Page 9 of Bronx

More than that, there was something…familiarabout her, but he couldn’t pin down what it was.

He studied her for a moment, noting the delicate features of her face and the way her dark bangs framed her brown eyes. But before he had time to identify what it was about her he thought he recognized, the woman blinked several times, glancing away from Bronx and at the floor.

Bronx realized he was staring. Worse, she seemed uneasy around him, as if he frightened her.

Deliberately, he glanced away, giving her space to examine him in return.

Still, he wondered what she might think of him—how she saw him as she studied his face—did she see him as a valiant guardian or a violent monster?

“No harm done,” he finally managed to say, his voice rough with suppressed emotion as he flicked his glance back to her.

Relief flooded her face as she reached down to retrieve her son’s toy. “I’m Cora Harris.”

“Bronx,” he responded, nodding in acknowledgment. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ah, Mr. Bishop! Here is the key to your mother’s suite,” the desk clerk called, holding it out to Cora. Bronx frowned in confusion as he watched Cora move back to the desk to accept the key.

“Wait,” he said, hesitating for a moment before giving voice to the question nagging at him. “Why are you going to my mother’s suite?”

“Amelia is your mother?”

Bronx nodded.

“She’s kindly offered us a place to stay while we get settled in Moonstone,” Cora said. “She’s been incredibly generous.”

Bronx processed this new information. His mother had always been one to welcome newcomers into their pack—but for some reason, this woman seemed…different, somehow.

“Welcome to Moonstone, then,” he said, trying to keep the uncertainty from seeping into his voice.

Her eyes met his for a brief, electric moment, her gaze spearing him, leaving him dizzy, before she turned to gather her son. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go see our room.” She paused. “I’m sorry again for my son’s actions,” Cora said, her voice soft and sincere as she glanced back toward Bronx.

“Really, it’s fine,” Bronx replied gruffly, his eyes never leaving her face. He knew he should look away, but there was something about her that held him captive.

She gave him a small, appreciative smile before turning to leave with her son in tow.

As Cora walked away, her name finally penetrated his muddled thoughts.

Cora.

Wasn’t that the name of the woman Ryker wanted him to meet?

Bronx watched her retreating figure, heat coiling through him. For the first time since Dr. Greg Weiss had released the guardian from the hospital, Bronx found himself wondering if maybe—just maybe—there was someone out there who could look past his scars and accept him for who he truly was.

His chest tightened with longing and fear. The thought of pursuing her—or any woman, for that matter—terrified him. He knew all too well how his scars marred his once-handsome face, and his violent job only added to the darkness that seemed to cling to him like a shroud.

His throat tightened, a dull ache settling deep in his bones. Could he ever hope to claim someone as beautiful as she was?

The idea seemed ludicrous, impossible even.

Why would anyone like her—or any other woman—ever choose me? If only I were different. More like my cousin Ryker, charming and carefree. Or even Steele, with his alpha confidence.

But he knew wishing wouldn’t change anything. What he saw in the mirror every day—the harsh lines of his face, the cruel marks incised into his skin—was a reminder of who he was and what he’d become.

With a shaky breath, Bronx forced himself to turn away from the door through which Cora had disappeared.

He needed to focus on his duty to the pack, even if it meant burying his own desires and dreams beneath layers of obligation and responsibility.

Chapter 4

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