Page 65 of Retribution

“Thank god for Elaine,” I say, opening the soaked body suit and diaper. “I was going to drop the package off at a shelter in Minneapolis, Devon, but with the baby I don't know how well she’ll travel.”

The president doesn’t blink an eye as Elaine helps me change the diaper and put her into a new long sleeve onesie. The buttons are complicated as fuck, and I wonder if there’s something with a damn zipper.

This is ridiculous. Picking the baby back into my arms, I pat her back as I watch Elaine make a bottle. This diaper bag had all of the essentials, but is missing a decent parent.

How the fuck did this happen?

“Give me the address of where you want the package to go,” Devon says, watching me as Elaine hands me the bottle.

“If she won’t take this, I’ll warm it up,” she says softly. “She’s such a little thing.”

“That she is,” I say, still irrationally angry.

Well, maybe not irrationally. I think I’m well within my rights to be enraged.

Taking a breath, I cradle the little person against me and run the nipple of the bottle along her lips. Formula slips out and then she opens her mouth and attacks it. My lips twitch in amusement as I gaze down at her while she eats, her little hands attempting to help me hold the bottle.

She wiggles as she eats, almost in a version of a baby happy dance.

“I wish I knew how old she was,” I say softly. “Based on size, I’d say two or three months maybe? Who the hell puts a baby in a closet and passes out naked?”

“That’s a loaded question,” she says. Glancing up, I can see there’s a knowledge that comes from experience and age, even though she doesn’t quite understand how or why I’m here.

“Give us a moment, Elaine. She’s going to need a baby seat, please. Possibly clothes and?—”

“The baby car seat is fine. I just need to get home and then I can get her what she needs,” I say.

“I’ll still run and see what I can do,” Elaine promises.

“Some of us do have families,” Devon explains, though I knew that. The satellites show houses behind the clubhouse.

Research keeps me alive. Except…

“We talked about this, Devon,” I remind him. “No innocents.”

“The RM Club didn’t have any kids,” he yells, his hands fisting his hair. Of course, he’s talking about them in past tense because they’re all dead now.

Everyone clears out of the clubhouse, and it becomes our own private meeting room.

“Could there be some sort of visitation? Though, why you’d drop your baby off at a clubhouse is beyond me.”

“Even that idea is far-fetched. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about this,” he swears. “Isolde, you are the last person I’d ever lie to. My men are probably all shitting themselves from your mask alone.”

“I hope they wipe after,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Will you take the package to Omega’s Haven in Minneapolis? And no, I do not mean the baby. I want Brea to have the chance to start fresh. My hope is that she’s smart enough to take it.”

“I knew you didn’t mean the baby. Yes, I’ll send my best men to take her. We’ll dump her at their front step and ding dong ditch like the good alphas that we are,” he smirks.

There’s no amusement in his face despite this, and his blue eyes are troubled.

“What are you planning to do with the baby?”

“I’m taking her with me,” I reply to him. “She won’t be your problem anymore. They say when you save a life, you’re responsible for it.”

“Fuck,” Devon breathes. “Goddamn it, I’m going to owe you for this forever, aren’t I?”

“Oh yeah,” I promise. “Whatever and whenever I want.”

“Woah,” someone says, stepping into the room.