25. Emmeline
25
Emmeline
I find Uri exactly where they said he’d be.
Alone.
Sitting on the bench in the corner of their private gym with two weights either side of him.
Because, of course, they have a private gym.
Uri’s massive frame is curled inwards, his forearms braced against his knees as he breathes heavily. I know he notices the moment I enter because his entire body tenses.
The scent of his sweat lingers in the air, thick enough that I almost choke on it. My nipples peak, brushing against the fabric of my dress, and my scent glands pulse. I hate the way my body reacts to him.
He doesn’t acknowledge me, doesn’t turn to face me.
Coward.
I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to do. Is he expecting me to turn away because of his cowardice? Does he think I’ll cry or beg?
I have no idea.
“You left,” I call, my voice sharp as it echoes through the silent room. “You left me. Again, Uri. You ran. There was no thought about my needs or how that would make me feel.”
Nothing.
I don’t know if he can hear the racing of my heart.
But I can. It’s so loud, echoing through my skull, practically beating against my rib cage.
I take a step closer to him, pushing down the whine I’m so desperate to release. I won’t let the biological effect this alpha has on me be the thing that pushes him further away.
It’s clear, based on the way he’s sitting, that this is an alpha who doesn’t want to be pushed. He wants to be alone, to sit and sulk, all on his own.
Too fucking bad.
He doesn’t get to hide from me.
Not anymore.
If he doesn’t want me, if he wants nothing to do with me, then he needs to voice that instead of just running away. He needs to communicate and make it clear to me—to his pack, to our child—that he wants out.
That he wants nothing to do with this relationship.
“You left me when I needed you,” I press on, my voice low, steady. I’m pulling confidence from who knows where, and I’m going to be heard. “You walked away without a word, Uri. You made that choice for both of us.”
His head lifts slightly, just enough for me to see his face in the mirror opposite. His jaw is tight, clenched so hard I swear I hear his teeth must be made of steel. His eyes are wide, expressive, and full of… pain? Fear? Anger?
I wish I could tell.
But, still, he says nothing, and his secrets remain buried behind the internal wall he’s built.
I exhale sharply, fighting back the knot of frustration in my chest. There’s a pressure, urging me to just shut up. To obey what my alpha so clearly is asking from me.
But I won’t. I can’t .
I can’t spend the rest of my life never knowing. I can’t live in this eternal limbo where I’m scared to put a foot out of line.
It’s not fair to me, to him, or to our pack.
“Is this just what you do, then?” I demand, glaring at him. “Run away? Shut people out? Decide you’re some kind of monster instead of letting anyone love you?”
That gets a reaction.
His breath hitches, his fingers curling into fists on his knees. He blinks once, so slow, his eyes remaining closed for five seconds before he opens them.
He’s hurting.
Good.
Because I am, too.
I step into his space, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough that I dare him to keep ignoring me.
I want to touch him. Want to beg and plead and cry. I even want to scream and shout and rage.
But he won’t react to my tears. They’ll only convince him of the opinion he’s already decided is true.
And I don’t think anger is going to do him any good either.
“You’re not a monster, Uri.” I shake my head, wrapping my arms around each other, gripping my elbows to keep my fingers from twitching. “But you are acting selfishly. You’re acting like a coward.”
Uri flinches, and he drops his head, no longer willing to look up now that I’m standing in front of him.
“You need to talk to me, to tell me what’s going on, so that we can work through this,” I plead. My heart is racing, my scent perfuming the room, and yet, he’s still unmoved.
Uncaring.
Am I really acting this desperate?
I reach for him before I can stop myself, pressing a hand to his forearm. He stiffens beneath my touch, but he doesn’t pull away.
Not yet.
Not this time.
His head drops even further forward, a ragged breath leaving him, and my heart cracks wide open.
For him. For us. For everything.
I move closer, refusing to let him disappear into his own head again.
“Look at me,” I say softly.
He doesn’t.
So, I push harder.
“Please. Please, look at me, Alpha,” I whisper, my nails digging into his arm a little more. I’m so scared, so terrified, to be putting myself out like this.
His scent darkens, his breathing quickens. I wait with bated breath of my own, not sure if this is it—if this is the end.
But then, slowly, painfully, he lifts his head.
His eyes are bloodshot, his expression full of such raw pain, and, when he finally speaks, his voice is barely more than a whisper.
“You shouldn’t want me, Emmeline.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, shaking my head.
“But I do.”
He scoffs, pushing away from me. I mourn the loss of his touch, but I don’t have a second to adjust before he’s sharing.
“Did you know when I was only twelve, I presented as an alpha,” he says darkly. “I was already a big kid, but I hadn’t shown any other signs. My adoptive parents are betas, and my biological ones were, too. My mum is a children’s psychiatrist with a specialisation in kids who presented as something completely unexpected.
“My dad is an omega psychiatrist. They’re both gentle, kind, lovely people who did their best to support me. But they shouldn’t have wasted their time. I tried to get them to return me?—”
“Return you?” I gasp, shaking my head. “They’re your parents, Uri. There was nowhere to return you.”
He scoffs, and it’s such a bitter sound that I shiver where I stand. “They should’ve just killed me, then. You don’t understand what I’ve done. Who I’ve hurt.”
“It doesn’t matter. They’re your parents. They love you, no matter what.”
He shakes his head, looking up at me with such a forlorn expression. “Do you know how I repaid this unconditional love? I got into a fight with another alpha kid. He was teasing me, being a dick. I lost control.” His voice drops quieter as he adds “I reacted without thinking, and I hurt him.”
“What happened?”
I want to comfort him. I want to let my omega instincts run free and give him the love I’m biologically geared to provide.
The love I’m so pathetically desperate to give.
But I can’t. Not when he keeps pushing me away.
Not when he doesn’t want me.
“I put him in the hospital, Emmeline. I nearly killed him.” I gasp, and Uri’s face darkens. “Exactly. How could you want a monster like me? A killer? I was twelve , and I nearly killed someone because they called me some stupid names. I can barely even remember what he said, just what I did .”
I step back, the weight of his words crashing into me like a tidal wave. All his fears, all his pain… it makes sense now. I understand.
Twelve.
He was just a kid. A child who had only just learned what he was, and, already, the world had proven to him that his instincts, his very nature, were dangerous.
That he was dangerous.
This is why he thinks I should be scared of him.
He’s trying to protect me in his own twisted way. He truly believes he’s a monster, a killer , even.
But all I see is a boy who learned too young that fear and isolation were the only way to keep the people he loved safe.
I step forward again, refusing to let him shut me out. I won’t let him push me away. I can’t.
It’s strange, how just this small inkling of understanding has erased so much of the pain I’ve been enduring. It’s erased my doubts and fears of his feelings on our relationship. It’s put everything into clarity.
This was never about me . Uri never thought I wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t concerned that I was a bad omega or that I’d be a horrid mum.
He was terrified about himself .
I was never the issue.
“You were a child,” I say softly. “A scared kid who was pushed too far. You never meant to hurt him, Uri.”
Uri shakes his head violently, his jaw clenched so tight it looks painful. “It doesn’t matter. A real alpha— a good alpha —would have had control. Would have known better. I don’t get to blame it on being young or being pushed.” He shudders in his seat and looks up into my eyes. There’s a watery sheen over his brown eyes. “It’s just who I am, Emmeline. I’m a monster, an abuser, a killer . And I’m no fucking good for you.”
I reach for him again, my fingers grazing the scent gland on his wrist. He tenses beneath my touch but doesn’t pull away.
I don’t think he can.
He’s so scared, but now that I understand him this much more… I won’t stop. I won’t leave him, I won’t let him push me away.
Until he’s in a safe state of mind—a healthy, balanced one—it’s my job as his mate to support him. To help him.
Right now, he needs me just as much as I need him. It doesn’t have to be sexual or romantic.
But I won’t leave him.
“You were a child,” I repeat, firmer this time. “And instead of helping you through it, someone convinced you that moment defined you. That you would never be anything more than your worst mistakes.”
His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his eyes locked onto mine like he’s searching for something—an argument, a rejection, an insult… I have no idea, but I know for a fact he thinks it’ll be negative.
“Uri, tell me something,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “What happened after that?”
His brow furrows, and he looks down at my hold on his wrist quickly before meeting my eyes again. “What?”
“After the fight. What did you do?”
His nostrils flare, and, for a moment, I think he’s going to shut down again. But then, he speaks, and I wish I was there all those years ago to prevent him internalising these horrid thoughts.
“I begged my parents to send me away. I told them I wasn’t safe, that they weren’t safe around me. Nobody was. I tried to convince them that I didn’t deserve their love. That I didn’t deserve a home.”
My eyes fill with tears, but I stubbornly refuse to let them fall. This isn’t about me. Not right now.
I don’t get to cry for his pain, I don’t get to make what he’s gone through about me and my reactions. He deserves more than that.
“And what did they do? Did they push you away? Send you away? Did they ever stop loving you?” I gently trail my fingers up and down the back of his neck.
He exhales sharply, his hands flexing against his knees.
“No.” His voice drops to a whisper. “They refused.”
I nod, my heart aching for the boy he was, for the man who still believes he’s unworthy of the people who love him. I find a kinship in him, feel a bond with this man who has struggled more than I ever have.
“Because they knew you weren’t a monster. Just like I do.”
Uri scoffs, his laugh hollow. “You don’t get it, Emme. I have to be in control at all times. Because if I slip, if I lose it for even a second?—”
“You won’t do anything,” I interrupt.
His gaze snaps to mine, sharp with frustration. “You can’t know that. I’ve done it before. So many times.”
I step closer, my palm flattening over his firm, muscular chest. The rapid heartbeat beneath my touch.
“I do,” I say softly. “Because I trust you, Uri. Because you’re a good man who is living in the past. You need to trust yourself, but until you can—trust your pack, trust me. We won’t let you be the monster you fear you are.”
He stares at me, his brown eyes lightening under the dim overhead light. The acrid edge to his scent softens as he relaxes under my touch. My own rushes to fill the space between us, our scents settling together, blending perfectly in the air around us.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to push me away. Waiting for him to run.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he places his hand on mine where it rests against his heart.
“You left because you were scared. I understand that. But I need you to stop running, Uri. I need you to stay.”
His fingers twitch against mine, and he lets out a growl, his entire chest vibrating underneath my hand.
“You don’t understand,” he snaps, but there’s no real bite to his words. “You say I wouldn’t do it again, but I did , little dove.”
Little dove?
Fuck, I love that.
But it’s clearly not the time.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my heart racing for an entirely different reason to his.
“I did it to her—to our last omega.”
He drops his hand, and I watch him tense up as if he thinks I’m going to pull away. As if this moment right now is going to be the one that drives me away.
Foolish man that he is.
“Lacey?” I can’t keep the venom out of my tone. The hatred I feel for her is stronger than any other emotion I’ve ever felt. I can’t stand her.
Not after everything I’ve heard.
My fear right now is that, after what she’s done to the others, the way she played with their minds and tried to ruin them… that she’s only made this trauma worse for Uri.
It’s horrible to think, but, honestly, if she’s done anything to hurt Uri more than he already was… well, I’ll be quite happy to hear of her death.
Especially since it’ll make Sterling happy, too.
His eyes flutter closed, and all I can smell is the strong, acidic tang of pain in his scent.
“They told you about her?” he asks quietly.
“Not about what she did to you,” I reassure him softly. “Just about their own interactions with her. Their own feelings. How she… played with them.”
He trembles under my touch, and I’m so proud of his strength at not running.
So fucking grateful he’s talking to me.
That he’s willing to be here, willing to be present for this conversation.
“You must think us weak,” he admits.
“No, I think she was toxic, manipulative, and a stone cold bitch,” I say, shaking my head when he freezes under my touch. “You’re good men, Uri, all of you. Men who clearly love hard, who try to help those who need it. Men who… who deserved better.”
He nods his head, but I don’t know how much of what I’m saying is truly being heard. I don’t trust he’s actually believing anything I say. It’s clear that the trauma goes too deep.
But that’s okay. I keep one hand over his heart and go back to playing with the hair at the nape of his head once more.
“I started off as her favourite,” he says quietly. “She loved me and made sure I knew it. We spent a lot of time together, especially in the early days. I trusted her, and I wanted to be honest, to share my past. But the moment I did… she changed.
“I know it was my fault. Her newfound fear of me. I know how upsetting it must’ve been to hear, and it’s obvious that I had destroyed her image of me. But I never could’ve imagined how badly I’d fuck her up.”
I shake my head. “You know that’s not true, right? Now, at least?”
“Hindsight’s a bitch, but the question is: how much was actually false?”
I wish I could shake him to get rid of these thoughts. To make him understand.
But that would be very hypocritical, wouldn’t it?
“She was terrified when I’d enter a room too loudly or my scent was too strong. If I wasn’t overly calm and nice, it would cause her so much anxiety. She’d flinch when I moved too fast or whimper when my voice was too loud. Every single day in her home, I tortured her with my presence.”
He grunts, opening his eyes to look at me. “Do you see?”
“Do I see what?” I ask, confused.
“I was an alpha using my strength and size to terrify my omega. She was fragile, scared, delicate. And I… I was a monster, Emme. I was a bully, a beast, something that just couldn’t let go.”
I wipe my tears, not wanting him to see. He’s staring past me at the wall, so unfocused on what I’m sharing, so unfocused on anything but his pain and the memories.
“I tried to avoid her, to not make things worse for the others. We loved her, and I didn’t want to be the one to ruin things for them. They weren’t bad like me, they didn’t deserve to be cut off because of my mistakes.”
My breath catches in my throat, my chest tightening as his scent sours completely.
This is why he left.
This is what made him walk away from me and our child.
I wipe my tears, shaking my head. “Uri?—”
“I did my best to protect them all, but I realised that the only way to do it was to stay away. I avoided my pack, I pulled away, I did my best to stay calm. But everything agitated me.
“Working out no longer worked to keep the instincts at bay. Refusing to sleep, to try and tire myself out didn’t work. Neither did starvation. Nothing can kill the beast inside, Emme. Is this really the life you want?”
My stomach clenches, my heart aching for my alpha, for the one who left me. For the one who is clearly hurting so much more than I ever knew—probably more than his pack ever knew.
I think back to the bruises I had after my heat and how they might’ve been the thing that broke him.
How there’s now a baby in the mix—a tiny, delicate, frail being that’s connected to him .
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“I won’t let her destroy you,” I say. My voice doesn’t shake, doesn’t waver. “I won’t let her destroy us .”
“Don’t you hear me?” he says in shock. His brown eyes meet mine, horror painted on his face.
I smile softly. “I hear you. But whilst we’ve heard the same story—I know the truth you’re too scared to accept. I’ve listened to you explain how an omega exploited your greatest fear for her own gain.
“How she managed to drive a wedge between you and your pack. Pushed you away to meet her own needs. Every single action she made was designed to hurt you, to accomplish this very goal.”
“What do you mean?”
I take a step back and shrug. “Sterling told me about… well, I don’t really understand. But the government case, how she drew people to you…”
I trail off when his eyes narrow. “It’s clear she was involved with them from the beginning. If she isolated you and removed you from your pack, it weakens them. She was working so hard to twist you all up, to crush you… to hurt you.”
“She succeeded,” he says.
“Did she? Because, from what I see, the four of you worked through some of the damage she caused. You’re functioning a bit better as a unit and probably even individually. The pain is still there. The anger, the abuse… but you’re not ruined.”
Uri exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, his fingers shaking slightly.
“Functioning,” he mutters. “That’s a generous way to put it.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” I challenge gently. “You didn’t stay gone. You came back.”
“Not because I wanted to. My dad said… my parents forced me.” He laughs humourlessly. “They won’t see the truth, either.”
“Because the truth you see is a twisted lie, Uri,” I say gently. “You aren’t a monster. You’ve never done something horrible on purpose or with malice. You’re a good man.”
“And, clearly, you’re a fool,” he says, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re… please don’t do this to me, little dove. Don’t try and play with my feelings.” He growls low, snapping his head up to look at me. “You can’t give me hope to just snatch it away.”
“You’re wrong about my intentions. I don’t want to push you away.”
“Really?” he scoffs, shaking his head, and, for the first time, the anger and frustration is directed towards me. “You said you’d take the baby. You said you wanted nothing from me.”
“Because I didn’t understand!” I protest, shaking my head as my own tears spring free. I need him to know. I need to make this clear. “Because you pushed me away, and I thought… I thought that was what you wanted. I was tying to protect myself and trying to give you what you needed. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
I touch his arm, unable to control my sobs. “I just wanted to make things right for you, Uri. I didn’t want to burden you or ruin you. I didn’t think… I didn’t think I was worth your love.”
“And then, what, you realised I was already ruined, so why not dig the knife in further?”
“You left because you were scared, Uri. You thought you’d hurt me, that you’d be a danger to our baby.” I take a steadying breath. “But you didn’t. You’d never be able to hurt either of us.”
He flinches. “I could.”
I shake my head. “Sure, you have the physical ability, but morally? Mentally? You wouldn’t. You could never.”
His lips part, but I don’t give him the chance to argue. I don’t want to let him.
“You keep telling yourself that you’re dangerous, that you’re a monster, but, Uri… if you were truly dangerous, if you were the beast you think you are, you wouldn’t be sitting here hating yourself for something that hasn’t even happened.”
His entire body stills.
“Do you know how many people never stop to question themselves?” I press on. “How many people never care enough to wonder if they might be the villain? That’s the difference between you and the monsters of this world, Uri. You care. You always have.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, his voice hoarse. His jaw clenches, his breathing unsteady.
“You don’t have to know,” I whisper, reaching out with a shaky hand to touch him. “You just have to try.”
His gaze locks onto mine, something raw and desperate flickering behind his eyes. “And if I fail?”
“You won’t.”
“But if I do?—”
His scent darkens, but my scent glands pulse, and the room is filled with the sweet notes of my lavender and chamomile.
“Then we deal with it. Together. As a family.”
I curl my fingers tighter around his. “Come home, Uri. Stop running.”
His entire body tenses, and, for a moment, I think I’ve pushed too hard. But then, he exhales, long and slow, and nods.
“Okay.”
It’s barely a whisper, but it’s everything.
I squeeze his hand, a breath of relief flooding my chest. “Okay.”
For the first time in weeks, Uri isn’t running.
And neither am I.