11. ETHAN

Chapter eleven

ETHAN

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon as I make my way back to the house, clutching the warm pastry bag in one hand and a double shot caramel espresso in the other. The aroma hits my nose, sweet and rich, teasing my senses, but not enough to distract me from the buzz humming beneath my skin. My steps are lighter than they should be this early, my thoughts swirling with the memory of hazel eyes and dark hair. The scent of almond and sandalwood lingers in my nose, wrapping around my chest like a tether.

I push the front door open with my shoulder, kicking it shut behind me before realizing that I never locked up. Zana is standing in the entryway, her arms crossed over her chest, the large shirt she's wearing doing little to hide the strength of her frame. She’s staring at me, unimpressed and more than a little worried.

“You’re up early,” she says, her tone sharp enough to make me wince. “And out. Without telling me.”

I grin, setting the bag and coffee on the counter. “I texted you,” I say, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “Besides, I come bearing gifts, oh great and powerful goddess.” My voice wobbles, belying some of the anxiety from meeting Reid.

Her eyebrow arches, but her lips twitch, betraying the faintest hint of amusement. “Goddess?”

“Obviously,” I say, stepping closer and wrapping my arms around her waist. I rest my chin on her chest, angling my head up so that I’m looking straight into those beautiful eyes of hers. “Because you are. And guess what? I found it.”

“Found what?” she asks, her hands slowly moving to cup my cheeks. Her thumbs brush across the flushed skin from the early morning chill as she searches my expression.

“The scent,” I muse. “The one I’ve been chasing for weeks. I found who it belongs to.” A wild grin spreads across my lips as I focus on my Beta. Despite the circumstances, I at least know who he is. Now I just have to get to him.

Her brows knit together, confusion flickering across her face. But before she can say anything, I raise up on my tiptoes, stretching to kiss her. She doesn’t resist, her lips soft and warm against mine, grounding me for a moment in the chaos of my thoughts. When I pull back, I spin away, practically dancing around the kitchen. “Zana, it was incredible. He—he’s incredible.”

She raises a hand to stop me from falling into one of my monologues. “Slow down,” she says, her Alpha tone creeping in. “Sit.”

“But—”

“ Sit, Ethan.”

I pout but obey, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs and leaning forward, my elbows on the table. Zana follows, her arms still crossed as she stands over me, her presence commanding. My gaze shifts around the kitchen for several seconds, the need to spill everything about this man growing. My brows furrow the longer she makes me wait, Zana’s lips curling up. It takes me way too long to realize she’s laughing at me.

“Baby, I made you sit because you have a tendency to run around when you get excited. So now, explain.”

My nose turns up in mock annoyance before I begin. “It was at the diner,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I went to grab the pastries you like—you’re welcome, by the way—and he was there. In the back booth. Asleep. And his scent, Zana—oh my god, it was like... everything. Almond and sandalwood, but deeper, richer. It just hit me.” A whine slips from my lips, my cock twitching in my pants.

She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head slightly, encouraging me to go on.

“He has these eyes,” I continue, my hands gesturing wildly. “That makes you want to stare forever. And his hair? Dark, like midnight, but not flat, you know? Like, it shines. And his features—chiseled, perfect. He looked like he walked out of a damn painting.” Even beneath the bruises, he was fucking gorgeous. He’s everything. I only had a few seconds with him and I’m obsessed.

“And?” Zana prompts, a mixture of amusement and concern in her voice.

“And he was hurt,” I finally let out, my hands stilling as the memory of those bruises flickers through my mind. “Like, bad. A black eye, swelling, bruises on his hands—Zana, someone hurt him. And I need to go find out who, and—” I jump out of my chair, a sudden need to rescue him building in my chest. I’m not even sure where it came from.

Zana places a hand to my shoulder and pushes me back onto the chair, a snarl on her lips. It isn’t completely directed at me but it gets the point across all the same. “Absolutely the fuck not. No,” she interrupts, her voice cutting through my building momentum.

I blink at her, startled. “No?”

She leans down, placing her hands on the table on either side of me, her face inches from mine. “Ethan, baby, you are not storming out of here to fight someone you’ve never met over a Beta you saw for two minutes.”

“But he’s ours,” I argue, my chest tightening at the thought of Reid’s bruised face. “I felt it, Zana. He’s—”

“I know, baby,” she purrs, the Alpha sound calming me enough to relax. “I believe you. But you’re not charging off half-cocked and getting yourself in trouble. Sit here, eat your pastry, and let me handle this.” Before I can protest, she picks up the bag from the counter, pulling out one of the flaky, golden croissants. She breaks off a piece and presses it to my lips. “Eat.”

I glare at her but open my mouth, biting down on the pastry. It’s buttery and sweet, melting on my tongue, but I barely taste it. My mind is still on Reid, on his bruises, on the way he bolted like he thought I was going to hurt him. I wasn’t. I would never do that.

Zana straightens, pulling her phone from the counter. My chewing slows as I watch her tap at the screen, her expression tightening.

“What are you doing?” I mumble around the bite of pastry.

“Making a call.”

“To who?”

She doesn’t answer, just glances at me with a faint smirk. I squirm in my seat, swallowing the pastry as my mind races. The sound of her dialing fills the kitchen and I lean forward, trying to see the screen. Whoever she’s calling, one thing is clear—Zana isn’t leaving this alone.

And neither am I.

I can’t stop replaying the moment in my head. Over and over, like a scratched record that refuses to move on. Reid, slumped in that back booth, his dark hair falling over his face, the soft rise and fall of his chest. The scent—warm almond and sandalwood, sweet but edged with something deeper. And those eyes. Hazel, but not just any hazel. They held something unspoken, something raw. Pain. And when they locked onto mine, it felt like the world shifted under my feet.

The pull in my chest is maddening, an ache that grows the more I think about him. He looked fragile and strong all at once, like he’s been holding himself together with sheer willpower. The bruises on his face, the way he bolted like a scared animal when I tried to approach—it’s burned into my memory. Someone hurt him. Someone who had no right to lay a hand on my Beta.

I chew furiously on the pastry, my knee bouncing under the table. The flaky crumbs fall onto the paper bag, but I don’t care. My mind is racing, already brainstorming ways to find him again. He’s out there somewhere, probably hurting, and I can’t stand the thought of him being alone.

A list begins to form in my head: clothes, phone, charger, some cash—whatever I might need to find him. I grab a pen from the counter and scribble the items down on the back of a takeout menu, the pastry clenched between my teeth as I write. The sugar is almost too sweet, but it doesn’t stop me from biting off another piece, my thoughts spiraling.

It’s halfway through my third bite that I pause, my brows furrowing. Wait a second. These aren’t Zana’s favorite pastries. They’re mine. She’s been picking them up for me all this time, hasn’t she? My sweet tooth, not hers.

I look up at her, sitting across from me with that amused glint in her eyes, her phone pressed to her ear. She notices my expression and raises an eyebrow. “What’s that face for?” she asks, though she already knows.

“You’ve been lying about these being your favorite,” I say, my voice muffled by the pastry in my mouth.

She laughs, a low, warm sound that makes my heart stutter. “I never said they were mine, ” she muses, leaning forward to run a hand through my hair. “You just assumed.”

I narrow my eyes at her, chewing faster out of sheer defiance. She shakes her head, her laughter softening as she leans back in her chair. But then her tone shifts as she refocuses on the call and I realize she’s talking to someone. My chewing slows as I strain to listen.

“Margie,” she begins, her voice calm but carrying that distinct Alpha edge. “About the Beta that was in the diner earlier. Do you know anything about him?”

I sit up straighter, my heart racing. My Beta. She’s talking about Reid.

There’s a pause and I can faintly hear Margie's voice owner on the other end. “Why does it matter?” Margie asks cautiously. “Is he in trouble?”

“No,” Zana replies, her tone softening. “Not at all. It’s just... my Omega is convinced they’re mates. We just want to meet him.”

My cheeks flush, but I don’t interrupt. The other end of the line goes quiet for a moment before Margie speaks again, her voice low. “I don’t have any contact info for him. All I know is the pack he’s contracted to—the Wilhelms.”

Zana’s expression darkens, her jaw tightening. “Is his pack the one hurting him?” Her words end in a growl as I snatch another pastry and stuff it into my mouth, needing to do something lest I try to march out of the house again.

“I can’t answer that,” Margie snaps. “If you want to meet Reid, you’ll have to go through his pack. That’s all I can tell you.”

Zana sighs, leaning back in her chair. “Thank you,” she pushes out, her tone clipped as she ends the call.

I’m already halfway out of my chair again , the list forgotten as adrenaline courses through me. “Let’s go, then,” I demand. “We’ll talk to his pack. Now.” There’s absolutely nothing I can do in this situation and facing another pack, one with Alphas could be a detriment to my health and safety. My Alpha won’t even let me visit my own father’s house alone—no way would she let me attempt this rescue mission.

“Ethan.” Zana’s voice is steady, but there’s a warning in it. She sets her phone on the table and looks at me, her dark eyes locking onto mine. “Sit down.”

“But—”

“ Sit. ”

Her Alpha bark rolls through me, my desire to act out and obey warring with themselves. After a few moments of indecision, I drop back into the chair, my fists clenching in my lap. “Why are we waiting?” I demand. “He’s hurt. He looked like he was running from something. Someone. I need to—”

“You—we—need to tread carefully,” she interrupts me again. “If Reid is a pack Beta, he’s contracted by law. That means his pack owns him, Ethan. Legally. Do you understand what that means?”

I stare at her, my chest tightening. “That’s why he left so fast,” I say, the realization hitting me like a punch in the gut. “When I tried to talk to him—he ran because he’s not allowed to... to be with me.” That’s the absolute worst-case scenario and I hate it. I might not be a lawyer like my Alpha but even I know that nullifying a pack Beta’s contract is nearly impossible these days.

“It’s likely.” Zana sighs, her shoulders falling as a bit of sadness runs through her expression. “And if that’s the case, barging into his life without understanding his situation will only make things worse. For him and for you.”

I swallow hard, the weight of her words settling over me. “So what do we do?”

“I’ll contact his pack,” she says. “Set up a meeting and go from there. But I need you to be patient, Ethan. This isn’t going to be simple and there are no guarantees.”

I knew as much but I need to know that he’s okay, even more so now. I want to believe that his pack—that the Wilhelms aren’t hurting him but I know better. “Okay,” I mumble. “But we have to find him.”

My mind won’t stop replaying the bruises on Reid’s face—the dark shadow blooming around his eye, the way his jaw clenched even in sleep. Someone did that to him. Someone who was supposed to protect him.

His pack.

The thought makes my stomach churn, rage bubbling beneath my skin like molten lava. I know what mental pain feels like. My father made sure of that, with his strict rules and constant sermons about what an Omega should be. About what I should be. But physical pain? Not like that. Not like what I saw on Reid’s face.

My father’s words cut deep, yes, but they didn’t leave marks on my body. They didn’t make me flinch at every shadow, at every touch. The idea that someone hurt Reid like that, someone who claimed to care for him, makes me want to scream, to break something, to—

“Ethan,” Zana murmurs, pulling me out of my spiral. She sets the last pastry in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips. “Eat.”

I hate that a combination of sugar and sweet words from my Alpha make it so easy to relax. I want to hold onto this anger, let it simmer, and lash out when we find the Wilhelms. However, as soon as the sugar hits my tongue, a little moan slips out, Zana tugging me into her lap. “Come here, baby,” she purrs as I crawl into her hold, her arms wrapping around me in a protective cocoon.

I grumble around another bite of pastry, refusing to meet her eyes. “He’s hurt,” I mumble, my voice muffled. “And it’s their fault. His pack’s fault. How am I supposed to just... wait?” Especially with a pack like the Wilhelms. They're influential and rich bastards who apparently treat their Betas horribly.

Her hand moves to my back, stroking slowly, her touch as steady as her scent. “You’re not supposed to just wait,” she says. “You’re supposed to trust me. Trust us. We’ll find a way to help him, but running off and confronting his pack alone isn’t going to do him any favors.”

I know she’s right. I know that barging into the Wilhelms’ house, demanding answers, would only make things worse. For me. For Reid. But the thought of him being stuck there, with them, makes my chest ache in a way I can’t ignore.

I chew furiously, focusing on the pastry to keep myself from saying something reckless.

“You feel better knowing who he is, though, don’t you?”

I nod reluctantly. “Yeah,” I admit, swallowing the last bite of pastry. “I do. It’s a start, at least.”

I know we need to wait. Zana’s right. Of course, she’s right. Reid doesn’t need me charging in like some kind of savior, making his life more complicated than it already is. He needs... what? Comfort? Stability? A way out?

I don’t know and that uncertainty eats at me.

“Fine,” I grumble, curling tighter against her chest. “I won’t do anything stupid. Yet.”

She huffs a soft laugh, her lips pressing against the side of my neck just over her bite. “Good. That’s all I ask.”

We sit there for a while, the silence stretching out between us. Zana sips her coffee, her other arm still wrapped around me, while I finish the pastry in small, deliberate bites. The anger hasn’t gone away—it’s still there, smoldering like embers—but it’s quieter now, tempered by the feel of her holding me close.

For now, that’s enough.