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“Marisol,” Jin’s softness scrapes my raw spots.
I find his stopped feet, but I can’t lift my gaze.
I don’t want to see.
His pity.
His disgust.
“Get out.” I finally snatch the towel to my front, covering my throat, trying to gather the shards of my shredded mask.
A tentative purr echoes. Reese takes a step. “Solly Baby. You—”
“Get. The fuck. Out.” Pheromones strain my seams, fighting to fuck me over one last time for funsies.
“You’re hurt,” Dutch’s voice rips. “Solly—”
“Leave!” I bark.
Dizzy, drained, desperate, it’s all I can do to stop my pheromones leaking.
My aura breaks the leash, and the truth of what I am forces them to move their feet.
Meadows Pack walks, leaving me curled on the floor.
Cracking ribs pincushion my heart.
I lash the towel around my disintegrating throat.
Now who am I supposed to be?
“Leave!”
Sol’s command manifests a mech pilot at my brain controls. When she jerks my nerves, I’m a meat marionette.
I flex dominance to fight her pull, but I may as well be shooting silk threads.
Like the girl has her hand up my ass, she waggles her willpower, and all I can do is walk.
Hijacked by an impossible whip, my ass turns in a circle.
I can’t scent my queen’s panic, but I know those spring-tight shoulders are suppressing out-of-control shakes.
I know because the same fucking shudders rattle my vertebrae like poker chips when my loafers start moving the wrong direction—away from her.
Helplessness twangs my spinal cord, twisting with an even more confusing feeling.
I want to obey.
More than that, I should.
It’s natural.
A field mouse fleeing a hawk.
Our pack has never run on pure dominance. If we did, I’d be taking orders from Dutch. But even Jin—with enough leadership juice to eviscerate all comers—can only eat his growl and do as he’s told.
Alphas aren’t the apex predators anymore.
