Peter studies me for another moment, then nods. “Fair enough. Just don’t disappear, Whitlock. This town still needs you, even if it’s not in a suit and tie.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
And this time, it feels true.
I shake his hand, firm, final, and walk out.
The hallway stretches ahead, bright with late afternoon sun filtering through the windows. I’m no longer trapped inside these walls. I’m free.
But then, I feel Lo rising up within me. That strangled panic that I’ve tried so hard to get used to. Her essence in my soul and in my chest is a raging ocean of water, ebbing and flowing. Only this time, it’s a waterspout of anxiety, churning and twirling and twisting.
Something’s wrong.
I dig my phone out of my pocket, ready to call her and ask what’s going on. Ready to text the pack and tell everyone what I’ve just done. But a text from Beck stops me in my tracks.
Beck:Lo has received threats from Dylan again. Picture evidence of the fact that he set the fire at the townhouse. I’m taking her to your place.
Shit.
All the heat burns out of me.
I need to get home. I need to get to my pack.
I need to get to my Omega.
CHAPTER 37
Lo
Idon’t remember the drive. Just Beck’s hand clamped over mine, and the inside of my skull screaming like a kettle someone forgot on the stove. My phone’s dead, which is probably a blessing because if I have to read that text again, I’ll throw up. Or scream. Or both.
The truck crunches to a stop on gravel, and I blink as if someone just shook me awake. Hayes and Ford’s place. My home. At the moment, anyway. It still doesn’t feel quite like home since Beck doesn’t live with us.
Beck kills the engine. Turns to me with that tight-jawed hero face on.
“You’re okay,” he practically demands.
Am I?
I nod anyway because what else am I supposed to do? My head feels like it’s full of bees. Angry ones. With knives.
The car door swings open before I can even move. Ford stands there, a statue carved out of bad moods, Henley stretched over those stupid arms, a beer dangling from his fingers. His brows slam together when he sees me.
“I felt you and came as soon as I could. What happened?”
“Inside first,” Beck snaps, all Alpha-command, and for once, I don’t roll my eyes at it.
Ford steps back, silent but simmering, and Beck ushers me inside. The home smells of cedar and vanilla, honeycomb and fresh linen, Christmas trees wrapped in leather. And all of it drenched in my sugary peach scent. It’s warm, and fruity, and woodsy, just like the holidays that are upon us, and it makes my chest hurt because, God, I want to feel safe in it. I really do.
Ford drops the beer bottle on the counter so hard it makes a sound loud as a gunshot.
“Lo—”
“I’m fine.”
Lie. Lie. Lie.
My voice sounds like gravel run through a blender, but I manage to spit it out because what am I supposed to say?Actually, someone out there thinks I’m their favorite horror movie, and guess what? I’m the final girl.
