“If you’ve got something to say, get on with it,” he said abruptly.
RILEY
Jason looked like hell. He was pale, bruised under the eyes, and his mouth was tight, like he’d locked down every emotion and swallowed the key. He lookednothinglike Jason—always so open and giving.
And Riley had done that to him. Fuck. It made him want to mouth off to Urban, say something deliberately offensive so that the other wolves would tear him apart here and now. It would be easier than this.
But no, he didn’t get to take the easy way out. He’d wrecked this, wreckedJason.He was the only one who could try to fix it, no matter how hopeless it seemed.
“You know I didn’t come here to write a book,” he said, and had to clear his throat because his voice was thick. “From the start, I was here to investigate the pack. My paper heard rumors that Urban was hiding an Argent, planning to use it for leverage in the next election cycle.”
Jason let out a slow breath, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, tired. “I worked that much out for myself.”
The words hurt. Jason sounded utterly worn out, like he couldn’t even summon the energy to be angry. As if Riley had hollowed him out and left nothing.
“I never—you were never—hell, Jason, when we met, I didn’t know you were part of the pack. It was days before I even knew you were a shifter.” The words spilled out, desperate, because Riley didn’t know how else to make Jason hear him. “I swear, what was between us was real.Everythingbetween us was real.”
Jason just looked at him, his brown eyes unreadable. “Why do you think I’d believe anything you say now?”
Something in Riley splintered, forcing words out. “Because I love you.”
He hadn’t known he was going to say it. He hadn’t even known that was what he felt, not until the words came out, sharp and undeniable.
But it didn’t change a damn thing. Jason didn’t react. No anger, no shock. Justnothing. Like Riley’s words didn’t matter. Riley had expected fury or hate, but this quiet nothing was worse than anything he’d imagined.
He struggled to recover himself. “I love you,” he repeated, and he knew it was the truth. “And you were never part of this…” Lost for the right words, he gestured around himself to indicate the pack and his story.
Jason shook his head, and Riley could read the expression in his face now. He just wished he couldn’t. Jason had already made up his mind.
“That’s the thing,” Jason said. “You won’t admit even to yourself that I’m as much a shifter as the rest of them, that they’re my pack. I read that article.” His voice sharpened. “I know what you think of us—small-town shifters, only good enough to be the punchline to jokes.”
Riley wanted to say something, though he didn’t know what. To protest, to beg? But it didn’t matter, because Jason kept going.
“For the record, if therewasan Argent in the pack, there isn’t a single one of us who would use another in that way. And we sure as hell don’t want any sort of political power. We just want to be left alone by the likes of you and your damned newspaper.”
Riley nodded. His throat was aching too much for him to speak, because he was beginning to understand quite howawesomely he’d fucked up. In every single last way that defied forgiveness.
“I’m sorry,” he forced out finally, and the words sounded hollow, even to him.
Jason looked at him for a long moment, then gave a humorless, bitter smile. “I guess that’s something,” he said, before he turned and walked away.
Riley clenched his fists to stop himself reaching out. There was no point. There was nothing left to hold onto.
Jason had discovered the truth of who Riley was, the way everyone else in his life had. And the worst of it was, Riley couldn’t blame him for leaving.
He ached as he slowly opened his car door and got in. Along with the strange feeling in his chest, every part of his body hurt. He figured it was what old age must feel like. God knew, all he wanted was to go to sleep and never wake up.
Riley had his hands braced on the steering wheel, knuckles white, when there was a tap on his window. For a heartbeat, wild hope rushed through him. Maybe Jason—
He turned his head. And that fragile, ridiculous hope crumbled. It wasn’t Jason. Jesse Turner stood there, leaning one hip casually against the car.
“Mind telling us where you got that cockeyed story about an Argent?” he asked conversationally, as if everything Riley was hadn’t just been dismantled in front of him. “Wouldn’t mind setting the record straight.”
Riley didn’t even hesitate. There was no point in hiding it. There was no point in anything anymore. “Some drunk shifter,” he said. His voice sounded wrecked even to his own ears. “I didn’t get a name. He was killed in a bar fight.”
“And who says karma don’t exist?” Jesse murmured. The way he was looking at Riley made it clear he wasn’t only talking aboutthe dead shifter. Then his gaze sharpened. “You want my advice? Don’t ever come back here.”
It wasn’t a threat, not really. More a warning.
