Goodbye, My Mate

Chapter 195

Lucas' POV

The girl's hands danced. Apron strings became a lover's knot at her waist. Eggs cracked one-handed, yolks bobbing like liquid suns. I watched, transfected, as she transformed slaughter into sacrament—French toast glazed in maple, coffee dark as a sinner's heart.

"How did you do it?" I gestured at the golden crust.

She flipped a pancake. "Alpha Finn liked his girls versatile."

The first bite dissolved on my tongue—cinnamon, nutmeg, vengeance.

"Why do you rub your neck like that?" the girl asked.

"I don't know. I slept on the couch and woke up like this..."

Before I finished, she circled behind me, palms hovering above my neck.

"May I?"

"Well..." I mumbled.

Her touch was wildfire. Knuckles pressed the base of my skull, thumbs working knots from muscle. I groaned.

"Quiet," she chided, but her fingers lingered. "You're worse than dogs."

I lifted up my head and howled to the ceiling.

She couldn't stop giggling.

Then, she noticed that I was looking at her.

"What?" she blushed and lowered her head.

"You were smiling. I have never seen you smiling," I said.

"I only smile when I feel like doing so," she said. "And you need some coffee."

Sunlight caught her profile as she served coffee. She looked like a goddess.

The cup warmed my palms. "Could you please sit down and have breakfast with me?"

She looked wary.

I pulled out a chair for her and said, "Come on, sit down here. I won't bite."

She dragged the chair a bit further away from me and sat down, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Her spoon clinked against china. "The eggs needed salt."

"I like it," I stared at her and said. "It's the best breakfast I've ever had in my life."

"You're just hungry," she looked away.

I pulled her chair all the way next to me, so our knees almost touched.

The chain on her ankles was dragging on the floor, clanking all the way.

"What are you doing?" she frowned.

"Just want to express my appreciation to the chef," I whispered to her ear. She smelled so delicious.

I saw goosebumps on her skin.

She obviously panicked, so she grabbed up the sugar can and said, "Do you need sugar in your coffee?"

Sweet as the coffee sliding down my throat. As the way her pulse jumped when our fingers brushed.

Finn's mistake was obvious now - you don't break a blade.

You aim it.

--

The headache was a live wire behind my eyes. "Why," I ground out, digging my thumbs into my temples, "did you grind his skull into the plaster?”

"He stepped on my neck!"The man's howl rattled the chandelier.

I swiveled to the other, sweat-soaked and reeking of rye. "And you?”

"He's a thief!"He jabbed a sausage-thick finger. "Stole my wallet—”

"You're a liar!”

"You're a cock-sucking liar!”

They lunged, all teeth and knuckles, a tangle of snarls. I kicked the table between them. Wood splintered. "Out," I said, too quietly. They froze. "Or I'll let the rats sort your bones tonight."

The door slammed. Silence, blessed and brief, before the thousand-needle headache returned. Fuck. I needed a driver loyal to rot, not Finn's sycophants. Needed to peel open that cursed lab's ribs before this whole place ate me alive—

"Alpha Lucas!"A guard saluted, blood crusting his knuckles. "Caught a thief."

"Hands. Then the pits." I didn't look up. I had my share of sixth grade drama today.

"Oh, no! It's so not fair!" A wail tore through the room—high, theatrical, familiar.

Jorah?

He knelt in a mud-streaked slave's tunic, wrists bound, that damnable hound-eyed gaze locked on mine. A fresh scar split his brow, but the grin was pure poison.

"Leave," I barked at the guards.

The click of the lock hadn't faded before I was on him, slicing ropes. He launched into my arms, all snot and stink and shuddering joy. "They said you were dead! Burned! But I knew—knew—you're still alive! You wouldn't just abandon me like that! I've been looking for you all this time! And a guy at the Inn told me that you were here in the slave market. I didn't believe him at first, but that dude seemed to be legit, so I came here as a slave and I saw you. And I wanted to steal a melon to get your attention, but there wasn't any melon at this time of the year. So I thought to myself, maybe a wallet? But I had to really weigh my options because everyone's so ghetto..."

I gripped his chin to stop his blabbing. "How's our Pack?"

His smile faltered. "Scattered. Like ash. We need you back, Alpha."

A muscle jumped in my jaw. "I'll fix it. But first, I need—"

"A driver?" He leaned back, all innocence. "Shame. I only drive limos. Do you still have one?"

"I don't have one. But I know where to get one," I replied.

The laugh tore free before I could stop it.

Home, it meant.

Soon.

--

The soldier's boot squeaked on polished concrete as he blocked the garage entrance. "Alpha Lucas—your destination?"

I let the silence stretch, watching his Adam’s apple bob. "Do I smell like an Omega needing permission to piss?”

He paled. "No, Alpha. Forgive me."

"A ride." I adjusted my cufflinks, silver wolves devouring their own tails. "Now."

"At once." He clicked his heels. "The armored Audi—"

"I'll pick the car." I stepped closer, catching his scent—rotten plums, fear-sweat. "Unless my brother keeps better company with cars than his own kin?"

The soldier's pulse fluttered at his throat. "The garage… it's Alpha Finn's private collection."

"How fortunate we share the same blood." I smiled, all teeth. "Open it."

He hesitated, fingers twitching toward his radio.

I leaned in, whisper curling like smoke. "Or shall I tell my brother you barred me? I hear he skins men slower when he's disappointed."

The door groaned upward, revealing a chamber of steel and greed. Jorah whistled low, fingers trailing over hood ornaments. "Male strippers always did overcompensate."

The soldier twitched. "Alpha Lucas, are you sure an Audi A6 won't do? Our Audi has bulletproof—"

"What are you? Trying to sell me an Audi or something? Are you working on commision here?" I frowned.

"I'm sorry, Sir!" the soldier straightened up.

"Driver," I snapped.

Jorah materialized, grease smeared artfully on his cheek. "Present."

The soldier's nostrils flared. "No offend, Alpha Lucas. But he's a child."

I drew my thumb along the Rolls’ obsidian paint. A hairline scratch bloomed. "Care to repeat that?"

The man fled.

I stared at the Rolls' and said, "There's something missing from the car."

"What's that?" Jorah raised an eyebrow.