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Before they can say anything else, I jog off down the trail, away from temptation and my ruin and back to my solitude and isolation.

five

Scarlet

Scarlet

I approach the front door and knock sharply before I can let my anxiety and logic convince me to hightail it back home. It opens at once, and I find myself face to face with Barren. He beams at me. His smile is like a ray of sunshine splitting the dark clouds of my life apart.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

He snags my wrist as if he thinks I’m going to run. The thought crossed my mind a moment before his fingers landed on me, but the moment I register his scent, I’m not going anywhere.

“Bar, she can walk on her own.”

I look up to find the tall man with chestnut hair gliding towards us. Grey eyes cut through me. He’s polished and screams money and power. Confidence doesn’t ooze out of him, it’s part of his makeup. He’s leaner than Jet or Gold, but taller than both. A pair of thin silver-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, and damn, if the whole appearance doesn’t make me feel weak at the knees.

“Taylor,” I acknowledge after an embarrassing delay.

“Yes, Miss Waring. Welcome to our home.”

I glance down at my wrist that’s still being held by his omega and try to pull my arm free. Barren tightens his hand around my wrist and tugs me closer to him. I stumble and then turn to focus on him. The anxiety rolling off him is puzzling. My resolve melts, and I reach up and put my fingers lightly on the wrist circling mine.

“I’m not leaving. I’m going to walk beside you and say hello to your pack.”

He stares at me, those dark liquid eyes peering into my face for a long moment before he releases me. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.

I’m not sure what to do in this moment. Glancing at Taylor leaves me just as clueless. If anything, he’s finding this all very amusing. I am not amused.

Barren eases his arm around me until I’m tucked into his side, then he steers us through the house. I look at all the changes throughout the manor, the modern touches and sleek finishes mixed with the original manor architecture, with curiosity.

Barren stays silent, watching me with restrained tension. He brings us to a set of double doors I recognise and pushes one open.

I instantly find Gold. My heart thumps hard against my chest. There’s a sick feeling of the past and present colliding, an excitement followed by a crashing apprehension and grief. I wonder if I’ll feel it every time I look at him. I force my gaze to shift until I see Jet staring at me with intense laughing eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

And last, I find the giant leaning against the wall in the shadows, as if they could ever hide him. Acton. I remember the lingering touch on my wrist and feel the spot burn again.

The door clicks behind me, and I twist to find Taylor standing against it. “What’s your poison, Miss Waring?”

“Call me Scarlet, please, and I’ll have a glass of wine?”

He nods and moves to the bar. I watch him and can’t help but be reminded of a jungle cat.

Barren shifts beside me, and I glance up at him before looking away and swallowing hard. It’s getting harder to remember why I can’t do this.

“Tell me about your pack.”

Gold asks the question, and it freezes me in place. I look up and meet his eyes. Barren eases back from me, and I can think a little, but I know the pointed reminder is as much for him as it is for me.

“My pack is wonderful. I’m very lucky.” Yup, how can it get any better than me, myself, and I? I don’t want these alphas or Barren to realise that I am an unwanted alpha, that my pack dumped me. I don’t want sympathy or, worse yet, pity.

Gold seems to know something, but I don’t know what because his eyes have narrowed, and he’s got that self-satisfied smirk on his face. The one that tells me he’s up to something that’s going to make me wish I could skin him alive. I remember that expression well.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls until he finds a picture. “You do all look happy.” He holds it out to Barren and I.

I glance at the photo and look away, feeling sick. “I am happy.” It comes out with no conviction. The photo he shows me is seven years old, when we actually were happy. We were friends. But that was a long time ago.

“Gold,” Jet snarls.

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