Page 242 of Unmarked
I follow the smell like a bloodhound with trust issues.
Theo’s at the stove, sleeves pushed up, spatula in hand, brow furrowed like he’s performing a very serious omelet autopsy. Meanwhile, Lucian leans against the counter like a cologne ad came to life: mug in hand, jaw sharp enough to cut granite, posture sayingI own several properties, but eyes softer than they should be.
He looks… calm. Like the man who I felt crater a wall with his fist through our bond might actually be capable of peace.
I hate how hot that is.
“Good morning, Rhea,” Theo says, flipping something in the pan like we’re all just normal people who didn’t spend the last week defiling every surface in this house. “You’re upright. That’s promising.”
“Barely,” I mutter, flopping into a barstool like I’m auditioning to be the world’s most tired pancake. “But if I’m vertical and sarcastic, I call that progress.”
Lucian approaches without a word and places a mug in front of me.
I blink. It’s ginger tea.
Mytea. The one I drink when my headaches make me contemplate sedition.
I blink up at him, caught off guard.
“How did you…”
Lucian shrugs, the tiniest shift of one shoulder. “Lucky guess.”
Sure. And I’m a mild-mannered beta.
I wrap my hands around the mug and let it warm my fingers - and maybe a few shattered pieces of my soul. Just a little.
“You’re lucky,” Theo chimes in from the stove. “Kai and Ash had to run. Work stuff.”
I raise a brow. “Did they say goodbye?”
Theo grins. “Kai said, and I quote, ‘Tell the brat I’ll be back for round three when she can walk straight again.’”
I choke on my tea so hard I nearly astral-project.
Lucian closes his eyes like he’s either meditating or trying not to picture throwing Kai off one of his balconies.
“Well. That’s haunting,” he comments.
Theo slides something golden and perfectly crispy onto a plate.
“Ash said to rest,” Theo continues, utterly unfazed. “And that he’d bring your phone and your camera back later. Since, you know, Kai forgot. Again.”
Thatmakes me freeze.
My phone. My camera. Mylife.Everything outside this alpha-infested fever dream I’ve been trapped in. It feels so far away, like something that belonged to a past version of me. One that had bills and clients and a weird landlord who communicates exclusively in passive-aggressive sticky notes.
But now I can see it again. Just barely.
The silence isn’t awkward - rather, it’s tentative.Like we’re all still figuring out what thisisnow that the worst of it has passed.
Lucian clears his throat. “You slept okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, sharing a private smile. “I did.”
He nods once, then goes still again.
Theo finishes cooking and plates the food with his usual quiet care: eggs, toast, fruit, something sweet-smelling I can’t name.
