Page 60 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Thirty-Eight

Cal

R age. Pure, undiluted rage coursed through me, the likes of which I had never known. Sitting at Morgan’s kitchen island, white-knuckling my phone, I replayed the video of Garvey bodychecking her for the seventh time.

I didn’t just want to rip the bastard’s head off. No—I was determined to pull out his entrails with my bare hands and shove them down his throat first.

Too bad it was the middle of the night, and the fucker would be on a plane back to Massachusetts before I could get to California and hunt him down.

But from a legal standpoint, it was open season on Coach Garvey.

If I’d known that his verbal harassment would escalate to this… I should have listened to my gut and forced the university to fire the asshole the first time he messed with Morgan.

She didn’t understand, couldn’t smell the desire that wafted off him every time he saw her, or how it had slowly morphed into covetous spite because she denied him the attention his alpha so desperately wanted.

“Hey.” Joaquin kicked the back of my barstool. “Tone down the bloodthirst, man. You’re pumping out pure alcohol fumes.”

As I turned to glare at him, raised voices echoing from Morgan’s suite drew my attention. I wasn’t the only one with their hackles up at the moment.

“This isn’t nothing!” Kelsey had zeroed in on the gouges running along Morgan’s hand and forearm the second she’d walked through the front door. “You were assaulted.”

I couldn’t clearly distinguish the words, but Morgan’s placating tone fell flat.

“I don’t want to hear excuses,” Kelsey retorted with an uncharacteristically emotional edge.

After Morgan’s recent seizure and ongoing monitoring for mate waning syndrome, coupled with fresh injuries, even someone as rock-solid as Kelsey might start to crack.

“Why am I trying so hard to keep you healthy,” Kelsey outright yelled, “if you’re just going to throw yourself in harm’s way every time I turn my back?”

Joaquin sucked in a bitter breath. “Shit.”

I nodded in agreement.

Owen sat at the far end of Morgan’s dining room table, arms crossed across his crisp black dress shirt, expression caught between disappointment and sympathy as he stared at the door to Morgan’s suite.

Alijah sat beside him, hunched into an anxious ball, fiddling with his laptop.

Wyatt paced the perimeter of the first floor, wringing a fuzzy cat kicker in his hands as he walked, muscles bulging with unspent fury.

“This is fucked,” he muttered as he stalked into the kitchen. “Are they going to fire her for spraying him in the face?”

Everyone looked at me.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Depends on how much the media captured. But don’t be surprised if the university tries to bury everything.

Alijah looked up, scowling. “Even with Garvey’s prior suspension and my video? That must be enough evidence to nail him for something.”

“Don’t forget about my video of her telling Garvey and his minions off,” Joaquin said, fiddling with the air purifier control panel behind me.

“And Morgan’s audio recording,” Owen added.

Alijah nodded, returning his attention to his laptop. “I’ve got even more dirt on him, too. Took photos and videos of him during practice when he thought no one noticed him being a creep. That’s what happens when you overlook betas.”

My mind went blank, save for a vein throbbing in my temple with such percussive force I thought I might be having an aneurysm.

“What are you talking about?”

How could there be evidence of other encounters between Morgan and Garvey that I didn’t know about, but Pack Redmond did?

“You know,” Wyatt said, thumping the kicker against his palm as he continued to pace. “The video Joaquin took the day of Morgan’s seizure.”

Joaquin opened the fridge, rummaging through the drink options. “When she turned Garvey’s balls into stethoscope decorations.”

“Yeah,” Alijah said, still focused on the laptop screen. “We had a pack meeting about it. Don’t you remember?” He froze and slowly raised a pair of dark, trembling eyes to meet my fuming gaze. “Oh.”

Joaquin shut the fridge and turned around, giving me a warning look. It would have been more effective if he wasn’t holding a container of cheese cubes and a sports drink.

But if they were going to exclude me, why should I bother to play nice?

“You all had a pack meeting about my girlfriend—”

“Careful.” Wyatt whipped around, pointing the cat toy at my face. “You’re not her only boyfriend, remember?”

“As if you ever let me forget.”

Owen cleared his throat, instantly bringing the temperature in the room down five degrees. “Save the possessive posturing for later.”

Frustrated, I slammed my hand against the island and stared at the ceiling, counting down from ten—when all I really wanted to do was pummel something.

Wyatt’s symmetrical, unfairly perfect face was begging for it.

“Alijah,” Owen continued, as if the matter at hand was no more important than a minor meeting detail, “can you upload your evidence to a shared cloud folder?”

“Just finished,” he replied. “You should all have email invites.”

Joaquin plopped down beside his mate, rubbing the back of his neck while he leaned in to study the contents of the folder.

“Nice work, babe. I’ll upload my video in a minute.” He nudged the drink and cheese cubes closer to Alijah. “Now eat something, please.”

“We had food on the plane.”

“Which makes me doubly determined to feed you.” Joaquin twisted off the cap of the drink and held it out.

Alijah begrudgingly took it. “No, I mean like real food. I stopped by one of those grab-and-go places at the airport and got wraps, spicy chips, and lots of water. Needed to make sure Morgan ate something before taking her meds and passing out. She was exhausted and just wanted to snuggle.”

Our heads swiveled in unison.

Ignoring our probing gazes, Alijah tried to mask his darkening cheeks by downing half the drink in one go.

Wyatt sidled up against the island and thwacked the side of my thigh with the kicker toy. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Alijah choked, coughing into his hand while Joaquin rubbed his back.

“And you’re lucky to have him.” Joaquin flashed a triumphant leer in our direction. “Which means I’m not far behind.”

Wyatt and I exchanged a glance of commiseration.

Getting Morgan to ourselves would be tougher from now on, but at least I’d enjoyed a few months of being her only boyfriend. Wyatt had only managed three weeks before the next addition.

“I did my waiting, just like she asked,” Alijah said, his coughs morphing into a squeaky hiccup. “And we’re going to take things slow. I’m not going to move in on the sly like someone else I could mention.”

Wyatt puffed out his chest. “Hey, she’s my—”

The doors to Morgan’s suite flung open.

Kelsey stormed out, wearing silk pajamas and clutching a wad of used tissues. Her eyes were red. Splotches of color marred her freckled complexion. She stopped short at the sight of us.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, her voice shaking, “but kindly get the hell out of my kitchen.”

Owen ordered the mated pair to head back to their loft, while Wyatt and I gathered our things and made a beeline for Morgan’s bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, elbows digging into her knees, wearing her fluffy bathrobe. The right sleeve was pulled back, revealing a foot of medical gauze and tape, spotted with fresh blood.

As she looked up, I was relieved by the embers burning in the depths of her gaze. Our girl still had some fight left in her.

Straightening her posture, Morgan adjusted her glasses and said in a firm voice, “I’m sorry for worrying you and for getting hurt. But I had to keep Amir safe. No matter what.”

“I get it.” Wyatt dropped onto the mattress and carefully wrapped his arms around her. “You were doing for him what you wished someone had done for you.”

Her brows knit together as she considered his words, and then she gave a stiff nod. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but maybe you’re right. I don’t know. It was more…”

Morgan sighed, running her uninjured hand through her hair.

“I was operating on instinct, certain that I would be fine, no matter what. Fearless for the first time in…” She blinked hard and leaned against Wyatt’s chest. “Since the accident.”

Spooked blue eyes locked onto me. Wyatt had no idea what to say in response to such a vulnerable admission.

Easing down on her other side, I rubbed my hand along her thigh and asked, “Because you knew Garvey would suffer repercussions?”

“No. It was… I don’t know how to explain it.” Her eyes narrowed. “He was a threat to Amir but not to me. Garvey’s psychologically weak. Greedy and short-sighted. Not nearly as dominant as any of you.”

A brief look of smug satisfaction flickered across Wyatt’s face as he kissed her hair.

Morgan leaned forward. “You know how sometimes, when you’re in the zone competitively, you can just look at someone and know you’re going to get the better of them?

It was like that—like I…” Trembling fingers gripped my hand.

“It’s like I was myself again. But better, because I knew…

Knew Alijah was filming, that you and Owen were monitoring everything, that… ”

I ran my thumb along the edge of her bandages. “That we’d understand your motivations. Keeping Amir safe mattered more than your job or safety.”

“But I selfishly forgot about Kelsey—and the rest of my family.” Morgan sighed.

“A few scratches and bruises are nothing in the grand scheme of things. I used to suffer worse every time I learned a new skill. I’ve already gone through hell once.

Anything short of reliving the accident seemed worth it to protect another omega. But Kelsey doesn’t get it.”

“She kicked us out of the kitchen,” Wyatt said quietly.

Morgan buried her face in his chest for a long moment.

“I can’t say I blame her,” she murmured. “The last time she lost her temper like that was three years ago, when I collapsed from exhaustion during my residency. It took ages to get her to forgive me.”