Page 66 of In Control

“Isn’t it always?”

“Maybe I just want to talk some more.” She leans her head against the window again and smiles, her eyes brightening in the dark of the car. “You’re easy to talk to and the night is young. I’m going to go up there to my apartment with only my cat for company. I assume you’re driving to a home that’s also empty as all your packmates will be working.”

“Esra might be home. I might have other plans.”

The smile falters on her lips slightly and I feel like a creep.

“I’d like to come up, Sophia.” I press my foot to the accelerator as the light turns green. “For one drink,” I clarify.

“One drink.” She twists her head away to look out of the windscreen, the smile returning. “Of course, I may pour you a very large drink.”

I laugh and follow her instructions, finding a space on the road outside the apartment block. It’s a nice area of the city centre, not far from Crestmore College, and it’s new. I wonder how she can afford it on a student wage. Unless of course her mum’s latest husband is paying for this.

“I was going to try to meet you,” I say as we ride the lift together, a dimly lit box with mirrors reflecting our faces from every angle – hers flawless from each, mine looking older against hers. She stands wedged into one corner and I lean against the opposite and we watch each other as the lift rises.

“You were curious,” she says, lips twitching with that smile.

I shake my head. “No, actually,” I wet my bottom lip, “I was going to ask you to stay away from my pack.”

Her mouth makes a silent ‘oh’ and she tilts her head. “You thought if you asked nicely I would.”

“I had no idea, but I was going to try. You see – I’m sure you see – things in the pack aren’t how they should be. There are these fissures,” I drag my finger through the air as if I’m tracing them, “and no matter what I do they seem to be growing bigger and bigger by the day.”

She watches my hands. “And what have you decided now? Are you still going to ask me to leave your pack alone?”

I shake my head. “No, not now I’ve seen you with Gabe. Today, he was the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time.”

Her eyes soften. “I like him. I like Liam too.”

“And me?”

The doors slide open and I watch her walk out of the lift, appreciating the curved silhouette of her body and the fluid way she moves.

At her door, red like her nail varnish, she fumbles for her key and opens the door.

On the mat she kicks off her heels and freezes for a fraction of a second as a small tabby cat circles her calves. Then she swoops down to pick up a square envelope.

She drops it on the sideboard along with her keys and walks into her apartment, switching on lamps as she goes.

I shut the door, and stare down at the envelope. Her name is printed across it in neat block handwriting. Ice swims through my veins and I flick my gaze to the young beta.

“What’s this?” I ask, pointing to the envelope as she pulls a bottle of red out of a small wine fridge.

“What’s what?”

“This letter.”

She jolts ever so slightly, then recovers herself, swinging two glasses down onto the counter, and unscrewing the top of the wine. “Personal mail,” she says with an attempt at a bemused expression.

I stride towards her, peering down into her face.

“I know what kind of personal mail that is,” I say, anger in my voice. I deal in broken relationships, shattered marriages. I’ve seen many of those type of letters.

Her hand shakes and she lowers the bottle before raising her eyes to me.

Vulnerability.

She’s like Gabe.

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