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“It was the logical solution,” I point out.

Paige wraps her ankles more securely around mine. “It was brave.”

“It was love.”

The words are out before I can hold them back.

Becoming feral. The rut. The locking. Now the bath and being touched with care.

I am cracked open.

Raw and exposed.

I am glad that I can’t see her face. I couldn’t meet her eyes. It is hard for me to do that anyway; it takes an emotional toll.

It exhausts me.

Now, I don’t need to, and it helps me to talk.

Paige raises her hand to rest it on mine, where it lies on the side of the tub, clutching hard onto the rim. “Do you mean that, Alpha?”

“What about me made you reckon I say what I don’t mean, Omega?”

When Angel dumps water over my head, every muscle in my body locks. The water rushes over my scalp, ears, and neck.

I splutter, spitting water out of my mouth. My eyes sting.

I turn my head to glare at Angel.

“Warn me,” I growl.

“Like you warned me about your damn plan…?” Angel’s voice is tight. “You scared the hell out of me. I could have lost both of you. Jesus, I could have...”

He collapses back on his heels. His eyes are bright with tears.

What have I done?

Angel shouldn’t look like this. He smiles. He finds the good in things no one else does.

I had to save my Omega. But I never meant to harm my Alpha.

I would have done anything to claim this Alpha, who is different to me. I felt like he needed me as much as I once needed Rhett to take me into the Cole pack.

Angel helped me and kept showing up to check on me when I was in the hospital. He brightened every day that I was trapped inside that dreary place, sensing how much I was frightened to be held there.

“We’re here,” I point out. “We’re okay.”

“You’re bruised,” Angel whispers. “You’re⁠—”

“I love these bruises.” I raise my wrist, defiantly. “They show that I served and saved my pack. What do you say, Omega?”

“I say that I’m going to enjoy kissing your battle scars better, Alpha.” Paige grabs my arm, dragging my wrist to her lips to kiss it. “Yuck, I forgot the arnica.”

I snort with amusement.

“Bruises, not battle scars,” Angel insists. “There is a medical distinction.”

I jut out my chin. “I am still proud of them.”