The room spins around me, and I drop my head into my hands.
“Cole?”
Dad’s hand disappears from my cheek. There’s movement around me, but I’m too dizzy to attempt to figure out exactly what is happening.
“Son?”
It’s Father, the usually happy thread in his voice absent. Without meaning to, I list toward him, and his arms cage me in, holding me against his chest even as a growl rumbles through him. There’s a stinging pain in my thumb.
Someone must be checking my levels.
All at once, my eyes are too heavy to open, and I can’t quite feel my hands anymore.
Please don’t be a crisis.
There’s a muttered curse, but it feels relieved rather than worried.
“45,” Dad says. “He should be okay with a booster.”
Father’s arms tighten around me. He hums, and the soothing nature of it calms my racing heart. There’s a pain in my leg where someone must be giving me my emergency stabilizer.
“Pretty Omega,” Rylan’s voice is full of warning. “Let your dads handle it.”
There’s a new hand touching my shoulder. By some miracle, I manage to open my eyes. Most of the room is too blurry, my gaze unable to focus any of the information. Violet, though, I can see just fine, her eyebrows furrowed in worry but her eyes alight with a rage I’ve rarely seen from her.
“Cole?” my sister asks. “Can you hear me?”
I lift my thumb so she knows I can. In another couple seconds, I’m going to be unconscious. I always pass out after needing emergency boosters.
“Good. We’re going to fix this, okay? Just trust me.”
“Fix what?” I manage to whisper.
“Your match,” she says. “Marcus Harper, right?”
I’m out before I can answer her.
Seven
CHARLOTTE
The cafe is busy, but it’s easy enough to spot Marcus tucked in the back surrounded by the glass of the corner windows looking out over the street twenty feet below. His eyes are locked on something outside, but his hand clenches the mug on the table so hard his knuckles are white. My throat tightens, but I breathe through it. Megan grabs my arm as we navigate the tables, skipping the counter to order.
An envelope sits in the center of the table.
Here we go.
We’ll finally learn the Omega’s name.
I didn’t have the heart to ask Marcus over the last week. He’s been so… fragile, something I never thought I’d see from him. His shoulders have been rigid, and his entire countenance has felt like one sharp word will shatter him entirely.
When I run my hand along his shoulder, he pulls his gaze away from the windows. His throat ripples with a swallow, and then he laces his fingers with mine, bringing our combined hands to his lap.
Megan sits in the open chair across from him, leaving the one closer to him for me. Instead, I opt for his lap, letting go of his hand to wedge myself in the small space between him and the table without disturbing his hold on the mostly-full coffee. He kisses my temple, the touch second-nature, and I relax into him, trying to ease all the tension from him despite not being an Omega.
“Love you,” I whisper, trying my best to lace it with the possession I feel but don’t quite yet understand how to wield. His arm tightens around my waist.
“I know, Lottie,” he says.
