Page 143 of Unhinged

Jasmine and citrus and that coppery note that makes me want to tear through walls just to get her home.

“We don’t have time for this dick-measuring contest,” Gears snaps, already moving. “Her heat’s starting. We need to get her back to the nest.”

Panic tries to climb up my throat, but I shove it down. Logic. We’ve got three bikes. No cage. Marcus got here on foot.

“How are we gonna get Gidge there?” Arrow asks, adjusting her in his arms.

“Gears has the smoother bike,” I say, my voice hard. “She should ride with him.”

“Done,” Gears says, already reaching out. “Give her to me.”

Arrow passes her over gently. She doesn’t fight. Her body slumps against Gears like it belongs there. His arms wrap around her like they were made for it.

We head outside. Marcus trails behind, hanging back with deliberate distance, staying downwind. Her scent is thick and not meant for him. He covers his nose subtly with the back of his hand.

“I’ll head home,” he says as we reach the bikes. “Call Georgia if you need anything. Or when you're ready to talk. I just want her safe. That’s all.”

Gears doesn’t even look at him. “We’ll be in touch,” he mutters.

Brydgett’s barely aware, just whining and curling in on herself, holding her belly. Gears sets her on the bike with her back to the handlebars and climbs on, straddling the seat and facing her. Her arms go around his shoulders on instinct, her head falling against his chest like her body knows she’s safe now. That she’shome.

The bike roars to life.

I grip my handlebars tighter than I should and fall into formation behind them.

We found her. Now we get her home.

We don’t stopat the clubhouse.

We blow past it, gravel kicking under our tires as we veer around the back lot toward the shed the prospect was cleaning up. It was meant to be storage—or a crash space in case shit hit the fan. Guess that counts now.

The shed’s already been cleared out. Gears and I framed the damn thing last year, but it sat empty and just needed polish. It’s somewhere warm and off-site enough to keep an omega in heat safe... and keepusfrom doing something stupid in front of the whole club.

We cut the bikes and I head for the door, flipping the lights on.

Not bad.

The prospects did good, all things considered. There’s no trash. No dust. No musty, empty smell. The overstuffed mattress pad on the floor looks freshly fluffed and covered in soft dove-gray bedding. Hell, it almost looks cozy.

The string fairy lights above are dead, though. I make a mental note to fix that later. Gidge likes soft light. Omega shit. She deserves it.

“Gears, go update the brothers,” Arrow says, his voice focused. “Tell Suave he’s running the show while we’re out here. And grab her stuff from her room. All of it. Bedding. Clothes. Even the shit she stole.”

Gears nods and shifts Brydgett gently in his arms. Her body is limp against him, laced with the thick, sweet smell of her heat. He carries her toward the mattress, but the second her back touches it, she stiffens. A low, frustrated sound rises in her throat.

She twists, whining now, barely awake but clearly unsettled. Her nose scrunches, scenting the space. There’s too much wrong here; too many old scents. Not ours. Not hers.

Gears crouches, holding her close a second longer. “I know, baby. I’m gonna fix it.”

He brushes a hand down her back, then gently lays her down again. She whines, shifting restlessly, nose twitching like she’s searching for something that isn’t there.

Gears hesitates, then pulls the bottom of his shirt up and rubs it against the mattress where her head will rest. It’s not much, but it’s his scent; fresh and strong.

“I’ll be back with the real stuff,” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair from her face before stepping away.

Arrow looks at Gears. “Hurry,” he mutters, already pulling out his phone. “She’s not gonna settle ‘til it smells like us. I'm gonna call Mom,” he adds, digging for his phone. “She can tell Judge that Gidge is safe, but they should stay away until herheat passes.” He heads for the door without waiting for a reply, pulling it shut behind him as he steps outside to make the call.

Brydgett lets out a whine that cuts through me. Her eyes follow him; wide, glassy, needing.