Bastion’s out of the room before I can answer. I watch him go, shoulders hunched, hands jammed deep in his pockets like he might tear the lining if he squeezes hard enough.
Wyatt lingers on the couch. His eyes track Bastion to the door, then land on me. He lets out a breath, slow and measured.
“You ever think maybe it’s not her that needs to change?” he asks, soft.
I don’t answer.
He stands, stretching out the kinks in his back. “I’m not saying I want to be here. But I don’t want to be the guy who lets an omega suffer just because I’m scared of what happens if we actually give a shit.”
I open my mouth, but he’s already leaving.
The room empties, leaving just the sound of my pulse and the distant, muffled whine of Emery’s heat. I sit there, hands trembling, and let the scent creep into every corner of me. Outside, I hear the sound of a door slamming. Bastion, probably. Or Wyatt.
I stand, muscles stiff, and walk to the window. The sky is slate blue, heavy with clouds. Rain is coming, or maybe snow. It’s hard to tell. The city looks peaceful from here, but I know it’s just a trick of distance. Up close, everything is broken.
I press my forehead to the glass and let the cold bite into my skin. It’s the only thing that makes sense right now.
Behind me, the silence grows. I close my eyes and try to block it out, but the scent of Emery is stronger now—so sweet it burns.
I wonder if she’s crying.
I wonder if she hates us.
I wonder if, in another world, this could have been different.
The thoughts pile up, one on top of the other, until the only thing left is a raw, animal ache.
Finally, I move.
I grab my coat and storm out of the room, down the hall, past the kitchen where the breakfast someone made this morning sits untouched. I throw open the front door and step into the chill, the air so sharp it makes my eyes water.
I walk. I don’t know where I’m going, just that I need to move. The world outside is gray and empty, the streets slick with last night’s rain. My feet hit the pavement, hard and fast, and for a moment I almost outrun the scent, the memory, the crushing pressure of what I left behind.
Almost.
I stop at the end of the block, breathing hard. My head is spinning, my hands shaking. I look back at the house, at the warm glow of the windows, and for the first time I feel the weight of what I’ve done.
I could go back. I could knock on her door. I could hold her, just for a minute, just long enough to make it hurt less.
But I don’t.
CHAPTER 19
Wyatt
It takesme fifteen minutes to walk off the urge. I make it two blocks before the cold stops biting, then double back and stand across the street from Everhart Manor. It glows. It pulses like a heartbeat. Inside, I know Emery is alone in that nest she built—layers of pillows, blankets, all our old shirts, maybe even the ones we thought we lost to the laundry.
I watch the windows go from dark to gold. The city is waking up, but I’m still wired for midnight.
I tell myself I’m just going to check on her. Maybe bring water. Maybe make sure she hasn’t actually died or combusted. I tell myself I can handle it, that I’m just stronger, more logical, more in control than Bastion or Ranier.
Yeah, okay. Fake it til you make it or whatever.
I let myself into the manor through the back door and leave my shoes on the mat. Every inch of the downstairs hall smells like her. By the time I’m upstairs it’s so thick I taste it in my mouth, cotton candy and something sharp, bright as summer lightning. It goes straight to my head, thenlower. I press my hand to the wall and will myself to keep it together.
The house is empty. No Bastion, no Ranier. No one to stop me from making the dumbest decision of my year.
Or the most right.
