Page 53 of Unhinged

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

brYDGETT

The door clicks shut behind us, sealing me, my alphas, Franko, and Candy inside Gears' office. It's a little too quiet for a second, and I hate it. Hate the way everyone's looking at Franko like they might tear him apart if he so much as breathes wrong.

I don't blame 'em.

But still. Franko's here because I asked him to be.

I launch myself at him again, wrapping my arms around his neck. He smells like leather and gunpowder and bad decisions, and for once, it’s a comfort instead of a threat.

"Thanks for coming," I tell him. "And for bringing the car."

He squeezes me tighter for a second. "Anytime, girl," he says. Then pulls back, cocking his head like he’s sizing me up. "But I’m gonna wanna see the boy before I head out."

I nod, biting my lip. "Yeah. After this."

Gears shifts behind me, restless. Acid crosses his arms. Arrow looks like he's two seconds away from dragging Franko outside and letting all the brothers have a turn.

I square my shoulders. "Alright. What did you find out about the manufacturer? About The Father?"

Franko's easy smile fades. He scratches the back of his neck, glancing at Candy, then at me. "You’re not gonna like it."

"Spit it out, Franko." My voice comes out sharp, and even Acid lifts his brows a little, like he's surprised at how hard I hit those words.

Franko opens his mouth?—

And someone starts banging on the office door like the whole damn clubhouse is on fire.

Arrow growls low and stomps over, throwing it open like he’s about to break someone's jaw.

It’s Arky.

"Someone else is here," he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Says Brydgett invited him. Muscular dude. Kinda scary. But, uh…he looks spooked."

I blink. My stomach flips.

I know who it is before I even move.

I clap my hands together once, sharp enough to make Franko flinch, and head for the door without waiting for permission.

Behind me, I hear Arrow muttering, "Who the fuck now?"

When I step into the hallway, I see him.

Broad as a damn truck, every inch of him—muscle and ink—like he walked out of some soldier-of-fortune ad. He’s wearing a camo jacket and his hair’s a mess, short and wild, that messy strawberry-blond that looks too soft for a guy built like a fucking tank.

Marcus.

My heart squeezes, weird and tight.

He’s standing just inside the front door, hands shoved deep into his pockets, big body tense like he’s ready to bolt or fight or both. His eyes find mine and the fear there—it ain’t for himself.

It’s for me.

I don’t think. I just move. I cross the room in a few quick steps and throw my arms around Marcus’ big, solid body.

"Thanks for coming," I whisper against his chest. He smells like cinnamon buns.

He hesitates, just for a second, then hugs me back, big hands spanning almost the whole width of my back. "Almost didn’t," he mutters, voice low enough only I can hear. "But I decided I needed to check out these alphas you're shacked up with."

Behind me, Gears lets out a growl low enough to vibrate the walls.

Arrow grunts, not even trying to hide it.

Acid curses under his breath.

I pull back from Marcus, rolling my eyes, and spin to face my growly, pissed-off alphas.

"What is the problem now?" I snap.

Gears crosses his arms over his chest, scowling like he’s about to hand out death sentences. "You need to stop hugging other alphas, Omega," he says. "Or you're going over my knee."

I laugh—a real, belly-deep. “I’d love to see you try.”

Turning back to Marcus, I wave a hand at the room. "Everybody, this is Marcus. Marcus, meet Gears, Arrow, and Acid."

They give him hard nods, the kind that says we’ll gut you if you touch her wrong , but Marcus just lifts his chin, calm as ever.

"Marcus lived in the alley behind my old apartment," I tell them.

"He pitched a tent back there the first winter I lived there.

Been friends ever since." I shrug. "He lives in my old place now. I invited him the other day when I went to see Georgia. She didn’t wanna come? " I ask, looking back at my friend.

Marcus chuckles under his breath. "Georgia didn't wanna come," he says. "Said it was past her bedtime. But told me to tell you to send pics if any old single men show up."

I snort, covering my mouth.

"Come on," I say, grabbing Marcus’ arm and tugging. "Let's all go get a drink."

Gears catches my wrist before I get far, pulling me back against his chest. "We were having a conversation, Omega," he reminds me.

I twist around in his arms, grinning up at him. "Franko’s gonna be here all weekend. It can wait. I wanna have a good time. Everyone’s here now.”

Gears huffs—not happy about it, but not shutting me down either. "Fine," he says finally. "Franko, you and your guests can stay in the empty rooms. Pick whichever ones you want."

Franko salutes him lazily, like he owns the place. "My man."

Gears looks at Marcus next. "You need a room?"

Marcus shakes his head. "No. I’ll head back to my place after."

"Suit yourself," Gears says.

We all head toward the bar.

Marcus and I end up shooting pool against Franko and Candy. Turns out, Marcus is damn good. Better than me by a long shot, but he lets me take the winning shot, anyway.

When the game’s over, Arrow slips up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He presses a kiss to the side of my neck, making me shiver.

"I texted my sister to come down and see the car," he murmurs, lips brushing my skin. "Since tomorrow we’re planning to show you your surprise. Then have dinner."

"Good call," I tell him, leaning back into him a little. "I hope Judge is sleeping, though. It's late for him."

Arrow’s chest rumbles against my back, and he presses his face into my neck, breathing deep like he’s trying to cover me in his scent. The move makes my whole body relax without me even thinking about it.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" he asks.

I nod without even thinking. "I want all three of you to stay with me."

Arrow’s chest rumbles against my back. "I’ll make it happen," he promises.

And in that moment, wrapped up in the people who chose me, who fought for me, I finally—finally—start to believe that maybe, just maybe, I’m not so alone after all.

The back door swings open and Dillon stomps in.

The brothers spot her and immediately start ruffling her hair and fist-bumping her like she’s one of them. She scowls, swatting their hands away, muttering under her breath about how they’re messing up her hair.

She stomps over to the pool table where I’m leaning against Arrow.

"Who's this?" Dillon asks, hitching her chin toward Marcus, her eyes sharp.

"This is my friend Marcus," I say, smiling. "Marcus, this is the guys’ little sister, Dillon."

Marcus straightens a little, looking awkward as hell, but still sticks his hand out toward Dillon.

She doesn't even hesitate. She steps right up, bold as anything, and shakes his hand firm like she’s not staring at him like he's a goddamn snack. Dillon looks him up and down slowly—like she's sizing up a brand-new Ken doll—and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

My girl might still be young, but she’s got good taste.

Marcus shifts again, almost like something’s got under his skin. His nostrils flare, just once, like he’s catching a scent he wasn’t expecting. His jaw tightens, and he looks away fast. Poor bastard. Probably his PTSD acting up around new people.

I hook my arm through Dillon’s and steer her toward the door.

"Remember when we talked about my GTO?" I ask her. "And you said you weren’t giving it back?"

"Yeah," she says, side-eyeing me, suspicious.

"Well, you mentioned wanting a pink Eclipse."

Her eyes widen. "You didn’t," she squeals, voice already going giddy.

"I did," I grin.

We step outside, and when Dillon sees the pink car, she absolutely loses her shit.

"Holy fuck! Holy fuck!" she screams, jumping up and down, her hands flailing in the air.

I laugh so hard my sides hurt as she launches herself at me, hugging me so hard I almost fall over. Her scent wraps around me—bubblegum and fresh air—and my omega instincts soak it up like a sponge. Pack. Family. Mine.

"Best sister-in-law ever!" she shouts.

My stomach flips. My eyes go wide.

Sister-in-law.

When I bond with the guys…

She’ll be my little sister, too.

Bettie will be like my mom.

I’ll have a family again.

A real one.

For the first time since I was little.

Holy shit.

"Brydgett, so, for real! This is mine?" Dillon says, practically vibrating.

"Yes, Dillon," I laugh. "It’s yours. But I want my GTO back."

"Done." She grins, immediately sliding into the driver’s seat and honking the horn like a maniac.

"Thank you so much!" she yells.

"You’re welcome, Dillon."

She pulls out her phone, already babbling about calling her friends and showing off. I shake my head, smiling so wide my cheeks hurt.

"I’m gonna head back in," I tell her, stepping back toward the door. "You have fun."

"I will!" she calls after me.

I head back inside, ready for another drink and a night full of fun with the people who are starting to feel like my real family.

Finally.

I go straight for the bar and Keg grins wide when he spots me, already wiping down the counter like he’s seen it all tonight.

"Another?" he asks, grabbing a clean glass.

"Yeah," I say, sliding onto a stool. "Might as well keep it rollin'."

He chuckles as he pours. "You sure know how to keep a party going, Brydgett."

I flash him a smile, feeling loose and warm. "Planned it earlier this week."

Keg snorts, shaking his head as he sets my drink down in front of me. "You're driving those three alphas of yours insane," he says low. "You keep touching other alphas, they're bound to fuck someone up."

I wince, hard.

Shit.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.

Shit, shit, shit.

Here I am, hugging Franko, hanging on Marcus, not even thinking, and just a few hours ago I about tore that whore’s throat out for touching Arrow.

God, what am I doing?

Guilt slams into me heavy and fast. I ain't usually so touchy, not with anyone. But maybe with my heat creeping closer, the drinks I've had, and this weird bubble of safety here... I let my guard down. My fight-or-flight instinct is dulled tonight.

And now I’m gonna fuck this all up before it even really starts.

"Thanks, Keg," I mutter, grabbing my drink and gulping half of it down fast enough it burns.

I need to go apologize. At least explain.

I scan the room, my eyes landing on Gears and Acid in the far corner, talking serious with Nitro. I’ll wait. I don’t wanna interrupt club business. I frown.

Where’s Arrow?

I don't see him anywhere.

The dance floor's packed, the pool table’s busy, but he’s not here. Just as I’m about to head for the hallway to look for him, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. That icy, bone-deep feeling only two things in this life have ever given me—the feeling something’s wrong.

Judge.

My heart seizes. Something’s not right. I can feel it. Mother’s instinct, serial killer instinct, whatever you wanna call it. It's loud and clear.

I slam my drink down half-full and don't think, just move. Straight for the back door. I can't even explain why I go outside instead of through the clubhouse to Bettie’s place.

It’s just a pull. A gut-deep yank I trust without question. I shove the door open, stepping into the night air.

And there?—

Across the lot?—

I see Dillon. She’s standing by the passenger side of her new car, the pink Eclipse, half-shielding Judge behind her. But they’re not alone.

My blood runs cold. My heart kicks into overdrive, pounding so loud it’s all I can hear.

His voice cuts through the night, low and sharp, sending a shiver right down my spine.

"Hello, Omega."