Storm’s stomach clenched. “Well, then I’m going to protect him when I get out of prison.”
“If he lets you.”
Storm shrugged. It wasn’t as though he wouldtellLinus that he was being protected. Storm was just a random alpha from the internet. Linus had no reason to trust him.
He pushed aside the wild dream that maybe, someday, Linus would want to be his omega.
“You don’t even know where he lives.”
“I know that he’s teaching at Meadowfall College. And that’s where you, Jag, and Hades are headed after this place, anyway.”
Fury grinned. “Yeah, we wouldn’t mind if you tagged along. Just wait ‘til I’m asleep before you jerk off to him.”
“I always do.” Storm rolled his eyes. “I’mconsiderate,unlike those jerks over there.”
In the cell across the hallway, Jag and Hades read books and ignored him. But Hades must’ve felt his stare, because he glanced up and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re jerks,” Storm said loudly.
Hades smirked. “Yeah, well. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t be in prison.”
2
PRESENT DAY
The alarm rangfor the third time.
Linus gasped sharply and tumbled out of bed, crashing painfully onto the floor. “Ow!”
One day, he was going to break something if he kept this up.
He fumbled around blindly on his nightstand. His questing fingers landed on his glasses; when he slid them onto the bridge of his nose, the world came into focus.
Then he checked the time and squawked. “I’m late!”
Linus scrambled to the bathroom. Except he remembered too late that he had run out of toothpaste. Last night, he had wrung the tube empty, going so far as to remove its lid so he could stuff his toothbrush bristles into the narrow opening, to scrape out the last bits of toothpaste.
I’ll just use a wet toothbrush to brush my teeth.
Scarcely had he stepped into the bathroom when he glimpsed the tube of toothpaste beside the sink.
It wasn’t all crumpled up like it had been last night. When he picked it up, he realized that there was just a little left in there, maybe enough for two more days.
Linus stared. He checked the trash can—empty.
Then he shrugged. His apartment was weird.
He washed up and headed to the kitchen, opening the fridge.
By some miracle, leftovers had begun appearing a few months ago—scrambled eggs that didn’t seem to run out, extra stew he swore he hadn’t made that much of. They didn’t give him stomachaches, either.
He stuffed a box of eggs into his bag, grabbed his phone and wallet, and glanced at the little table by the front door.
His keys were in the shell-shaped bowl, even though he was certain he had brought them into the kitchen last night.
“Thank you, apartment,” Linus said.
He didn’t believe in magic. He didn’t believe in ghosts, either.
