Page 95 of The Omega

It hit me then that he reminded me of my Alpha Journey. Rough edges, but soft underneath.

Journey—and the rest of my pack—didn’t like outsiders for a reason. They were a threat to their entire way of life.

And I knew blood like that ran deep.

“Does everyone else in the pack feel this way?” I asked, panic lacing my voice as I looked around and saw things with new eyes.

The fear was there. I could sense it underlying. But they put on brave faces. They were survivors.

“There’s more than a few here that’ll have to leave if word gets out this place exists.” Jeannette nodded knowingly as she leaned back against the table. “Don’t worry, though. Atlas will find a way to force Bailey Pack to move on from these parts.”

Don’t worry…

Why the hell did everyone keep telling me that?

“And we don’t blame you.” Jeannette patted my shoulder. “You’re not the first of us to fall for the wrong sort of shifter. We just ask that you protect our Alpha’s heart. He deserves to be happy and we’re all rooting for him to seal the deal.”

I touched my unmarked neck unconsciously.

She noticed. “Like I said, don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll make it official once he figures out what to do with those Bailey shifters.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” I whispered, watching as another dam pinched Atlas’s cheek and sent him my way with a piece of pie.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Jeannette stood, groaning as she did, and Atlas rushed to give her a hand up.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked once we were alone and the pie plate was settled on my lap.

“The best.” I pushed a piece of sugar-and-cinnamon-coated apple around with the fork, not able to stomach the idea of lifting it to my mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Atlas growled. “Did something happen?”

Is this a… tragedy? My wolf whined.

I set down the uneaten pie as I looked at my mate because, despite what they all said, it was definitely time to worry. “Excuse me for a minute. I need to make a phone call.”

34

Dorian

Something is wrong.

I knew before I’d even gotten to her nest that Opal wouldn’t be there. I planned to wait anyway, all night if I had to, but I didn’t think Atlas would be that much of an asshole to keep her away from me.

As the sun set, I paced the perimeter of the yard surrounding the shed, rehearsing the words I wanted to say to hopefully solve this situation. I had ideas. Plans.

But I needed to be with my mate first.

Her scent still lingered in the trees. On the ground. Coming from the nest. Despite the wild pacing of my anxious wolf and knowing that being in her nest would soothe him, I didn’t enter Opal’s space without her permission.

I started a fire when the moon rose high in the sky, still waiting for any sign of them. Hours passed. When I couldn’t take it anymore and resolved to storm into Volk territory—consequences be damned—I heard the crunch of frozen ground underfoot.

He’s here. Opal isn’t.

My wolf bared his fangs as Atlas stepped into the ring of light from the fire. His eyes were red-rimmed and his breath smelled of rot-gut whiskey.

I didn’t even have a shred of humor in me to comment on how the mighty looked so fallen.

“Where is she?” I jumped to my feet, ready to tear him apart to get to her.