Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother
Chapter 230: _ Therapist Luis

Chapter 230: _ Therapist Luis

I didn’t know what to do with myself after María José smiled at me like I was her entire morning.

I mean, what does a man do when the love of his life watches him sleep and smiles like that? Do I just... go and make cereal? Take a walk? Shave my chest?

The answer was none of the above, because my heart was still doing backflips and my brain had not quite rebooted yet.

So I did what any sane man in my position would do.

I got up. Brushed my teeth while cursing Álvaro under my breath. And decided to go cause a ruckus somewhere else.

Specifically, at Luis’s place.

Yes, more than anything—I needed to talk. No, rant. Preferably to someone who wouldn’t look at me like I’d lost it. Which left me with exactly one option. Him.

Good ol’ Luis, my cousin. The silent, immobile enigma. The man had the patience of a saint and the judgmental capacity of a rock—which made him the perfect person to dump my swirling chaos onto.

Because if there was one thing that calmed my nerves, it was ranting in front of my cousin. He couldn’t respond, poor guy, but man, could he listen. Best therapist I’d ever had. Free too. The only downside was the occasional creepy stare.

I threw on a jacket, ran a hand through my mess of curls, and made my way across the estate to Luis’s quieter part of the estate.

It was raining again. Of course, it was. Because nothing says "brooding pack politics and unsolved murder" like constant dramatic drizzle. The sky had the color of wet cement, and my breath fogged in the air, which reminded me I’d forgotten to eat. Again.

I trudged down the narrow gravel path that led to the modest little house tucked at the side of the estate. Luis’s place was surrounded by wilting rose bushes and a wooden fence that leaned just a little too far left. It always smelled like peppermint and antiseptic, probably Rosario’s doing.

When I pushed open the creaky wooden gate to the smaller house, I expected the usual: Luis where he always was, Rosario in some state of chaotic energy, blasting music or ranting to a telenovela character on screen like they owed her money.

Today, the house was quiet.

Creepy quiet.

I stepped in and immediately squinted.

"Rosario?" I called out, sniffing the air.

No burnt toast. No bleach. No fresh mint. Just a weird, uneasy stillness that made the hairs on my neck stand.

She popped out of the hallway like a poorly summoned ghost. "Oh, Beta Axel."

Her voice was soft.

I frowned. "You okay? You look like someone told you salsa is canceled forever."

She blinked at me, all big brown eyes and guilt, and then offered a slow nod. "I’m fine."

"You’re not fine," I muttered, stepping past her. "You’re never this quiet. It’s suspicious. Is Luis okay?"

"He’s fine. Sleeping." Her tone was too careful.

I paused and then I turned. "Rosario. What’s wrong?"

She chewed her lip, then dropped onto the couch like she’d just aged twenty years. "One of the recent deaths really touched me."

My spine straightened. "The boys?"

"That too. Díos mío, it was so horrible. They were young. But..." She looked away. "It was the Packhouse guard. Ernesto."

My eyes narrowed. "Ernesto?"

"He came here the day before he went missing," she added, not looking at me.

I blinked. "He came inside here?"

She nodded solemnly.

"Rosario, do you remember what he said? Anything at all?"

I hadn’t expected to find that piece of information when I decided to come here. However, seems we find clues in the least anticipated places.

Her body stiffened. That was never a good sign.

"You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable," I offered quickly. "I’m not trying to interrogate you. I just..."

She whipped her head toward me, eyes wide. "Are you saying I’m a suspect now?!"

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

"No. I didn’t say that," I grumbled. "Look, it wasn’t even a werewolf that killed him. It was a witch."

Her eyes practically fell out of her skull. "So it’s true?! There’s a witch in the pack?! Madre de Dios, I told everyone something was in the air! My knees have been aching for two weeks!"

Argh! She was back to being Rosario again! I liked the quiet and moody one I met when I came in better.

"Rosario..."

"My instincts never fail me, Beta Axel. That’s why I only drink goat’s milk and never trust men with skinny eyebrows."

"...What."

She waved me off. "Never mind. The point is—this witch is among us. We’re cursed. I told you!"

"Rosario," I said, more sternly this time, stepping closer, "if you remember anything Ernesto said that day, tell me. Every little detail helps us catch the bastard."

And then... she got weird.

Like, extra weird. Fidgeting. Eye-darting. Suddenly obsessed with straightening the hem of her cardigan.

I tilted my head. "Rosario..."

She swallowed.

My tone dropped. "Talk to me."

She let out a dramatic breath, looked around like the walls might snitch on her, and then whispered, "We were banging."

I stared at her.

"Come again?"

Her face turned pink. "The last time Ernesto was here, we were... intimate."

My mouth fell open like a cheap window in a thunderstorm. "In here? In this house? With Luis in the room?!"

She nodded miserably. "Yes."

What the actual fuck?!

My hands ran over my face. "Rosario! Are you out of your mind?"

"It was spontaneous!" she shrieked defensively. "He looked so good in his uniform and smelled like fresh cinnamon!"

"LUIS WAS IN THE ROOM!"

She threw her hands up. "He doesn’t move! I thought..."

"HE’S NOT BLIND, ROSARIO!"

She winced. "Okay, okay! I admit, it was wrong. I’m sorry."

"You were supposed to be working. You’re a caregiver, not a side character in some trashy film!"

She gasped. "How dare you!"

"Oh, I dare." I pointed a stern finger at her. "That man is my cousin, and you—you... violated that trust."

She wrung her hands. "Ernesto said it was his last shift. He was tense. We were both lonely. One thing led to another..."

"Rosario, for the love of all things holy, spare me the softcore soundtrack." I massaged my temples. "Was that the last time you saw him?"

She nodded. "I swear. He left right after."

I paced the room, my boots thudding against the hardwood. My thoughts were a mess—flashes of María José’s bruised shoulder, the rain, Álvaro’s sneer, Luis staring into space while Rosario defiled the sanctity of caregiving in his presence.

I groaned. Luis let out a tiny grunt from his bed. I turned toward him.

"Yeah, bro. Same."

Rosario stood, twisting her fingers. "Am I fired?"

"Not yet," I snapped. "But one more sexcapade in front of Luis, and I’ll tie you to a tree myself."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "But don’t act like you don’t sneak off with your secret Omega girlfriend."

Really? Did someone see María José and me despite how discreet we tried to be. Not that I gave a damn anyway.

Let them spread the word: Axel and María José are a thing. If Rosa asked, I’d deny it for the sake of my and María’s mission.

I turned sharply to Rosa. "Watch it."

Her mouth shut instantly. Because that was the line.

I deserved respect and Omega or not, my Mate deserved even better. And Rosario knew that.

I adjusted my hoodie and gave her one last glance. "Next time you bang a murder victim in your house, maybe don’t wait until they’re dead to mention it."

She nodded quickly. "Sí, Beta."

"Leave," I said flatly, turning to Rosario. "I want a word with Luis."

She blinked at me like I’d just asked her to donate a kidney. "Why do you always do that?"

I frowned. "Do what?"

"You act like he’s your personal therapist-slash-confessional box. He can’t even do a thing! He just sits there!" She gestured dramatically at Luis, who—as always—was quietly existing in the background like he was the human version of a suspenseful violin string.

"He doesn’t have to do a thing. He listens. Something you clearly never learned." I snapped.

Her mouth dropped open. "That was rude."

"Get out, Rosario."

"I’m just saying! It’s weird, you know? You act like he’s the Pope, and I’m some kind of..."

"Rosario."

She flinched at the sharpness in my tone. I didn’t yell. I didn’t need to. One look, and she knew I was done entertaining her excuses.

"I said out."

With a dramatic sigh loud enough to shake windows in other dimensions, she stomped to the door like a teenager told to put her phone away. But just as she reached for the knob, she paused, glanced back, and gave me that look.

That ’I’m about to say something that’s none of my business but I’m going to say it anyway’ look.

"By the way," she said sweetly, "did you finally regain your memories from those two days we slept together in the same bed... and urm—naked?"