(WESLEY)
I follow closely behind Miles to his study in strained silence.
I'm not sorry that I saved Jericho's life, though I know that it hurts his ego in a way. Anxiety eats at me as I watch him go up the stairs. I want to talk to him. I want to comfort him even though I know that he wouldn't want that now. Sometimes, I hate how prideful alphas are. I see no logical reason why an omega wouldn't be as brave as an alpha. Every day, I keep hoping that those stereotypes will die, but they are alive and kicking. What even makes them worse is the macho nature of the syndicate culture.
"What the hell were you thinking carrying a gun?" Miles growls, breaking my fixation on Jericho.
I meet his dark gaze nervously. "Why is everyone so agitated that I carried a gun? You all carry, so why shouldn't I?"
My response seems to throw him off and he hesitates at first. "Because you were around the baby."
