Page 21 of Omega Hunted

The brutal scent of fear filled the room.

Fuck.

“Omega,” I whispered.

“S-Soren,” the omega hiccupped between sobs. “My name is S-Soren.”

“Fuck!” I cursed into the phone, and he stepped backward before I could say anything, shoulders hunching as if he was waiting for the shouting to turn into something worse.

I stepped forward, and Soren flinched. He was terrified, exhausted, and ready to run despite barely being able to stand upright, and beneath it all was something worse: resignation. He expected me to hurt him.

I knew what my words had done the second Soren had stepped into the doorway carrying that terrified scent, and underneath my anger and panic and grief there was a deep animal certainty that I’d fucked this up badly.

Fuck.

I hung up on Brec without another word.

“I didn’t mean any of that,” I lied. In my temper, I’d meant every word, but now he was in front of me; each of those words had been hateful and untrue.

“I don’t have a b-bonded mate.” Soren’s pale green eyes filled with more tears. “No one. I don’t belong to anyone, and nobody owns me.” He wasn’t shouting, and that made it worse. “It’s just us.”

I stopped. He was brandishing what was left of the heavy base of the lamp beside my bed. The way he was standing in the doorway, despite shaking badly, I could scent the despair on him as he confronted my bad temper with whatever scraps of bravery he still had left.

Pregnant. Alone. No alpha. Nobody coming.

“The father?”

Soren looked at me then, properly looked at me, and there was something dead behind his eyes that made my wolf go still.

“The alpha who was forced to hurt me is dead.”

Forced. Hurt.

My wolf lunged forward hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs, all fury and protectiveness and violent instinct, while one thought hammered through both of us with enough force to hurt: who the fuck hurt you?

“Shit, Soren, you’re pregnant and alone. That’s not normal.”

He staggered, his arms shaking from the weight of the lamp, as if I’d hit him, and I hated myself for it. What the fuck had I just said? What kind of alpha bullshit was that?

Normal.

As if there was a right way for an omega to survive being a father. Soren’s expression shut down right in front of me, every emotion disappearing behind something blank and practiced.

“I know,” he said quietly. “It’s okay, I’m leaving.” His voice stayed flat and exhausted. He turned, still holding the lamp, and the sight of him trying to walk away while still shaking with fear hit something vicious inside me. Who hurt you? My head hurt with the effort of holding my wolf back. Give me a fucking name.

I locked both thoughts down hard enough that pain shot through my skull. “You can’t leave.”

“I can.”

“I mean, the bridge is closed now, and it’s the middle of fucking winter, so you’re stuck here, and look, you need to eat.”

That was practical. Safe. Something I could do.

“No,” Soren said without turning. “What I need is to find somewhere safe for my daughter, away from alphas, away from… just away… and replace these dead man’s clothes.”

The words cut deep.

The comment about Raff’s sweatpants and T-shirts.