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I lean back and cross my arms, waiting for him to finish making his point. When he’s finished, he spins to face me, tossing the marker over his shoulder unceremoniously and holding the paper between two fingers.

“Here, does this make it easier?”

He’s drawn a stick figure female, laughably tiny, with the Omega symbol stamped on her chest like an emblem. Next to her is another stick figure, this one three times the Omega’s size, with fangs and a knife, labeled “YOU.” There’s a thought bubble rising from its head with big, block letters that reads, “BAD IDEA.”

When I don’t respond, he arches a brow, holding my stare with an expectant expression. “Take your time,” he says mildly. “Let me know when it clicks.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vae’s lips twitch. He presses his tongue into his cheek, eyes dancing with amusement.

I will literally bite him if he tries to revisit this moment in fifty years, which he will absolutely do.

Silas snorts. “That’s not you. You’re way less jacked than that.”

“Silas,” Gav says, without looking away.

“Right,” Silas coughs. “Sorry. Very educational. We should laminate it.”

That does it.

I snatch the drawing out of his hand and slam it on the table, pointing at the vampire stick figure. “You forgot the part where YOU blacked out because the Omega was gloating about shooting YOUR brother right in front of YOUR godsdamned face.”

I crumple the paper and shoot it over his head, into the trash.

“There,” I snap. “She’s not dead. You’re welcome.”

I know my smile’s unhinged, but I can’t find it in me to care.

I know I’m being an asshole. Gav has every right to be pissed. He gave us one order regarding the Omega, and I almost broke it less than two minutes in her presence.

“He wasn’t going to really kill her,” Vae comes to my defense, but it’s obvious even he thinks I came too close to ripping out her pretty little throat.

I did. That’s the issue. I came so close to bleeding her dry, and I don’t know what I would have done if Vae, Silas, and Calder hadn’t pulled me away.

Fates, I can’t even remember the last time I actually raised my hand to a female outside of battle.

It was close—too close. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t touch her. The fact is, I nearly crossed a line I’ve spent centuries standing on the right side of. And if I’m being honest with myself, my anger isn’t directed at Gav, or even the Omega.

Okay, that’s a lie.

It’s absolutely directed at the Omega.

But I’m mostly pissed at myself. I feel unmoored. Like I’m drifting. I haven’t felt like this since I was in the vampire-equivalent of my teens.

I fucking hate it.

I’m reacting to things I don’t normally react to. Making decisions I don’t normally make. It’s impulsive. Chaotic. The total opposite of my usual control.

My entire life, I’ve taken pride in being the kind of warrior who protects others. My reputation’s been built on my stalwart discipline. I’m not the kind of male who attacks Omegas who can’t even fight back.

Except, I can’t make that claim anymore, can I?

An hour ago, I was exactly that kind of male.

The memory flashes through my mind. Again.

Those big, blue eyes looking up at me. Fear giving way to weary acceptance. Shame eats at my insides. I can’t help feeling like there’s a stain on my soul now. One I put there myself.

And yet, underneath that…