Chapter 12
twelve
The most annoying thing about being an omega isn’t the constant, all-consuming instincts.
It’s how often they’re correct.
I should be overjoyed. I’ve spent the better part of the day in my new home, building a real nest. My first attempt wasn’t even embarrassing, as far as I could tell. I was actually up there thinking it might be good… before an odd mix of scents drew me downstairs.
At first, my mind ignores the sick scrape in my gut. It wants to snap the pieces of the image in front of me into a picture that makes sense.
Atlas went to the abandoned building and discovered a woman there. Which should be a triumph. If my alpha not only fulfilled Cillian’s final assignment, but actually found the girl my cousin has been searching for…
Well, that would be a good thing, right?
Our debt would be repaid. My cousin and his pack could finally have the peace their mate deserves. Two abused sisters would be reunited. I’d use the goodwill we created with the Blackwood Pack to tell Cillian my real designation. Maybe… we could all finally lay our pasts to rest and move forward.
Bonds, new jobs, a better life. All of it can really be ours, now.
So why do those things suddenly feel like ashes, slipping through my fingers?
It’s the look on my alpha’s face, I think. Atlas and I have been together for ten years, but I’ve only seen this rare expression on a handful of occasions.
The first time was the day I finally told him the truth about my designation… and why no one else could ever know.
It happened again a few years later, when he came home from volunteering with reformed convicts and admitted he’d found an alpha he wanted to bring into our pack. At the time, he was worried I wouldn’t approve because Ryker was so damaged.
I saw this face again when we accidentally harmed Cillian’s pack in that fire. And once more, after all of my family secrets came out and it became clear we’d have to start our lives from scratch.
Those memories play across the back of my mind, each one ratcheting my anxiety higher. Why does Atlas look like this now? And why does it somehow seem worse than all those other instances?
Ryker shoves past me, hurtling himself into the house like a man possessed. Practically running to escape the new omega’s scent.
Meanwhile, Atlas stays entirely still. Staring at me.
“Gideon,” he says, slow and level. Too careful. “I need you to breathe for me, okay? Steady.”
His bark sinks right between my lungs. They reflexively expand, flooding my body with air that isn’t fresh. Because it smells so much like them.
I can’t read any of the aromas, and that scares me.
Normally, understanding the various strands of alpha musk around me is my secret weapon.
I spent most of my childhood and adolescence analyzing every swell and dip, trying to evade detection.
Not being able to get a beat on my packmates leaves me unmoored.
Why is Finn so… happy? And… mad?
No. Possessive.
Holy shit. I’ve never scented Finn like this before. I didn’t know he could even feel possessive.
Atlas does, too. That’s nothing new, for me, but…
Is it for me?
I step back automatically, recoiling from the thought. My alpha winces. “Gideon, it’s okay. It’s me, love.”
This is insane. I know it’s just him. My man, my partner.
So why is my Omega practically screeching?
Atlas knows better than to pursue an omega about to flee. Instead of crowding me, he clenches his jaw and forces himself backward. His brows crouch low as he visibly exhales.
I try to copy him, fighting to form words around the tightness in my chest. Wishing we had internal bonds so I could ask without speaking.
“What happened?” I finally manage. “Is it Violet? Is she… okay?”
I can’t bring myself to elaborate. If we found Cillian’s sister-in-law and returned her in anything less than pristine condition, I’m not sure any of us would have a life worth living much longer.
Atlas nods once. “It is Violet, yes.”
I’m hyperaware that he doesn’t answer the other questions.
My eyes leap from his solemn features to the open backseat of the Audi, trying to see for myself.
Sure enough, there’s a woman back there.
Blonde, with more hair than I’ve ever seen in one place, and a thin lavender slip barely covering her gaunt limbs.
It takes me a moment to process her size… and the scent wafting off her. If this is really Violet, then Violet isn’t a beta, the way Briar thought. She’s an—
Oh God.
I start to lurch toward her automatically, gasping. “This poor omega! Why is Finn just sitting there, holding her? Why is he shirtless? What the hell are we all doing standing around? She’s unconscious and filthy and starved. She needs help!”
“Gideon.”
Atlas’s bark halts me halfway down the front path. He looms ten paces away, boring pain-filled, endless irises into mine.
And I know.
I just… know.
What did you do?
I can’t say the words, but Atlas hears them, anyway. The lines around his eyes pull tighter as his jaw grinds. He holds out his right hand, extending it slowly.
Showing me the fresh claim mark branded into his wrist.