One of her new alphas.
The possessive bastard slides in, a shadow taking my place, blocking me from her, claiming her without saying a damn word. His hand settles low on her back, just above the curve of her ass.
And she lets him.
No flinch. No correction. She leans into it—just a little—but enough to tell me everything. Natural. Wanted. Mine, once. His, now.
I don’t hear the exact words he murmurs to her—I can’t. The blood is rushing too hard in my ears. But I see it. The way her eyes warm, her guard slipping without her even realizing, in the same way she did with me before I kissed Dee.
My chest tightens.
That should be me. It should still be me. But it’s not. Because when it got real, I got scared, and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t strong enough to fight for her then.
Now he is. And I have to watch it happen. Goddamn it.
I force myself to turn away before I do something stupid—before I remind her that she is still mine, that I still feel thebond in my fucking bones, even if she’s already moved on. Even if the mark on her neck has burned away.
I barely make it off the track before my mask starts to crack. I should leave. I should pack up my shit and go back home, let her go, like I should have done the moment she walked out of that restaurant.
But I can’t.
I promised her I’d help get her to Nationals.
I promised I wouldn’t screw up again.
And I won’t break my promises.
Even if it kills me. Even if I have to stand on the sidelines and watch as another man does what I was too much of a fucking coward to do.
So I square my shoulders. Take a breath. Swallow down every last ounce of jealousy and regret and remind myself?—
This isn’t about me.
This is about her.
And this time, I won’t let her down.
CHAPTER 30
Carson
I’m notproud of how fast I volunteered to watch Willow tonight. Told my pack I could handle it. Truth is, after the shit storm with her ex, Ineedto be close to her.
Graham shoots me a look. Hunter grunts. I shove them both toward the door anyway. If one of us has to stay, it’s gonna be me.
Now I’m parked in the corner of her room, chair tipped back, legs stretched out, pretending I’m relaxed. Pretending I’m not on edge. Not fucked sideways by the fact that I’m alone with her tonight.
The sound of the bathroom door opening makes my pulse kick up a notch.
And fuck me.
She’s wearing a silky little set, all soft, clinging fabric that makes my mouth dry. Tiny shorts. A thin-strapped tank top that’s loose in all the wrong places. Bare fucking legs.
She hesitates for only a second when she spots me. Then, instead of scurrying under the covers or looking remotely uncomfortable, she tilts her chin up and narrows her eyes at me in challenge.
“You’re in my room.”
I lift a brow. “You noticed.”
