Page 80 of Break Out the Girl

Fuck my life.

This is the one thing I can do to help, and I’m fucking failing.

Wump-ppp.

Wump-ppp.

The threads that lead from my chest vibrate in panic.

A rush of emotion floods into me from London and Tally.

I can feel the difference between their bonds. Tally’s is a fierce, bone-deep protectiveness. Even though he’s running on fumes, his soul is a shield clamped firmly in front of me.

Then there is London.

His thread is a live wire, vibrating with so much life. He responds to my dread with a glowing, knowing assurance. His belief in me is unyielding and beautiful. I can almost see myself through his eyes.

A goddess who can achieve the impossible.

If only that were true.

Feeling them in my heart, a profound, overwhelming realization settles deep into my bones.

I love them.

Both.

I love Tally for the quiet weight of his strength and the way he carries the world on his raw knuckles just to keep me, and the people we love, safe.

I love London for his chaotic grace, his hidden depths, and the fact that his beast will go to war for me without a single hesitation.

They are my men.

My pack.

And I will tear my own soul apart before I let any more harm come to them. I won’t fail them like I did François.

François.

Fuck!

I gasp, my hand snapping to my sternum as a sudden, blistering heat sears inside my ribcage.

“Rory?” Basil snaps, his head whipping toward me. “Did you do it?”

“No,” I breathe, closing my eyes for a moment. “It’s not that.”

The golden wire connecting me to François is fizzing. It’s a hundred times stronger than it’s ever been before.

He’s close.

And not harmed.

I sag back, the feeling of relief making me realize something.

I think I also love François.

It doesn’t seem possible, but it might just be true.