Change of Heart - Hailey Edwards Page 0,38

to overhear that.”

Midas didn’t comfort her. He was too riled, his feral half too alert to a potential threat to his mate. Instead he led the way to brief the enforcers for the night, unsure how to smooth things over with Hadley and wishing he had time to call his sister. Just to hear her voice and remind himself she was okay, that she had survived. For the first time, it felt like maybe they both had.

Ten

“Don’t ask me to give up the one thing I’ve chosen for myself.”

That choice soundbite, paired with Midas decking Ford at the cabin, left me with few illusions Midas was taking our courtship seriously. As in, he was picturing a life with me. As in, he wanted that big M word at the end of it. As in, he wanted me to…

As in, he wanted me.

Me.

What was he thinking? Had he met me? I was a hot mess. Steaming hot. Flaming hot. Solar flare hot.

The packmates I met at the den had been kind to me, and I was now madly in love with Samzilla, but the first glimpse they got of me wasn’t the same version as what Ares and the other enforcers at the Faraday saw. They had fought alongside me, patched me up, and witnessed the troubles that came with my position. They had the clearest perspective outside my team of what I brought to Atlanta, and what I cost it too.

That Ares, who I had considered a friend, provoked Midas into making that comment hurt.

A lot.

No conversation leading up to that declaration could be a good one.

The unexpected delivery had put me in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now my head wasn’t where it ought to be prior to infiltrating a club full of dealers ready to poison the city for a few extra bucks. I had to shut down this self-doubt before it got me—and Midas—killed.

“This is going to be one of those nights.” I let myself into my apartment and set the boxes in the entryway. “I can feel it.”

Ambrose, who didn’t care one whit about the Peachy Keen color of the month, circled the boxes.

“What’s got your tail in a twist?” I watched him spin faster and faster. “They’re just sheets.”

Had I not been grinding my teeth so loudly, I might have heard the subtle tick, tick, tick.

I definitely heard the boom.

Eleven

The floor trembled beneath his feet, and Midas knew in his bones that his world was ending.

“What was that?” Hand over her heart, Ares scanned the ceiling. “It sounded like…”

An explosion.

Alarms screamed through the room, deafening him, but he ignored the ringing in his ears.

All Midas could see beyond the red haze of his beast rising was the stack of boxes Hadley had been carrying. He skipped the elevator and hit the stairs, running as fast as his preternatural strength allowed. Prayers he had forgotten how to shape fell from his lips, pleas for mercy, for Hadley.

The knob on the door leading to her floor scalded his hand when he grasped it, and his heart lurched. He ignored the stink of skin cooking and yanked until it fell off its hinges. A gust of smoke blasted his face, and his eyes watered from the heat.

“Hadley,” he screamed over the roaring flames licking up the walls. “Hadley.”

Man and beast synced with a tectonic shift within him, and the two discordant halves aligned in a desperate bid to pool their resources to reach their mate.

Rushing into the hall, he pivoted toward her apartment and almost fell to his knees.

The door was gone, and shrapnel peppered the hall. Open sky nursed whirling smoke through the shattered windows, but the haze persisted as the fire burned hotter and spread faster than was natural.

“Goddamn it, Hadley.” His voice broke on her name. “Answer me.”

“Here.” A throaty cough pinpointed her location. “I’m here.”

Midas sprinted down the hall, burst into her apartment, and found her seated on a perfect circle of uncharred flooring.

“You set a circle,” he breathed, and instantly regretted it. “Thank God.”

With her finger, she smudged the line and lunged for him. “You’re on fire.”

“I’ll heal.” He would have carried her, but he couldn’t get his hands to work. “Don’t…worry…about me.”

“Your hair.” She hit him in the head and on the neck. “Why are you so flammable?”

Hair product, he wanted to quip, for one more of those smiles, but the edges of the hall warped and twisted as he ran out of oxygen.

Too much smoke in his lungs.

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