My Brother 64
Through the wide window of my office, I caught sight of a car that could only belong to Alexander–the sleek, arrogant SUV he d throne on wheels. It was parked right outside my healing center, black paint gleaming under the sun like it was mocking me. drove like it was a There he was, sitting inside, clutching the steering wheel like it was the only thing holding him together. Even from this distance, I could see the tension. His barely–contained anger. I knew why he was here. Jason must have reported. By now, Alexander was undoubtedly choking on the revelation of just how powerful my healing center had become. How it operated without needing anything from the Amber Pack or him. He probably hated it. The truth was a bitter pill for someone like him. He always had to be in control. And now, he wasn’t. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. Poor Alpha Alexander. The realization was probably hitting him like a ton of bricks. And what likely stung the most was his failure to identify my protector. Roman’s shadow loomed invisibly over everything Alexander had been trying for From here, I could see the muscles in his arm tighten as he gripped the wheel harder. His head dipped toward the dashboard, if I had to guess, he was trying to hold his rage in check. But we both knew how bad that temper of his could get. Let him stew, I thought. I had more important things to deal with. Sitting across from Emma at my favorite lunch spot, I could feel her gaze lingering on me before she even spoke. Usually, her sharp tongue didn’t need much warming up, so I braced myself. “Alright, spill,” she said abruptly, gesturing toward me with her fork. “What’s with the scarf earlier? And more importantly–why is your neck looking like that now?” I froze mid–sip of my tea and then slowly lowered the cup. “What are you talking about?” i feigned ignorance, knowing full well what she meant. Emma arched an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Don’t play dumb, Scarlett. We’ve known each other too long for that.” She raised a hand and twirled a finger in mock circles around her own neck. “Those marks. Care to explain, or do I have to guess?” It’s nothing.” I quickly answered, hoping the conversation would die. Training injury.” table turned to look at us. “Girl, I’m a “Training injury?” Emma echoed with an exaggerated laugh, so loud that the elderly couple at the next ta healer–in–training, okay? You don’t fool me. Those are *not* training–related” I shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on my plate, but her persistence wasn’t letting up “Oh, don’t you dare avoid this, Scarlett.” She pointed her fork at me, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Who’s the lucky guy? Come on “No one,” I replied firmly, though my tone betrayed me. “Nothing happened, Emma. Drop it” She leaned back with a sly grin. “Tight. Nothing happened. But someone left their mark, that’s for sure. And judging by the flavor of those marks, it wasn’t just playful.” “Don’t read into it, I mumbled, picking at my food. Emma sighed but dropped her teasing–for now. Still,…