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Listen, I might be clueless, but I’m not stupid.
And when the nice doctor tells me that I can either wait at the police station while they “sort me out” or “go home with the Thorne Pack”…
Well.
Is it even really a choice?
If all of Wally’s jeers over the years are every bit as true as I feared, the only reason he isn’t already here is…
Him.
Tristan.
I’m not sure how he’s managed to run this place so smoothly, but it seems like every time he says “jump,” people pull out their pogo sticks.
The doctor—Dr. Monroe—sees me blinking at the outline of the suited alpha through the door’s window and offers me a small smile. “Senator Thorne is a very nice alpha. I think, if you were to decide to give him a chance, you might be pleasantly surprised.”
Senator Thorne.
The name sounds familiar, but I’d have to borrow someone’s phone to look up why. Dr. Monroe also told me that the one with the white-blond hair who won’t stop glaring at me is Tristan’s brother, Spencer. He’s a professor, I guess.
A professor is one thing, but a senator? And two pro-athletes?
Their pack is famous.
Highly inconvenient, given I’m an urchin.
I’m still inclined to believe the doctor, though. He’s been really nice so far, and since I can currently feel everything Tristan feels, I know he’s horrified by what just happened.
His scent has burned to ash. Every time a twinge of panic shudders through me, he flinches. And the emotions rolling through his side of this flimsy, pinched bond are… desolate.
He hates himself for doing this.
Is it because of what he’s done? Or who he did it to?
I’ve spent my whole life around alphas, so I know exactly how all of them think. And this? This should be my fault. For not covering my body, properly de-scenting, and keeping my guard up. For ever perfuming at all.
So, it’s hard for me to believe he’d feel like this because he bit me.
But maybe because he bit me.
After all, I can’t think of a less-suitable match for someone in the public eye than… whatever I am.
Oblivious to the terrible tangle inside of me, Avery and Jonah stand by my side, getting more agitated by the second. It takes me a moment to realize it’s my fault—I’m filling this place with my distressed scent, the one that makes the alphas at the club so wild.
These guys only seem angry, though. They each direct a pointed look at the blond man sneering at me.
Jonah’s big hand hesitates before it cups my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Don’t mind Spencer,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk to him.”
Tristan seems a bit beyond talking. He interrupts whatever his brother is muttering. The pack alpha’s bark is quiet but hard as diamond. “Enough.”
I wish I could say that that burst of alpha dominance scared me as much as the thought of four grown men fighting because of me… but instead, a humiliating burst of wetness seeps out of my core, along with a wave of fresh, true perfume.
Behind me, Jonah grunts like a cannonball has just collided with his stomach. Avery bites out a vicious curse, sinking his teeth into his fist as he spins away.
I hang my head and manage to force one word around the lump in my throat. “S-sorry”
Such a sorry little slut, perfuming all the damn time. You must love these alphas all over you. Bet you’re slick for them, too.
