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Neither of us wants anything to do with any omega but ours.
We never will again.
Jonah finally realizes we’re being approached and folds his cash into the back pocket of his jeans. His broad shoulders expand as he squares up to the stranger, sliding his eyes over his outfit and clocking that strange pocket square the same way I did. He’s more subtle than I was, but I notice a slight wince under his dark facial hair.
The alpha comes to a stop right in front of Jonah and me. I sense shuffling behind us in the locker room, but I can’t focus on it with a more direct threat staring me down.
The man’s shrewd, dark eyes jump from my face to Jonah’s. He frowns mildly. “Are you the Thorne Pack?”
All the commotion at our backs suddenly makes sense when a sweaty, shirtless Avery steps between us. His wild, pale eyes flash. “Who’s asking?”
If this alpha is off-put by my packmate’s obvious bloodlust, he doesn’t let on. His head tilts slightly, assessing all of us carefully before he says, “My name is Smith Pierson. This is my omega.”
He extracts a cell phone from his inner jacket pocket, swiping at the screen to reveal a photo.
Of Serena.
All three of us immediately snarl. Is this one of the despicable alphas from that godforsaken club? Has he been following her or watching us?—
But, no.
I raise my hands to my enraged packmates, leaning closer to the image glowing up at us.
Because it isn’t Serena.
This woman has the same face, the same coloring, and a similarly breathtaking smile—but her eyes are blue. Her hair is curly. And she’s surrounded by other alphas, happily snuggled between them in a way our omega would never allow with anyone but us.
Smith Pierson watches me realize what I’m looking at: his omega. Who is identical to mine.
His mouth pulls into a scowl as he sighs, “I think we need to talk.”
chapter
sixty-two
I don’t know why I’m here.
Naked. Running.
Scrambling is maybe a better word.
I remember being in my bed with one of my alphas. The tall one who never lets me do anything for him. Except this time, he had to. Because this time, I didn’t give him a choice.
Is that why I feel so panicked? Was he mad? Did I stay there long enough to find out?
Nothing makes any sense at all, which is the very worst sign. That means everything—including the burning, terrifying pain—is about to start. I have to get somewhere dark and safe. Maybe find a pillow and a blanket if Wally’s left one anywhere…
My mind doesn’t know what I’m doing, but my feet carry me to a room that’s perfect. Sumptuous dark fabrics, satin cushions, low light. Maybe, if we stay hidden here until our heat starts, Wally won’t come get us and make us go in the basement closet.
I huddle under the first blanket I find and say a little prayer, begging whoever is listening not to make me leave this room. It smells miraculous in here. Like summertime and thunderstorms and torched sugar and night jasmine. All of my favorite things.
“Omega?”
Oh God, is he coming? Did he find me already?!
It doesn’t sound like him. This voice is too quiet and echoey. When I hear it again, I jump, realizing it isn’t coming from outside my cocoon… but inside my body.
Serena? Can you hear me, sweet one?
