“Probably used some free sound files,” I murmur. “But holyshit.”
Ryland and I run our own indie video game company,Wicked Bytes.We’re one of the lucky few people that worked hard and fell into the industry at the right time. It’s enough to make us a decent living, but difficult to explain to anyone that isn’t into gaming.
Not everyone is excited about haunted toys that come to life and go on murdering sprees.
“Were you at least able to tell her what you do for work?” I ask Ryland.
“No. She barely knows my name.”
A burst of anger flares through me. “How did you fuck up that badly?”
A warning growl sounds in Ryland’s chest, one that I rarely hear him make.
But I don’t care. I’m too frustrated that I still haven’t met my scent match.
“Don’t take this shit out on me,” he warns me.
I scowl. “So, it’s okay for you to show up unexpectedly at the rescue but not for me to?”
“Don’t be a dick, Rowan.” By his tone, I know I’ve made my point. A flicker of guilt flashes across his face before he turns away from me and back to his monitors.
I scoff. “Right.”
But I continue to stew inside, forcing myself to finish the playthrough of the horror game. It’s just a demo, but it needsa ridiculous amount of work, and after I finish emailing my summary with notes, I realize what the painful weight in my chest is.
Loneliness.
Terrible, aching loneliness.
How long have I waited for a scent match? I’ve yearned for an Omega for years. Ryland and I have stubbornly waited for a match, refusing to settle for just any Omega we found attractive.
When we met Travis, he had the same mindset, and we formed a pack.
Hell, at thirty-six, I was starting to believe that this could never happen to me.
But Blair exists and wasmadefor us.
Yet, nothing has happened.
I’m fucking helpless, and it infuriates me.
“I’ll going to grab supplies for Ash,” I grumble, standing from my desk. “I’ll be back later.”
“He has plenty of stuff,” Ryland counters. “What more does he need?”
But I ignore my brother.
I just need to get out of the packhouse.
It suddenly feels too cramped in here.
I was crawlingout of my skin back at the packhouse, ruminating in the frustration and loneliness of the scent match situation.
We should be happy, but the three of us are suffering in silence.
Ryland has always handled his emotions better than me. Even growing up, he was calm and practical, while I was the one having breakdowns over minor inconveniences.
I was the one that would punch a wall when something went wrong.
