âA couple of days to bring her round fully, but she may take weeks to come to and recover enough to turn properly; there is no telling.
âSheâs been asleep for a very long time, and I donât know what kind of harm that has caused her.â Doc looks helpless, and I can tell he also doesnât know how to react to Colton being so⦠unemotional.
Itâs like he didnât just find his long-lost mother sedated in the back of a truck, and heâs absently directing some lost tourist where to go next.
âIâll drive. You stay back here with my mom. The manor is another thirty minutes away, minimum, and we need to get going before that asshole, Deacon, and his failure sub-pack show up.
âI donât want to be spilling blood in human territory.â Thereâs that growl and hint of anger, and I guess I feel a little smug about that. Colton might rip that jerk a new one after all.
I hope Deacon does show up because I know my Santo will kick that Santoâs ass into next week, and I donât mind letting him have that one. Watching will be as much joy as doing it.
He doesnât even look at me, just nods at Doc to bolt the doors, and then walks forward to the cab and climbs smoothly and fluidly into the driverâs seat.
Itâs like heâs driven military medical trucks his whole life and doesnât even blink an eye at it.
He stops and stares out the window at the assembled vehicles out there, and I know heâs linking the pack to tell them to move.
Heâs issuing orders, and I follow and climb into the passenger seat, a little afloat with the sudden disconnect and unsure how to behave.
This version is a Colton I donât know, and even I feel like I should do what he says.
I screw my eyes up at the trucks, counting maybe five, and way too many for the sub-pack unless theyâre spread thinly among them, but I canât make out whoâs driving.
The headlights are screwing with my vision, and I canât see anything but light glare when I try to look past them.
I wonder if Meadow can see me, and I long for nothing more right now than to hug her.
She would get a hug; Colton can go to hell, well, maybe not right now, as he seems like he could probably use one.
As soon as we hear the door lock slide and click into place, he glances back to make sure Doc has pulled down one of the folding seats and strapped himself in before moving us on.
The fleet of vehicles roars to life, and two stay back to let us pass and follow. Weâre flanked, and Colton just focuses on driving.
He positions us right in the middle of the other cars as though theyâre escorting some presidentâprecious cargo that needs their protection.
I guess we are. The luna is as important as the alpha in a pack. Sheâs our queen.
The need to have him say something overpowers my need to be mad at him, and I reach out and place my hand on his bicep gently.
âAre you okay?â I sound like that feeble girl from so long ago that imprinted on him and not the person Iâve grown into these past weeks.
When faced with this guy, it seems I become a submissive, lovesick fool, and I silently hate myself for it.
Colton seems different now as I sit and evaluate his profile in the backlight shining at us from the black four-by-four in front.
He looks like Colton, still a cute boy with prominent dimples whenever he moves his face, which could melt any grown-ass womanâs panties.
He is still a handsome, dreamy, pretty boy face, with that air of cheeky confidence, yet he seems older, more mature, maybe slightly aging.
It has him seemingly less carefree high school jock and somehow more severe and capable in a way he wasnât before.
Thereâs been a shift, and some of his youthful light has gone out. Thereâs a sense of darkness around him that was never there, and without tapping into his feelings, I donât know what it is.
Itâs more than just learning about his mother; it was there when he walked into me outside the truck. Coltonâs carrying a weight, and I want to know what it is.
âI donât want to talk about this right now. I need to⦠just let me be, Lorey. Just for a minute.â He gives a petulant shrug of his arm, so I stop touching him, and itâs like Iâve been scolded.
Itâs an unexpected rebuff from the guy who hugged the life out of me just minutes ago with sheer need, and now Iâm not allowed to touch him.
I shouldnât be upset. Heâs hurt, heâs processing, and heâs in his head, and itâs pretty hypocritical for me to be mad about that. I didnât want him touching me, and that hasnât changed.
I try to link him, thinking maybe talking that way will help soothe him, away from the docâs ears, and he might be more open to being less cagey with his feelings.
But he has the door closed, and I canât get through at all.
Heâs locked me out in every way, and I donât even know if this is normal behavior for him when heâs nursing pain or if this is because he remembers Iâm not his mate and he should only share that space with her.
Fuck you, Carmen. Fuck you, Colton.
I hate that he can make me feel this way, a new storm swishing inside me, and I have to stop myself from glaring at him. I feel a fresh surge of conflicting pain, and I resist the urge to slap him.
I sit back in my chair and pull my legs under me, hauling my body in tight to self-soothe, calm the torrent of crazy, and try not to stare at him.
Itâs hard when heâs right there yet feels a thousand miles away, and my emotions are in an uproar. I canât even pick a side and stick to it.
Iâm so confused by my idiot thoughts and responses. I want to be mad at him and hate him.
I have every right, but when heâs near, I canât stop this overwhelming pain and heartbreak he causes me, although, right now, Iâve added compassion and empathy to that mix.
Iâm dying inside for him, even while cursing him. I want to ease his pain, and as stupid as it seems, Iâm devastated heâs closing me out like it has nothing to do with me.
âWhere are we going?â I utter his way, unable to not say something to him, even though he said he doesnât want to talk.
Colton exhales with a sigh that signals heâs not really into answering but is compelled to do so. I canât sit in painful silence feeling like this.
âTo the manor I inherited from my mom. Itâs someplace my father had no control over. Itâs where weâve been staying these past weeks. Lorey, I told you, so much has changed.â
Coltonâs eyes flick my way. He frowns at me, sighs again, and then looks back at the road but doesnât elaborate.
I get heâs currently working through some of his own shit in his mind, but an explanation would be nice. This minimal chat bullshit isnât working for me.
âSuch as?â I push, locking my eyes on him with a flash of stubbornness.
I canât miss how his whole body tenses upâthe exhale, his frustrated grip on the steering wheel because itâs obvious I wonât shut up and leave him alone.
And that has him rolling his shoulders to relieve tension while he concludes that answering me is inevitable.
âThe pack is divided. Half are here with me, the others at the mountain. There was a fight when I challenged my father for leadership, and it got real messy.
âWith more attacks in the west, the people were turning, and he was becoming a dictator, forcing the people under his command and treating them like they were all his prisoners.
âI had to do something, and he didnât like it. He lost! Iâm the rightful alpha of the Santo pack now, but instead of stepping down gracefully as the laws dictate, he ordered those loyal to him to take out me and mine.â
His tone is exasperated, explaining something he doesnât want to, and it revs up that aura of closed-off hostility around him.
I gawk at him in wide-eyed shock, heart thundering crazily, trying to pull those words together. It hits me that while I was having my existential crisis, so was he.
âI donât know what to say,â I stammer, side-swept with that revelation of events that I honestly never saw coming at all.
That explains that cloak of darkness around Colton.
Since I left, his entire world turned upside down, and his father already gave him reason to hate him, making my enlightening news less unbelievable. My memories only added fuel to his fire.