Case files? In Highton? That was an hour away from Meadowfall.
Sinclair paled. He gripped his forearm, the tiniest frisson of uncertainty shooting across his face. It had been so long since Dom had seen him that vulnerable, that his instincts said, This is bad.
And the overwhelming urge to protect him rumbled beneath Dom’s skin.
“Fine,” Sinclair muttered, turning away. “Leave me alone, and I’ll go.”
His expression said it was the last thing he wanted to do.
Dom watched as Sinclair stalked off, his shoulders tense. Aside from the loss of appetite, he seemed to be doing okay. Just that he was moving slower than he usually would be. Nate was watching Sinclair, too.
“You know what’s wrong with him?” Dom asked.
Back when they’d hired Nate, Dom had been impressed with his resume. Not so much by his previous jobs—a large chunk of that had been classified—but by his skill sets. The man was familiar with a range of things: emergency medicine, helicopter-piloting, spyware, poisons... the list went on.
Not all of them were applicable in their day-to-day calls, but Dom liked having those skills at his disposal. It helped that Nate learned things fast, too.
And ever since Sinclair joined the station, Dom had heard whispers about how Nate had met him. He’d never asked, though. Never thought it was his business to pry.
Now, he was tempted to.
Nate sent him an assessing look. “He might need support at the medical center. You feeling up to it?”
“Support?” Dom had held Sinclair through his flashbacks. Or did Nate mean something else?
Nate chewed on the inside of his cheek, as though he was trying to decide how much to tell Dom. “You’re involved with him, aren’t you?”
Dom’s neck heated. “It’s... complicated. He’ll say there’s nothing going on.”
Nate gave an exasperated sigh. “I assume he hasn’t told you anything about his past, then.”
“A little.” Dom glanced warily at him. “Is there something I should know?”
Nate checked that no one was listening in. Then, in a lower voice, he said, “What I’ve told Gareth, Harris, and the rest, is that he came from somewhere terrible. He didn’t ask for those scars.”
“Yeah, I know that much.”
Nate studied him. “Did you know about the experimentation?”
“The what?”
“He was the subject of some human experimentation. Toxins, implants, various things. He was one of the doctors’ favorites. For years. I just wish we’d managed to put a stop to it sooner.”
A cold chill twisted through Dom’s gut. He’d seen the scars. He hadn’t thought so much about the purpose behind them, aside from what Sinclair had told him. “He only said he has a tolerance for pain and poison.”
Sinclair never said how he’d achieved that. And how else would he have, aside from being made to suffer through all of it? Dom could imagine him being tied down, he could imagine Sinclair screaming in agony. It sent a sick horror creeping through his veins.
When Nate said nothing, Dom thought over his words. “Wait, you said... years. He was twenty when he joined the station.”
“You heard right.”
Had Sinclair been just a child when he was captured? Dom swallowed, his ears ringing. He couldn’t think past the anger snarling in his chest.
“Those beads were implanted for a reason,” Nate continued. “He wasn’t supposed to remove them.”
“Or else what?”
Nate sighed, nodding toward where Sinclair had gone. “Or else this.”
Dom would’ve asked further, except Nate met his gaze straight on, his expression severe. “Whatever you hear at the medical center, you’ll have to believe it. It’s where he was sent after we extracted him.”
“Fuck.” Dom had wanted to go with Sinclair to the doctor, to just be there, but this... It was turning into something a lot darker. And he could understand why Sinclair had been refusing to seek treatment.
It didn’t make it right. Just heartbreaking.
“You have the address for that place?” Dom asked.
Nate pulled out his phone, his jaw set. “Yeah. I’ll look it up for you.”
“Thanks.”
Much later, when it was time to leave, Dom found Sinclair in the locker room. “We’ll take my truck,” he said. “It’s an hour there.”
Sinclair scowled. “I can get there on my own.”
“You look like you’re about to fall over.”
Sinclair blew out a breath, scrubbing his face. “I’m really fine.”
“Will you still be, after you get there?” Dom asked.
Surprise flitted through Sinclair’s face. Then, wariness. “Did Nate tell you something?”
Dom shrugged. This shouldn’t have been his business, either.
But he remembered Sinclair in the fire truck, snarling about being someone else’s property. He remembered Sinclair opening the donut bags with a secret smile, and his delight when he’d inhaled the treats. Dom remembered Sinclair’s uncertainty after they’d had sex. The way Sinclair all but fled, refusing to meet Dom’s eyes.
Sinclair was so self-conscious, Dom realized. And so... human. Still lost, even now.
Dom shouldn’t be seeing these things about him, but he couldn’t help it. “Want a hug?” he asked.
Sinclair frowned, looking askance at him. “What for?”
“Just asking. In case you wanted one.” Dom changed out of his station clothes, pulling on a clean set—no telling how long the trip to Highton would take.
When he looked up, he found Sinclair watching him. Despite his illness, interest still lingered in his expression.
“You’re also welcome to crash at my place,” Dom offered. “After we get back.”
Sinclair scowled. “Quit being nice.”
That made Dom smile. “Or else what?”
“Or else.”
Sinclair followed him reluctantly to the truck. His nostrils flared when he climbed in—all Dom smelled was his own scent. But Sinclair didn’t roll down the windows to get rid of it. He just breathed, in and out, like he was trying to calm down.
“You don’t want to go there?” Dom asked.
“Fuck, no.” Sinclair buckled his seat belt, closing his eyes. “I don’t ever want to go back.”
“Why not?”
Sinclair shrugged jerkily. He looked so uneasy that Dom reached over, lightly grasping his hand. Sinclair jumped, glancing down. He didn’t pull away, though. So Dom squeezed Sinclair’s hand lightly—a comforting gesture.
It felt strange, holding an alpha’s hand. Sinclair’s fingers were callused, thick. They’d seen some rough work at the station.
