The Alpha's Prisoner
Leo, still crouched by the outlet, called over without looking up: "For the record, he already had opinions about the paint. He mentioned something about the blue being 'too cold' twenty minutes before you got here."
"Ryker."
"I'm leaving," I said, already backing toward the door, fighting a smile. "The blue is fine. Whatever blue you want is the correct blue."
Her laughter followed me out into the hallway, warm and unguarded, and I stood there for a moment just listening to it, letting it settle something in my chest that had been tight since the moment Kade had told me about the fire.
Whatever came next—Marcus, Valdez, the burned records, the unknown party who might have destroyed them—thi