Like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Which is ridiculous. I'm wearing a shapeless uniform that smells like equipment cleaner, my hair is stuffed under a ratty cap, and I haven't slept properly in days.
Nope. Ihaveto be reading into that.
Finally, as if by some unspoken agreement, we both start backing away in opposite directions. Wraith back into the hall, me back toward the vending machine. When his back brushesthe concrete wall and there's nowhere else for him to go, he holds up his palms as if to clearly signal he isn't a threat. That he isn't going to try to block me, or grab me, or hurt me.
I force myself to walk calmly, steadily, until I'm around the corner and out of sight. Only then do I let myself pick up speed.
Those blue eyes follow me the whole way. I can feel them burning into my back long after I've left his line of sight.
By the time I make it back to my hidden nest, I'm trembling. I collapse onto my makeshift nest of blankets and stolen team merchandise, trying in vain to steady my breathing as I clutch the unopened granola bar.
Everything is falling apart.
First Plague discovering signs of my presence in the equipment room. Then Sam's suspicious looks during my ill-advised attempt to establish a cover story.
And now this.
A Ghost in my sanctuary.
Suddenly, my safe haven doesn't feel so safe anymore.
Does Wraith come here often when the team is here? I don't know much about the Ghosts thanks to Wade's paranoia every time he believed I was even thinking about them, but I do know Wraith is known for being so private, so reserved, that he makes Plague seem downright friendly in comparison.
I pick nervously at the scent suppressant patch on the back of my neck. It feels slippery beneath my fingers, like it isn't quite stuck on as much as it should be.
Oh, gods.
What if he caught my scent?
Omegas are rare. Smelling like an omega would immediately narrow down who I am. And single omegas who aren't hanging off an alpha's arm—or the arms of an entire pack—don't easily go unnoticed.
The granola bar wrapper crinkles as I finally open it, more out of nervous habit than actual hunger. I need to think. I need to adapt. I need...
I need to not throw up from stress.
I force myself to take small bites of the granola bar, trying to settle my stomach. On the screens before me, life in the arena continues as normal. Staff members go about their routines. Players come and go from practice. Everything looks perfectly ordinary.
Except nothing is ordinary anymore.
Nothing is secure.
Nothing is certain.
And I have no idea what to do about it.
I switch between camera feeds, searching for any sign of Wraith, but he's vanished as completely as his namesake. The maintenance tunnels appear empty, but I know better now. He could be anywhere down here, moving through the shadows like he owns them.
Which, I suppose, he does. This is his territory, after all.I'mthe intruder here. At least he seemed more concerned with hiding his own face than questioning why I was lurking in the tunnels.
But as I curl up on my nest, I can't shake the feeling that something has shifted. Some invisible line has been crossed. This is so much worse than when Plague found the skate.
This time, I’ve beenseen.
Chapter
Six
