Chapter 22 #3
I can't say it. Can't name the way his expression cracked open in the library. The hunger underneath.
"I feel like I'm going crazy." The words come out thin. Reedy. "Like everyone knows something I don't, and no one will just tell me. And I'm so tired of—of walking into a room and not knowing if someone's going to be kind or cruel or—"
I press my hands against my face. Breathe.
"I just want someone to say what's actually happening. Out loud. So I know I'm not imagining it."
The silence that follows is heavy. Loaded.
Then Bane speaks.
"You're an omega." His voice is flat. Matter-of-fact. "And we're—"
"Bane." Atlas's voice cuts in sharp. A warning.
"No." Bane doesn't look at his brother. His eyes stay fixed on me. "He asked for honesty. He asked someone to say it out loud." He takes a breath. "Your scent is... it's not like anything I've ever—"
"Stop." The word tears out of me before I can think. "Don't—I don't want to—"
But it's too late. The words are already out there, hanging in the air between us. Omega. The thing I've been hiding my whole life, spoken aloud like it's nothing. Like it's just a fact.
And suddenly I understand.
I'm not going crazy. I'm not imagining the tension, the strange looks, the way they circle me like predators around prey. It's not in my head.
It's me.
I'm the reason. I always have been.
My scent. My biology. Whatever's leaking through without the suppressants—it's been affecting them this whole time. Driving them crazy. Making Zero lose control. Making Atlas protective. Making Bane swing between cruelty and something else entirely.
I'm the problem.
I've always been the problem.
"I have to go." I'm on my feet before I realize I'm moving. The chair scrapes back. My legs feel unsteady but I force them to work. "I shouldn't have—this was a mistake. I shouldn't have started this conversation."
"Max, wait—" Atlas reaches for me.
I'm already at the door. "I can't do this. Not tonight. Not—I just can't."
I don't wait for a response. Don't look back. Just wrench the door open and flee into the hallway, my heart hammering so hard it hurts.
My room isn't far. Just down the hall, around the corner, past the sitting area where this whole disaster started. I make it in seconds that feel like hours, slam the door behind me, twist the lock.
Back pressed against the wood. Breathing hard.
I'm shaking. Full-body tremors I can't control. My skin is too hot, my thoughts are scattered, and I can still hear Bane's voice in my head: You're an omega.
It explains everything.
A knock on the door. Soft. Hesitant.
"Max." Bane's voice. Muffled through the wood. "Can I—can we talk? Just for a minute."
I should say no. Should tell him to go away, leave me alone, let me fall apart in private.
"Please." Something in his voice cracks. "I need to apologize. For... all of it."
My hand moves to the lock before I can stop myself. Turns it. The click sounds impossibly loud.
I step back as the door opens.
Bane slips inside and closes it behind him. He's still shirtless—I'd forgotten, in the chaos of the office—and in the dim light from my window, I can see the tension in his shoulders. The way his hands hang at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.
"I shouldn't have said it like that." He stays by the door. Giving me space. "In front of Atlas. I just—you asked for someone to be honest, and I thought—" He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter what I thought. I made it worse."
"You said what everyone was thinking."
"That doesn't make it okay."
We stare at each other across the dark room. My back is against the wall beside my bed. He's still by the door. Six feet between us. It feels like nothing. It feels like miles.
"I owe you more than that," Bane says quietly. "I owe you an apology for every shitty thing I said. Every time I made you feel like you didn't belong. Every time I looked at you like you were—" He stops. Swallows. "You didn't deserve any of it. And I'm sorry."
The words land somewhere soft and bruised inside me.
"Why?" My voice comes out hoarse. "Why were you so awful to me?"
"Because I was scared." He takes a step closer.
Then another. "Because the first time I saw you, something in my chest went tight and I didn't know what it meant.
And when your scent started breaking through—" Another step.
"I didn't know how to handle it. So I pushed you away.
Told myself you were nothing. That I didn't care. "
He's close now. Too close. I can smell him—amber and sandalwood and sea salt—and my body responds without permission. Heat pooling low in my belly. Pulse quickening.
"But I do care." His voice drops. "That's the problem. I cared from the first minute I saw you. And it's driving me insane."
"Bane—"
"Tell me to stop." He's inches away now. Close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off his bare skin. His eyes are dark, pupils starting to swallow the hazel. "Tell me to leave, and I will. I swear I will. Just say the word."
I should say it. Should push him away. Should protect myself from whatever's about to happen.
My mouth opens.
Nothing comes out.
Bane's hand comes up. Cups my jaw. His palm is warm, his fingers gentle as they curve around the side of my face. He tilts my head back, angling it up toward him, and I let him. Go pliant under his touch like my body knows something my mind hasn't caught up to yet.
"Max." My name is a breath on his lips. A question. A prayer.
And then he's kissing me.
It's nothing like Zero. Nothing rough or desperate or punishing. Bane kisses me like he's savoring it—slow, deliberate, his mouth moving against mine with a care that makes my chest ache. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, asking permission, and I give it without thinking.
Open for him. Let him in.
He groans into my mouth. Low. Rumbling. The sound vibrates through me and I feel it everywhere—in my chest, my stomach, lower. His other hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, holding me exactly where he wants me.
I'm drowning.
The heat that's been simmering under my skin for days roars to life.
My head swims, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.
I'm hard—achingly, desperately hard—and there's a hollow ache deeper inside me, an emptiness that demands to be filled.
My omega biology kicking into overdrive, screaming at me to submit, to present, to let this alpha take whatever he wants.
I whimper against his mouth. Can't help it. Can't control any of this.
Bane deepens the kiss. Explores me. Learns the shape of my mouth like he's memorizing it. His body presses me back against the wall—not rough, just there, solid and warm and overwhelming. I can feel how hard he is against my hip and the knowledge makes me dizzy.
Then he pulls back.
His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of hazel around endless black. His breathing is ragged. His hand is still on my jaw, thumb stroking over my cheekbone like he can't stop touching me.
"I'm sorry," he breathes. "I just—I had to taste you. I had to know if—" He stops. Squeezes his eyes shut. "Fuck."
His hand drops. He takes a step back. Then another.
"I won't—I'm not going to—" He's backing toward the door now, something like horror dawning on his face. "Fuck. I'm just like him. I'm just like Zero. I just—"
"Bane, wait—"
"No." He's at the door. Hand on the knob. Not looking at me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I'm sorry."
He's gone before I can stop him. The door closes. His footsteps retreat down the hall, fast and uneven.
I stand there. Back against the wall. Lips still tingling. Body still screaming.
I want to go after him. Want to tell him it's not the same—that he asked, that he stopped, that I wanted—
But I don't move.
Because going after him would mean admitting things I'm not ready to admit. Would mean opening a door I might not be able to close. Would mean making everything more complicated when it's already impossibly tangled.
So I stay where I am. Let him go. Let him think he's a monster like his brother.
Maybe it's better this way.
My legs give out. I make it to the bed, barely, and collapse face-down onto the mattress.
The sheets are cool against my burning skin.
My hips press into the mattress and I groan—half frustration, half something else entirely.
I'm still hard. Still aching. Still feeling the ghost of Bane's mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, the sound he made when he tasted me.
I bury my face in the pillow and scream.
It doesn't help.
Nothing helps.
I lie there in the dark, body throbbing with tension and want and impossible embarrassment, and I have no idea what the hell I'm supposed to do now.
Three alphas.
One wants to hurt me. One wants to save me. One just ran away because he doesn't want to want me.
And I want all of them.
God help me, I want all of them.
I pull the pillow over my head and pray for sleep that won't come.