Chapter 6 – WRAITH
Chapter
Six
WRAITH
My fingers trace the edges of my mask. The fabric sits secure against the ruin of my lower face, but I check again.
And again.
No gaps.
The omega didn't see.
She couldn't have—her reaction proves it.
No screaming.
No running.
Her scent cuts through the memory, clouding my thoughts. I inhale as deep as I can, drinking in the lingering ghost of her. Letting wild honeysuckle fill my entire ribcage, my head, my soul if I have any of it left.
Even faint and muted, she calls to me.
An omega.
Here.
In my domain.
My...
No.
I slam my fist into the concrete. The impact vibrates up my arm. Pain blooms across my knuckles, sharp and grounding.
Good.
Physical pain is better than this.
Scent match.
The words echo in my mind like a taunt. A cruel joke. I know what this is. Every alpha talks about it. Brags about it. That instant recognition when you meet your fated match. The way your entire body comes alive.
Every cell screaming mine.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Not for me.
Monsters don't get scent matches.
But my body doesn't care what monsters deserve. Every nerve ending is on fire. Drawn to her lingering presence like a moth to flame. I want to follow it, to track her down, to...
To what?
Terrify her again?
I press my forehead against the cold concrete, breathing slow and deliberate until the urge to hunt her down fades to something manageable. My bloodied knuckles sting where they rest against the wall.
Hannah.
That's what her ID badge said.
But the name feels wrong. Doesn't fit her.
Somehow I know, deep in whatever instinct drives me, it isn't her name at all.
She's hiding something.
Hiding from something.
Or someone.
My shoulders tense. The urge to lash out again builds in my chest, but I don't have a target.
Just the ghost of whoever drove her here, whoever made her act like she needs to hide in the tunnels beneath my arena.
If it's a him—and it's always a fucking him—I want to tear him apart with my bare hands.
But I don't know who he is.
Don't know anything about her.
Just her scent. Just those ocean eyes that held their own shadows when she looked at me.
The fresh memory replays in my mind. The way she stood her ground when my growl filled the narrow space between us. There was fear in her eyes, yes.
But not horror.
Would've been different if she'd seen my face.
My growls alone should have sent her running. The instinct to speak—to tell her I wasn't going to hurt her, to beg her to let me bask in her presence for just one more minute—was still there.
Even though the only sounds I'm capable of now are beast sounds.
Monster sounds.
But this brave omega heard my growl and just stood there. Watching me. And then the fierceness in her eyes softened, and then she was...
Less afraid?
Don't understand.
Nothing about me should make anyone less afraid.
Never mind a perfect creature like an omega.
I push off the wall and force myself to move. One foot in front of the other. I should leave. Should get as far away from her scent as possible before I do something I'll regret.
Like go back and find her.
But I don't head for the exit.
I find myself moving deeper into the tunnels instead, following the fading traces of honeysuckle.
I know that look in her eyes.
Prey that's learned to bite back.
Whatever she's running from has left its mark on her, just like my own scars.
I settle into the shadows at the junction of two corridors, back pressed against cold concrete, and wait.
If whoever she's hiding from comes hunting, I'll be here first.