stayed, watching Ryan breathe.Or try to.
“She’s not running from you,” Tyler said eventually.“She’s running from what was done to her.”
Ryan leaned forward, elbows on his knees.“She’s running because someone made her body public.Turned her into a fucking dataset.”
“And we’re going to fix it.”
“She’s not a security breach.She’s not a goddamn precedent.”
“I know.”
