Page 92

My heart slams against my ribs.

“Look at you. Scared little omega bitch.” She takes one step closer. “You shouldn’t go after another woman’s pack. Then you wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“I didn’t go after your pack,” I say quickly, my voice shaking despite my best effort to keep it steady. “It was just one meeting. I didn’t even like them.”

A confused look crosses her face, like the idea that someone wouldn’t automatically fall in love with Pissant one, two, and three is absurd to her.

I press on. “Seriously. I’m bonded now… to another pack.”

Shayna’s eyes scan my neck, landing on the two marks that show above the line of my dress. Her lip curls into a sneer that twists her whole face. She takes another step. Then another.

“You think I don’t know what you are?” Her voice is almost sing-song. “Some little slut who dresses like that. Tits always on display. Hips swinging. Trying to make every alpha and beta in the room want you. It’s omegas like you who ruin everything. You’re all greedy, attention-hungry little whores.”

My back hits the side of the SUV. I’m trapped between her and the car. My pulse is roaring in my ears. I can’t stop the memories flashing behind my eyes. The shove, the screech of tires, the impact. My hands tremble with such force that I drop my key fob.

The sound of it hitting the pavement startles her. Her hand reaches quickly into her jacket pocket. She pulls out a knife. The cold blade catches the fading afternoon light.

Terror spikes so deep that I can’t breathe. My knees feel weak. My mouth goes dry. I’m alone. Like I promised my alphas I wouldn’t be. And she’s smiling.

forty-three

Beck

When I pull into the garage, I'm planning a pool date. No bikini this time. Definitely the fuck lounge. Something’s been coming through the bond for the last half-hour that isn’t her usual brightness. Pre-heat, post-bonding sensitivity probably. Whatever it is, I aim to make her feel all better.

I set my helmet on the seat, then turn toward the door to the house. That’s when I notice it. My Mercedes SUV is gone. I sit there for a second, staring at the empty spot where it should be. All the other daily drivers are gone too. The only thing left in the garage is my bike and a couple of the security vehicles.

My stomach drops. There’s only one person who could have taken the SUV.

Cammie.

I bolt inside, hoping the universe will prove me wrong.

“Cammie?” I call out as I push through the door. “Sugar?”

No answer.

I move fast, checking the kitchen first. It’s her favorite work spot. Empty. The living room. Empty. I take the stairs two at a time, yelling her name the whole way.

“Cammie! Baby, where are you?”

Nest—empty. My room—empty. Piers’ office, Finn’s office, even the damn laundry room. All empty.

I’m full-on panicking now, chest tight, alpha clawing as I circle back downstairs and burst into the kitchen again. I missed it before, but now it sticks out like a sore thumb. She left a note on the counter, written in her loopy handwriting.

Having drinks with Lucy at Tinto’s. Be back soon.

No name, just signed with a little heart.

My blood turns to ice. “Fuck.”

I’m running back toward the garage as soon as I finish reading it, keys to one of the security SUVs already in my hand.

I slam the SUV into drive and peel out of the garage, tires squealing as I gun it down the driveway. My hands are white-knuckled on the wheel. I hit the button on the steering wheel and bark into the speakers. “Call Pack.”

The line connects almost instantly. In less than five seconds they are all on the line. Pack calls are only for emergencies. They never go ignored.

“Cammie’s gone. Left a note saying she’s having drinks with Lucy at Tinto’s.”