2. Sawyer (Continued)

“I don’t need babysitting Sawyer,” Phoebe complains. Of course. As always.

“It’s not babysitting. It’s guarding. It’s also not an option. Now go inside,” I bark. She slams the door in my face, muttering expletives before gentle, sobbing noises eke out from under the wooden door.

Half an hour later, Eleanor reopens it and whispers, “Thank you Sawyer. You’re a good friend to us.”

“Just following orders,” I lie again.

It’s just responsibility to the pack. I’d do the same for anyone else.

We’re not even friends. I’m fairly certain I’m her nemesis.

Well in a few weeks she’ll be chasing full moon dances like the rest of them. Probably mated to someone easily bossed around like Dash or Theo.

Phoebe Kharkov coming of age. Bizarre, considering she sometimes has the temperament of a five year old. I imagine when she isn’t scowling, cursing or running away, she could be considered a beauty.

She's clever too when doesn’t shrink in on herself or resort to childish insults. Coming at me with every logical argument for leaving her alone. I feel sorry for her sometimes.

Shaking my head, I settle in for a long night of leaning against a wall.

The hours pass into darkness. The mood of the town curdles as rumours fly about. Turning off the mindlink has unsettled everyone.

I’m not leaving this spot though, even if I can’t justify why.

Especially when Phoebe tries to leave again. “Just move dickhead.”

“No. You’re in here until Cillian returns. Where the hell would you even go right now?”

“It’s none of your business!”

I stand using my full body to block her in. “Just fucking move Sawyer!” and thankfully her punches are nothing like her twin sisters.

Merely annoying rather than internally catastrophic. She even jumps up and pulls out my hair tie, just to try and get a rise out of me before Eleanor grabs her, she smirks with victory as I stand there looking ridiculous with my white hair tufted like a chicken.

Just as Finn finally arrives, all in a flurry, asking for Naomi. Bianca Jackson has been checking on her but she’s juggling Maya and Aria too.

“You keeping them captive?” he checks, but though he outranks me I’m not moving from this spot. The three sisters should have died today. Leona is gone but why risk the others? My hands are still covered in Phoebe’s blood from yanking out the metal shard.

“Is that Finn?” Phoebe called from behind the door. “Finn, tell him to let me out! I need to see Naomi!”

Finn gives me a confused look but a piercing scream from the packhouse sees him head off into the darkness to find his broken-hearted mate instead of asking questions.

It’s not like Phoebe magically confides in me when I eventually get her to give in and come back to the packhouse.

I’m not her relative. We haven’t grown up together. We don’t share secrets or talk about feelings. Ninety percent of the time it’s pure, resentful silence.

The other ten percent she’s calling me a witless fuckmonkey wanker or some other inventive new insult she’s come up with.

Leaning back against the doorframe, arms folded I try to think of something else that doesn’t involve Phoebe or burning flesh and screaming torment.

Plus, Cillian will reopen the mindlink soon and orders will inevitably follow.

It would be too easy to say Phoebe is just an idiotic brat. I’ve known enough of those.

In fact I’m fucking one. Not often, but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying pleasure. Diane Jackson. I know I’m her second choice compared to Finn, but he’s too hung up on Naomi, especially now she’s back. Mate-bond woes.

Phoebe hurls some more insults at me through the door but doesn’t try opening it again.

"Are you leaving soon?" she checks.

"Nope you're stuck with me tonight."

"Okay," her answer as vague as can be.

"You're welcome by the way."

"What the hell for?"

"Yanking that metal out of your leg?" I remind her, my head never really leaving the place where I held her shoulders and stared into her sad eyes.

"Yes. thank you ever so much for scarring me."

I sigh and give up. Keeping an eye on the passersby. I say nothing as Finn eventually gently guides Naomi out of the packhouse, Rami on his shoulders.

Finn’s the closest thing I have to a brother. Not that we do anything other than take the piss out of each other. Getting him to fall through that roof was spectacular. Also gave me a damn good reason to hang out in Diane’s bedroom on the pretence of repair-work for a few afternoons too.

The warrior men of the Shadowlands are my family. Even so, war changes things. Finn’s happy-go-lucky nature ended the instant Naomi walked out on him and their bond two years ago. Mine comes and goes. A few beers and I’ll chuckle and play pranks with the best of them.

I’m just keeping the past at bay, playing nice. If Diane ever hinted she had feelings for me I'd be out of there. Maybe I make things more awkward for myself by trying to live without my wolfs involvement.

By the time I’m summoned into Alpha Cillian’s packhouse office, dawn has long-since broken and it’s time to find out just what plans Fate holds for me.