Page 104 of Claiming the Pack's Omega
When she keeps her gaze averted from mine, I turn to Milo for answers.
“You should tell him,” he murmurs softly. “He can help, too.”
She glances up at me, her stormy gray eyes carrying shadows that I’d do anything to get rid of.
“I look that bad, huh?” She jokes, wiping at her face again. “I should really go fix my makeup.”
“There’s nothing to fix, Spitfire, you look beautiful as always.”
She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, I don’t feel hot. There’re much sexier ways than crying my eyes out to make my mascara run.”
Her mouth snaps shut as if she didn’t mean to just say that. Her petrichor scent thickens, betraying her true feelings.
A satisfied smirk tugs at my lips.
She may still be pissed at me, but she’s attracted to me. I can work with that.
What can I say, I look good in a suit.
“Forget I said that,” she mutters under her breath, staring away from me and up at the ceiling.
“Hmmm, I don’t think I can do that. But I’ll be nice and not talk about it anymore,” I say, flashing her a wink. “Now then, do you want to tell me why you were crying?”
She bites her lower lip and that anxious look returns to her expression.
“I—I took a nap earlier and woke up to a bunch of texts and missed calls,” she says, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot. “They were from my old pimp. And from someone in the Sorel family.”
Oh fuck. And not the good kind of fuck, either.
“What kind of bullshit were they saying?” I growl, my voice going low.
“Just stuff about how I’m a traitor," she says, her scent souring with her stress. She won’t meet my eyes. That frustrates me.
She may be able to hide her emotions better than most, but I’m an observant guy. Her eyes are like windows into her head, and considering the fact that she doesn’t seem to be the kindof girl who lets people in easily, they’re one of my only tools to understanding where she’s at.
“They also burned down my family’s house," she whispers, her head falling to her chest. She looks defeated.
I’ve never seen her look like this before. It makes my heart ache.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” I say, reaching out to pull her into my chest.
She leans in, resting her cheek against the fabric of my suit jacket as she wraps her arms tentatively around me.
God, I missed this.
I got used to the feel of her soft body pressed up against mine during those Saturday nights I’d have with her.
“We can find replacements for all the things you weren’t able to bring with you,” I suggest softly.
“It’s not about the things," she says, shaking her head. “I mean, maybe it’s a little about the things—I grew up in that home—but it’s more than that.”
She trails off, and there’s a little tremble in her arms as she clings to me.
“They were also threatening her safety,” Milo says, his jaw clenching. “The house was just another way they wanted her to get the message.”
My gaze jerks to him.
“Theywhat?” I grit out. “I need names. And addresses. Right the fuck now.”
