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“We’re sorry.” Atlas rumbles. “Don’t do this to us.”
I let the words wash over me, but they’re just noise.
Vibrations in the air.
Atlas doesn’t get it.
They don’t get it.
“You’re not sorry.” Not when the apology comes on the same breath as the accusation that I’m doing something wrong.
I’m doing this to them?
All I’m doing is looking out for myself.
Because they sure as hell won’t.
“You want to see me? Back of the line.” I stride into the building.
Hope my scent sticks in their noses forever.
FIVE
ORION
I pace a path through the carpet, sweaty, exhausted, and fucking jittering with the need to see Lilah.
I haven’t slept.
Haven’t eaten.
All I’ve had are energy drinks. Half-crushed cans scatter the sofas and monitor-choked tables in the living room of our Wyvern Compound condo unit while fizz burns my stomach, filling me with bile.
My alphas are who-the-fuck-knows-where.
I wish we could trade roles.
Make me and Lilah the alphas.
Maybe Wyvern Pack would finally run right.
Run at all.
I’ve been watching Lilah on the security feeds for days.
Only watching, because I’m not allowed to help.
Fucking degenerate Redfang minions keep hitting the clinic. They failed to snag me when I insisted on waiting for Lilah in the lobby.
Now they’re making passes at my future mate.
I need to see her.
Need to hold her.
Apologize.
Fuck.
