45. Carter
Chapter forty-five
Carter
“Reynolds!”
Kneeling over the toilet, I retch again. Digging in my pocket, I yank out the pills and tip them into the basin, shaking the bottle until every single one is gone and flushing before I can shove my hand in to drag them back out.
No more.
I’m fucking hallucinating.
Swaying, I bang my head on the door of the cubicle and swear. A fist bangs against the door. “Rosie’s in trouble, Cart. Get your fucking ass out here!”
My legs can’t hold me up. I stumble again, just like I did on the rink before my knees hit the ice hard enough to give me another year of fucking treatment.
The door bangs, and hands drag me out. Swearing, I try to push them off, but they shove me up against the mirror with a crash. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Didn’t you hear me?”
Boone stares at me wildly, searching my face before he releases my jersey with a snarl of disgust. “You’re high.”
“’m not.” I stumble around him to wash my hands, scrubbing at my face with the cold water until some fucking clarity re-enters my brain. “Fuck off, will you?”
“I’ll bring him. Go with Reid.” The pretty asshole steps up beside Boone. The fucker swears at me before striding out, slamming the door behind him hard enough that it bounces off the hinges.
“You can fuck off too.” I toss more water on my face. Christ, it’s hot.
“Rosie’s hurt,” Navarro says slowly. My eyes raise to meet his in the mirror.
“Rosie’s fine.” She’s upstairs, waiting for me to come and take her home so I can finally tell Liam and Jonas that we’re done. Over. “Fucking ghosts.”
“Look at me.” I grunt as he yanks me back. Navarro grabs my face, pinching it. “You feel that? This is fucking real, Reynolds. I don’t know what shit you’ve taken, but your omega’s down the hall with a torn mating mark in her neck, and the only person not fucking worried is you!”
I pause. “You’re not real.”
“Jesus,” he breathes, stepping back. “Think about this. You really want to take the risk that I’m not?”
It takes me a minute to work out his meaning. My thoughts feel like fucking treacle.
Rosie.
My legs lose their strength again, and Navarro hauls me up. “Fucking hell.”
“Rosie.” I slur her name. “She’s hurt.”
He drags me out of the bathroom, shoving me down the hall as I weave like a sailor on land for the first time in years. “Keep going.”
I steady myself against a photo from the last team shoot, staring at my face. Navarro’s reflection looms behind me, the glass cold beneath my fingers.
Real.
It’s fucking real.
I take off without another word. Navarro keeps pace with me, shoving me down the Aces hall when I slow. “Down here.”
There’s a crowd of people gathered around a doorway, and a roar from inside propels me forward. People step out of my way as I charge through with Navarro on my heels, skidding to a stop in the doorway.
Boone has Liam’s neck in a grip against the wall, his knuckles bleeding as he pulls back and hits him again.
Nobody is stopping him. The weirdest fucking line-up I’ve ever seen stares at me, and I stare back. “What the fuck?”
A small sob comes from behind Benji. “Carter.”
My heart stops. Everything fucking stops. The line shifts to let me through as I dive forward, landing on my knees. “Ro?”
Her head is in Lauren’s lap. The other omega looks up, her lips bloodless. “She needs help, but she won’t let anyone close. It’s bad, Carter.”
My fingers brush against the marks, and she whimpers.
“Baby,” I whisper raggedly.
Deep, vicious, bleeding teeth marks ring a circle on the side of her neck, as if someone clamped down and shook her like a toy.
A mating mark where mine was meant to be, one day. One day, after a perfect day.
Someone took that from her. Took her choice from her.
Hurt her.
And where were you? A voice whispers.
Chewing down oxy in the toilets for a hit.
I was getting high, while my omega, my Rosie, was getting hurt.
My fault.
My hand reaches for her hair, only to fall away. She’s watching me through eyes that are barely open. “Who was it, baby?”
But I know who it was. Boone roars again behind me, a brawl breaking out as others wade in. “You fucking assaulting piece of shit.”
Horror crawls over my skin, flaying it open.
She picked me. Chose me. Loved me, and I repaid her by letting this happen.
“Carter,” she whispers.
I lean over her with a sob. Strands of red hair look darker, congealed, caught against the torn, broken skin of her neck. “Yeah, baby? We need to get someone in here to patch you up.”
Rosie shrinks back into Lauren, and it fucking guts me. “No. Can we go now?”
“Go where?”
“Away.” Rosie looks at me again, and I curve over from the phantom knife in my chest. “I want to go now. Please.”
Her words spread out until each one is barely audible.
I misread what was happening in my pack. So badly, and this is the result.
This is my damned fault.
And now she has an unwanted bite mark, and I can barely see her face because my head is swimming.
Because… I’m an addict.
I stare down at my shaking hands, and back at her face.
“Carter,” Lauren breathes. “She’s bleeding really badly.”
He didn’t even seal it. He tore into her neck and didn’t bother finishing the job while I was seeing ghosts and pushing away the people telling me my omega needed me.
“Please,” Rosie says again. A sob curls her frame. “I… want to go.”
And my heart shatters into a thousand broken, jagged shards.