Mikel slumped onto Elijah’s window seat, pulling out his phone and glancing at the message they had all received in the group chat at some point during movie night.
Elijah: Carter is in a bad way. Luckily, those dark circles under her eyes make it look like she hasn’t been sleeping, or we might have to explain why she’s melting into Kilian like he’s a damn cloud right now. She’s obviously not going back to her dorm alone tonight, so whoever decides to bodyguard while pretending to surrogate, listen up.
Elijah: Getting her in a smaller space with minimal clothes so your scent can properly bake into her is a good idea. Sex is a very bad idea. Lots of skin contact is a good idea. Sex is a bad idea. Touching her pressure points and where her veins are closest to the skin is a good idea. Sex is a bad idea. Speaking to her softly and gently is a good idea. Sex is a bad idea. Keeping her in a harmonious, low-conflict environment is a good idea. Sex is a bad idea.
Mikel skimmed the message again, trying to figure out how any of that would knock the Sigma out. He pocketed his phone again and fixed Theodore with a look. “What did you do, exactly? I’d prefer to know that she’s passed out in a good way and not from shock.”
“We rubbed her in all the right places.” Theodore rolled his eyes before realising what he had said and quickly amended: “Like her temples, her neck, her ankles. She relaxed very quickly and passed out even faster.”
Elijah was nodding along while Theodore spoke like he already knew that was exactly how Carter would react. He was also scrolling through the phone Theodore had handed him, simultaneously reading whatever was on screen.
“It’s bad,” Elijah said, glancing up at Mikel and holding out the phone.
Mikel got up and scanned the messages, the photos … the video.
“Well.” He handed the phone back, his entire body growing still, and calm, like it always did before a fight. “She’s even better at keeping secrets than I thought. Pity the one person she chose to confide in was a backstabbing little cunt. She could have used a friend.”
“What happened?” Cian pushed into the room, his bright, intelligent gaze darting between them. “Who’s guarding her?”
“Oscar and Kilian.” Theodore didn’t look up from the phone as he surveyed the messages with a thunderous expression on his face, but when Cian drew closer, he sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, and handed the phone over.
“We have limited options here,” Elijah said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms. “And we have to consider that the club”—he rolled his eyes as he said the word—“might be behind all of this to begin with. This might be an initiation task.”
“It suits their MO,” Mikel agreed, voice tight with annoyance. “You haven’t heard any of them mentioning her?”
“No,” Elijah confirmed, mouth thinning further. “You and Kalen?”
“Nothing.” Mikel stood, beginning to pace. “If they wanted to recruit her, why wouldn’t they use us to get to her?”
“Same reason they didn’t use you to get to me.” Elijah shrugged. “Same reason they haven’t used me, Gabriel, or Oscar to get to any of these guys.” He waved his hand at Theodore and Cian. “The Track Team doesn’t owe favours; they collect them.”
“This is a lot of dirt,” Mikel growled, shooting a glare at the phone. But then again … they hadn’t held back in their recruitment attempts with him either.
Those secrets were worse.
If this was the Track Team, then they were actually going easy on Carter. Elijah didn’t respond to him, instead choosing to watch as he came to the realisation himself.
“We have to do something.” Theodore was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his eyes growing dark and cloudy.
“Go work out.” Mikel’s order came out as a bark. “We’ve got this.”
Theodore didn’t even pause to argue—despite the slitting of his eyes indicating that he wanted to. He spun and stalked out of the room, his movements jerky and sharp.
Despite everything, Mikel had to quietly admire the younger Alpha. Theodore was completely enamoured with Isobel. Obsessed, possessive, and territorial in the way Alphas could get. But he was holding himself remarkably in check.
Mikel wouldn’t have been able to hold himself back.
When a woman was his—no.
Nope.
None of that.
“Were they in the shower?” Elijah asked, the second Theodore was out of earshot, raising his brows at Mikel.
Maybe he was echoing Mikel’s thoughts.
“Mhmm.” Mikel pulled out his phone, hovering over Tilda’s contact, pausing there and turning over all the scenarios in his mind.
“Would you?” Elijah asked quietly, watching him. “I know it’s a big ask.”
“I can handle her,” Mikel promised, before punching the button.
She picked up on the third ring, her tone curious. “Why are you calling me from Reed’s room?”
He immediately strode for the door, sharing a quick look with Elijah before slipping into the hallway and walking back toward his office. “Was just leaving. You free later?” he asked, closing himself into his office.
“I’m not available at your beck and call,” she snipped.
Usually, he played this game with her. Tonight, he had neither the time nor the patience … so he let that darker part of him take over.
All of them had a demon of some kind. It was what had drawn them all together, and it was what bound them, still. It was why several of them were drawn to Isobel like they couldn’t help themselves.
It wasn’t the bond. It was the darkness … because she was just as damaged.
They all had monsters living beneath their skin: proverbial cloaks they could shrug on and off when the mood struck, the material woven with obscure malevolence. They could use it to do unmentionable things, or they could use it to do the impossible. Isobel didn’t wear her darkness the same way. She couldn’t seem to control it or demand it serve her.
Maybe that was what drew her to them. She needed someone to bring it out of her.
Enough about the Sigma.
He dropped his carefully walled composure and welcomed that caged beast into his skin with practised ease. He felt the change in his stance, and when he spoke, he could even hear the silken cadence that edged his usually guarded tone.
“It’s time to leave work,” he said. “Go back to your apartment, Tilda.” A calm, cool emotion drifted over him. Control. Beautiful, sweet fucking control. “I want you waiting on your knees four steps from the door. You’ll be punished for every article of clothing left on your body. You have twenty minutes.” He hung up, pausing a moment to give her enough time to leave her desk as he had ordered before he made his way back toward Theodore’s room.
He didn’t need to question whether or not Tilda would obey him. She would. Despite everything, she would. Despite her own nature, even. This was what she wanted, what she was always begging for, always trying to push him to give to her.
The one piece of him he wasn’t always willing to share.
Theodore’s room was dark as he closed the door, the figures on the bed tensing. All of them except Carter. Even in the darkness, he could clearly see her curled up in a rumpled mess of blankets, her cheek resting on Oscar’s arm, her fists curled in Kilian’s shirt, pulling it close to her face.