Page 5 of The Alpha King's Mate

His good sense would make the decision for him, hopefully.

“Maybe so,” I said. “So what’s the call?”

“Hold on. I’m walking to the table. Hammer needs to make the call.”

Nothing moved at the house I watched. No lights flickered inside. No flashing of a TV or the opening of any doors. No one came or went except for random trucks that drove into the garage.

“You’re on speaker, King,” our leader answered.

“Hammer,” I said, “what do you think? I can end this now before it even begins. It would be one hell of a sign to the ones in charge.”

“There are no omegas in there yet?” Hammer asked.

“No. Just a couple of security thugs.”

Hammer exhaled loudly. “King’s right. That would be one hell of a message.”

“They’ll be left with ashes.” I took my shoes off, getting ready to shift. The predator inside me got the message loud and clear.

“Do it,” Hammer commanded. “Get back here when it’s done, just in case there’s someone on their way. We don’t want witnesses.”

“I’m on it.”

There were only bodies and blood once the fire started. I made sure the fire was contained to the house before I left. The last thing I wanted was innocent blood or hurt people on my hands. I had enough sins weighing on my chest.

As I rolled out of the neighborhood, I passed some fire trucks already on the way.

I hope those fuckers loved the message I sent.

Chapter Five

Ryan

It was craft day, a favorite of all of the children. Not so much for me, especially ones like today, because it was “glitter day.” We had one every month, and they were the kids’ favorite by far. Anytime they had the little sparkly bits, they were in heaven. Sally said it was magical, and Michael called it super-powered art.

Whatever the case, I was going to end up scrubbing glitter out of their hair, vacuuming it off the floor, and washing it out of their clothes pretty much until the next time it was glitter day. I didn’t mind, not really. It gave them so much joy.

“You guys almost have your art clothes on?”

“Just a second!” Ruthie called out. And it wasn’t much after that when they came out with their paint-covered clothes. I discovered early on that it was best to have a set of clothes just for arts and crafts, ones that didn’t matter if they got paint on them. The kids loved it because it meant they could get paint on them. And yes, they were a lot messier when they didn’t have to keep their clothes clean, but that was fine. They were having fun.

They were getting to the age when we were going to need to set up a second bedroom for them. I put it on my list of things to talk to Sloan about. They’d been so great about taking us in and letting us make a home here, I felt bad asking for more, but six kids in one room was getting to be a bit too cramped.

“Okay, let’s get there so you guys can get first pick!” Not that they needed first pick. There were tons of glitter. Sloan got it all at some kind of closeout somewhere, and we had an entire shelf devoted to it. I wasn’t sure how it came to be that glitter was only used every so often, since we had such an abundance. But I hada feeling it came from omegas—omegas who were sick of getting it out of their children’s hair.

I ushered the kids down to meet everybody and was just about to walk them inside when Sloan tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hey, once you get the kids settled in there, come see me, okay?”

Nerves built in my belly. If he needed to see me, I must have messed something up. Maybe I forgot to put something away or missed a meeting. There were a thousand things it could be, and the longer I thought about it, the longer that list became. I wasn’t even sure why I was so worried. It wasn’t like Sloan had ever done anything other than show me a better way to do something. It probably went back to being a kid worried that every wrong step I made might lead to one more scar.

I guided the kids to the table and let the director know I would be back near the end of class. Six hugs later, I was off to find Sloan in his office. It had only been a few minutes since he asked me to go see him, but it felt like eons.

“Hey, what’s up? Did I miss a meeting again?” Twice in the past month I had—both times because I was shifting and neither intentional. Each time, he assured me it was fine, but it would only be fine so many times.

“No, nothing like that. It’s just… I’m worried about you.” He gestured to a chair, and I sat down.

“Worried about me?” I was, too, but I thought I’d done a better job of hiding it than I apparently had.