Page 88 of Sold to the wrong Alpha
Brody kept eating.
Ren turned toward him.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Brody chewed. Swallowed. Looked at him.
“No, I’m enjoying this.”
Ren was tying his shoes when Brody appeared in the doorway with the car keys dangling from his index finger.
“You have an appointment in an hour and a half. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
Ren looked up. His heart gave a sharp jolt, a mix of relief and something he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“Did you find someone?”
“Two cities from here. No connection to my uncle. A gynecologist specializing in pregnant omegas. Private practice, back entrance.”
Brody said it as if he were reading a tactical report, not arranging his son’s first prenatal checkup. Ren finished tying the second knot and stood up.
“Ten minutes.”
“Nine already.”
Ren changed into a less flashy t-shirt, brushed his teeth, and splashed water on his face. In the mirror, his reflection showed him something he still didn’t quite recognize: color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eyes he didn’t remember ever having. He stepped away from the mirror before sentimentality got the better of him.
Brody was waiting for him next to a black SUV parked in the back of the mansion. The windows were so dark they looked opaque from the outside. Before Ren could open the passenger door, Brody pulled a black cap out of the back pocket of his jeans and placed it on Ren’s head, tucking his blond strands inside with quick fingers.
“Uh…”
“Your hair is visible from space.”
Ren adjusted the cap himself, brushing Brody’s hands away with a gentle swat that didn’t contain a shred of genuine rejection.
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Platinum blonde. Seriously. It’s like wearing a neon sign.”
They got in. Brody started the engine, and the car pulled out through the back gate of the property—the one Ren had never used—heading down a side road flanked by high stone walls and dense vegetation. The engine was barely audible. The air conditioning smelled of new leather, raisins, and walnuts—that scent Ren had long since stopped trying to ignore.
The first twenty minutes passed in comfortable silence. Ren watched out the window as the landscape shifted from residential to industrial, then to open fields, then to a three-lane highway. Brody’s hand rested on the gearshift, near Ren’s knee without touching it. The mid-morning sun filtered through the tinted windows, casting everything in a dark amber hue.
Brody glanced in the rearview mirror. A quick, almost imperceptible gesture. Then he did it again. And again.
Ren noticed.
“What’s going on?”
Brody didn’t answer. He took his phone out of the dashboard holder, pressed a contact, and put it back. One ring. Two.
“Go ahead.”
Jax’s voice filled the car through the speakerphone.
“We’re being followed.”
A brief silence. Then Jax let out a sound that was half sigh, half growl, the audible equivalent of someone confirming what he already knew.
