WRAITH
My fingers trace the edges of my mask. The fabric sits secure against the ruin of my lower face, but I check again.
And again.
No gaps.
The omega didn't see.
She couldn't have—her reaction proves it.
No screaming.
No running.
Her scent cuts through the memory, clouding my thoughts. I inhale as deep as I can, drinking in the lingering ghost of her. Letting wild honeysuckle fill my entire ribcage, my head, my soul if I have any of it left.
Even faint and muted, she calls to me.
An omega.
Here.
In my domain.
My...
No.
I slam my fist into the concrete. The impact vibrates up my arm. Pain blooms across my knuckles, sharp and grounding.
Good.
Physical pain is better than this.
Scent match.
The words echo in my mind like a taunt. A cruel joke. I know what this is. Every alpha talks about it. Brags about it. That instant recognition when you meet your fated match. The way your entire body comes alive.
Every cell screamingmine.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Not for me.
Monsters don't get scent matches.
But my body doesn't care what monsters deserve. Every nerve ending is on fire. Drawn to her lingering presence like a moth to flame. I want to follow it, to track her down, to...
To what?
Terrify her again?
I press my forehead against the cold concrete, breathing slow and deliberate until the urge to hunt her down fades tosomething manageable. My bloodied knuckles sting where they rest against the wall.
Hannah.
That's what her ID badge said.
