A loud knock at the door disrupted their amorous activities right as things were heating up.
Della scrambled upright and yanked her shirt back into place as Cal flopped his head dramatically back on the pillow, flinging an arm over his face with a groan. In hindsight, she might’ve been surprised a man who’d been unconscious for three days would segue directly into making out upon awakening minus one foot, and yet, she had to admit she wasn’t sad about it. Sweeping a glance over Cal’s bedded body, she internally cringed at the bandaged lump under the covers, dismayed they hadn’t even discussed his injury.
Another knock rattled the door, and Della recognized its briskly impatient cadence. Pressing a hand to her churning belly, she swung the door open and stepped aside to let Hunter into her home.
“Hey.” His sharp glance took in her tousled appearance before cutting over to where Cal was pulling himself up to sitting. Hunter quirked a brow at her, mischievousness crinkling his eyes. “Our patient’s awake?”
“Obviously,” she said, hiding her flaming cheeks and disheveled embarrassment by darting back to the bed and vigorously fluffing and rearranging the pillows behind Cal’s back.
Truth be told, things between her and Hunter hadn’t been exactly smooth since the night of the fire. He’d apologized more than once for his callous treatment of their friendship and the confusion that had left Cal chained up like an animal and left to die. In fact, a steady stream of shame-faced Alphas continuously graced her doorway since that night, each of them offering their apologies and condolences and making polite inquiries about Cal’s recovery. More than one emphasized their remorse over the loss of his foot and expressed a commitment to help in any way they could with his recovery.
She’d had little emotional bandwidth for anything but worry over Cal, yet her conflicting feelings about the Pack occupied what little she had. These Alphas had been part of her life for the better part of twenty-odd years. Twenty stable, safe, productive years where she’d been able to have her own home and reconstruct some semblance of a normal life after decades of fear and chaos. Sure, they aggravated her and irritated her on the regular, but thanks in part to their efforts (along with her own, of course), she’d been able to live for the first time since TheEnd without constantly looking over her shoulder or worrying where her next meal would come from. Things she would never again take for granted.
Not that she owed the Morris Hill Alphas anything, not after the events of the past week, but her loyalty to them demanded consideration. In truth, Della wanted to believe them, forgive and move forward. But with Cal unconscious, she’d refrained from offering words of reconciliation out of respect for her mate. In her mind, Cal possessed every right to be beyond furious. For her to offer absolution on his behalf before he’d had a chance to confront them himself struck her as insensitive and disloyal, akin to adding insult to his already-significant injury. So, she’d held back, focused on caring for his inert body, and waited.
But that didn’t keep her from spending many unsettled hours contemplating this eventual pending confrontation. Would Cal make nice with Hunter? What about the rest of the Pack? Or would he insist that they leave Morris Hill once he fully healed? The same worries bounced around her anxious brain as she twisted her fingers together.
In truth, she didn’t really want to go anywhere else, especially now after the worst incident in the settlement’s history, but she would. If Cal couldn’t stomach staying a part of the Pack that almost killed him, she wouldn’t argue. They would go wherever he wanted, and she would face the wide world again with him at her side.
“Cal.” Hunter strode over to shake her mate’s hand, and Della’s gaze flashed between the two Alphas on instant high alert. “Glad to have you back with us,” Hunter said evenly.
With a serious nod, Cal released the shake. “I take it the settlement is still standing.”
Too anxious to sit still, Della grabbed a chair and brought it to the bedside. Hunter tipped his head to her in thanks and eased himself down, smothering a groan as he took a load off. Poor man likely hadn’t slept more than four hours in the past three days.
Cal leaned back to test the pillow arrangement, tossing Della a grateful smile. With a nudge of his chin, he summoned her back to his side, where she obediently went and perched by his knees, keeping both Alphas in her sights, ready to defend her Alpha at any sign of conflict. Cal’s hand came to rest on her thigh, and he gave it a friendly squeeze, pushing a pulse of reassurance down the bond.
“The mess hall is gone,” Hunter said.
The corner of Cal’s lip edged upward. “Kinda figured as much.”
“The good news is the fire didn’t spread. The bad news is that our food supply was wiped out, along with the kitchen and cooking facilities. To add to that, we gained some more Omegas in the whole mess, so more mouths to feed.” He raked his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair till it stuck out like a burly porcupine. “Priority number one is getting the kitchen and mess hall rebuilt and replenishing the food.”
Della listened intently. All of this was news to her as well as to Cal. Given Cal’s unconsciousness, she hadn’t left his side to check on the state of things in the village. Guilt soured the churning mélange of her belly. Who was looking out for the new Omegas and getting them settled? Besides somewhere to live (all the more reason for an Omega bunkhouse now), they likely needed new clothes and everything else, and Della hadn’t spared them a single thought.
“Where did you put the new Omegas?” Della asked. “How are they?”
Hunter leaned back and stretched his legs with some audible cracks. “We got ‘em set up in some tents. It’s not ideal, but it’s dry, at least. They’re a half-starved, bedraggled group, not too willing to talk to anyone. ‘Course we’re happy to have ‘em, no one’s mad about more Omegas”—his mouth formed an ironic smirk—“but it’s gonna take a while for them to trust us.”
“Housing would go a long way toward establishing that trust,” Della said gently. “After the mess hall and the kitchen, they need somewhere more permanent.”
Hunter gave a brisk nod. “Colt’s on top of it. He’s already got the Alphas convinced an Omega bunkhouse is a good idea.”
Della smoothed a wrinkle on the bedclothes, feeling a small measure of triumph. One knot in her snarl of worries untangled. “That’s good.”
Cal cleared his throat. “And the attackers?”
“A few ran off when it became clear things weren’t going their way. We tried to chase ‘em down, but they were sneaky bastards,” Hunter explained bitterly. “They distracted us by setting the fire, and I think they had some horses hidden to make a fast escape. Could’ve tried to go after them, but we made a decision to find the Omegas instead.”
“It was so crazy that night,” Della said, remembering the heat blasting off the fire as she’d frantically sawed her way through Cal’s leg. She swallowed back a mouthful of saliva. “I’m surprised they all didn’t escape.”
“The ones who didn’t weren’t in any shape to make a run for it,” Hunter said darkly, a renewed tension seasoning the air.
Cal’s fingers cinched harder around Della’s thigh, and his voice took on a menacing note. “What’d you do with them?”
Refusing to shy away from the question and its inherent test, Hunter made meaningful eye contact with Cal. “They’re taken care of,” he said coldly.
Cal responded with an approving grunt. “And Silas?”