Page 39 of Puck Your Charity

I watch the fight drain out of her body. Her stiff shoulders slump forward. The fierce glare in her brown eyes fades, replaced by sheer exhaustion. The biting wind whips her messy hair around her face. She looks worn down to the bone.

A loud sob tears from her throat. She drops her forehead against the steering wheel and weeps.

Listening to her cry makes my chest ache. I stand in the freezing wind and wait. I give her the space to process her options without pushing her.

A full minute passes.

Her hand reaches for the side panel of the door. Her fingers tremble.

A loud click echoes in the quiet parking lot.

She unlocked the doors.

I reach out and pull the handle. The metal door swings open.

Olive looks up at me. Tears stream down her flushed cheeks. "Okay." Her voice breaks on the word. "Okay. Take me to the house."

A wave of relief hits my chest. I strip my thick winter jacket off my shoulders. I lean into the freezing car and drape the warm fabric over her trembling frame. The jacket swallows her petite body.

"Slide over." I guide her toward the passenger side. "I'll drive."

Leaving her sedan in a dark lot means abandoning the last of her possessions. I refuse to let her lose anything else.

She melts into the warmth of the jacket and shuffles across the center console. She drops into the passenger seat and pulls her knees to her chest, inhaling my ozone scent from the collar with desperate, greedy gasps.

I climb into the driver's seat of her compact car and pull the door shut, securing the locks. My broad shoulders cramp in the small space, but I ignore the discomfort. I reach across her body and pull the seatbelt across her chest, clicking it into place. The weak heater struggles, but my body heat fills the cabin.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open the pack group chat. I type a quick message.

FINN:

I have her. Driving her car back to the mansion.

I hit send and toss the phone into the cupholder. I shift the sedan into gear and pull out of the grocery store parking lot. I’m come back for my jeep after practice tomorrow.

Olive rests her head against the window, her eyes closed. The scent of her arousal fills the tight space, testing the limits of my control. But a profound sense of peace settles over my pounding heart. The feral panic fades. We secured our Omega. The actualwork of earning her forgiveness starts tomorrow, but tonight she sleeps under our roof.

Chapter 13

We park inside a large, heated garage. The space looks big enough to hold a dozen vehicles. A collection of sleek sports cars and oversized SUVs fill the concrete floor. I stare through the windshield. Exhaustion crushes my bones. My limbs feel like lead. Escaping the freezing grocery store parking lot drained the last ounce of my adrenaline. My defenses lie in ruins.

Finn unbuckles his seatbelt. He opens the driver's side door and steps out. Walking around the front bumper, he opens my door.

I unbuckle. My legs tremble on the concrete floor.

"I've got you." Finn wraps his thick arm around my waist, supporting my weight.

He guides me toward a thick wooden door. Opening it, we step into a mudroom and pass through to a sprawling, luxurious kitchen. Warm air hits my freezing face.

The intoxicating pack scent hits my lungs.

A hurricane of pheromones fills the mansion. A distinct base of crisp citrus anchors the space. The ozone of a thunderstorm blends with rich cedar, crushed black pepper, and juniper. The aroma wraps around my exhausted brain. As much as I hate to say it, it feels like home. My inner Omega purrs. Fighting the instinct takes too much energy. I let the scent pull me under.

Malcolm and Lawrence stand near a huge marble island. They both wear dark sweatpants and plain t-shirts. They look up the second we step into the room.

Lawrence drops a dish towel onto the counter. He crosses the floor in three long strides. His eyes scan my face, taking in the dark circles and my pale skin. Malcolm steps up beside him. His intense, dark eyes sweep over my shivering frame. I spot Victor standing in the shadows near the hallway arch. He keeps his distance. He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture rigid. His icy eyes track my every move. He looks terrified to step closer.

My phone buzzes inside the pocket of my jeans. It vibrates a second time. Then a third.