Page 39 of The Pack's Knotty Runaway
Idiot.
I let out a breath. They’re letting their instincts drive. I’m dying to crush this guy just as much as they do, but we need to be smart about this.
“Listen to me.” I tell Reed, holding his gaze. “I want to put him in a cage where he can never touch her again, but he hasn’t broken a law. Sending a bag isn’t illegal. If you go find him tonight and beat him, you go to jail. And who protects Luna then?”
Ash’s jaw works before he looks away, staring at the floor. Reed’s shoulders drop an inch, and his scent dials back a fraction.
“Tomorrow,” I say, “she goes to her yoga retreat. The security there is tight. They have gates. Security guards. She’ll be safe.”
Reed rubs the back of his neck, his brows furrowed.
“We will drive her,” I continue. “And while she’s there, I’ll pull every string I have. I’ll run his name. I’ll find out where he’s staying, everything he’s ever done. We build a case. We do it right.”
Ash looks at me. “And if he comes back here?”
“Then, we’ll be within our rights to act,” I say, a slow, grim smile touching my mouth.
Ash exhales then nods. “Alright.”
“I’m staying right outside her door tonight,” Reed says.
“My thoughts as well.” I pick the leather bag up off the counter. I don’t want Luna to have to look at it in the morning. “I’ll lock it in the attic.”
I look toward the stairs, my instincts screaming at me to stay on high alert.
I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight.
17
Luna
12 hours later
“Let your kidneys float,” Bodhi murmurs, his voice drifting out over the sitar music. “Let them hang in the dark, and trust your spine to do the holding.”
My kidneys, to the best of my knowledge, are not floating. The rest of me, though, is shaking through a pose called Extended Puppy (the pose is significantly less cute than its name suggests).
My arms are stretched out in front of me, palms flat, forehead mashed into the cork yoga block, hips stacked high over my knees, and every muscle from my shoulders to the base of my ribs has caught fire. Sweat slides down my temple and drips off the bridge of my nose. Somewhere to my left, the woman in the good leggings exhales through her teeth in a long, suffering hiss.
“Find the stillness inside the burn,” Bodhi says.
I am extremely available for the burn. The stillness is running late.
I shut my eyes. Big mistake. The second the studio goes dark behind my lids, the palo santo smoking in the corner stops being palo santo and turns into leather, woodsmoke, cedar...
The alphas. My scent matches. The ones I nearly stepped over this morning when I opened my bedroom door and found them sleeping on the floorboards. The ones who had coffee, eggs, and thick-cut toast waiting for me when I finally made it downstairs after showering, and who drove me all the way to this mountain retreat in a quiet, protective huddle. My chest already aches just thinking about them.
I have never in my life been taken care of like that.
I crack one eye at the cork block under my head.Don’t think about it too hard, Luna.There is a whole studio of people three feet away on every side, and the absolute last thing this lovely pine-paneled sanctuary needs is for the new girl to start perfuming all over the props. Or worse...
But some traitorous part of me doesn’t care about the props or the strangers or my dignity. It just wants them back. The weight of them on either side of me... the scents... the kno—
Okay. Breathing. We’re breathing.
But when am I even going to see them again?
I mean I’ve got a few days of vacation left after this ten-day retreat lets out, and if I grovel to my boss, Bob, I might wrangle a short extension on top of it. A week, maybe. Ten days if he’s feeling generous.
