I cannot. My throat has closed around whatever words I might have offered, and all that remains is the thundering of my pulse and the heat spreading through my body and the desperate, shameful want that I have spent three years trying to bury.
Bastien steps back.
The loss of his proximity is immediate and acute, leaving me cold despite the warmth still prickling across my skin.
"I will be back later," he says, his tone shifting back to casual, all traces of the predator tucked away beneath the charming surface. "Be ready to party. Tonight is about celebrating your newfound freedom, not mourning what you lost."
He strolls toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob to throw one last glance over his shoulder.
"Besides, you are not being dragged down by my loser brother and that follower Cal anymore. Consider it an upgrade."
The door opens and closes.
He is gone.
I stand in the middle of my empty dorm, my heart hammering against my ribs, my body thrumming with an energy I do not know how to discharge. Everything feels wrong. The room. The silence. The ache in my chest that will not quiet no matter how many times I tell it to shut up.
I do not want her.
The thought rises like a mantra, a desperate attempt to convince myself of a truth I am not sure I believe.
I do not need them. Cal and Etienne and their stupid loyalty to some Omega who showed up two days ago and decided to make my life difficult. I am fine on my own. I have always been fine on my own. I was fine before I had a pack and I will be fine without one.
They can have the nerdy hoe. She will not last long. Five weeks, that is all she has. Five weeks until Valentine's Day when the university reviews pack statuses and she will realize that a temporary arrangement with three Alphas who barely know her is not a real pack. It is a band-aid on a bullet wound. A delusion they are all sharing to avoid dealing with reality.
In less than five weeks, she will be gone. She will fail to meet the requirements, or she will get bored, or she will realize that Cal is too soft and Etienne is too quiet and Raphaël is too new to give her what she actually needs. And when that happens, when she disappears back into whatever sad circumstance she crawled out of, they will come crawling back to me.
Begging for me to return.
Admitting they made a mistake.
And maybe by then I will have proved myself to Bastien. Maybe by then I will have earned back what I lost when he left. Maybe by then I will have someone who actually sees my worth instead of constantly comparing me to everyone else.
The thoughts spiral, each one feeding the next, building a narrative that lets me avoid examining the feelings underneath. Anger is easier than hurt. Resentment is easier than loneliness. Convincing myself I do not care is easier than admitting how much I do.
I huff, ruffling my hair with both hands, trying to shake the weight that has settled across my shoulders.
Another laugh filters through the wall.
Mae again. Bright and warm and belonging to a world I just removed myself from.
I cannot stay here.
I cannot stand in this empty room listening to them be happy while I fall apart in the silence. I cannot spend another minute trapped with my own thoughts, my father's voice, Bastien's lingering scent, and the question I refuse to answer.
I grab my jacket from the box I dropped earlier, fishing my wallet out of the inside pocket.
The convenience store on campus is a five-minute walk. They sell the essentials, snacks and energy drinks and the various vices that college students pretend they do not indulge in. Including cigarettes.
I quit smoking a year ago.
It was a New Year's resolution that I actually kept, one of the few promises to myself that I managed to honor. The coach was happy, said it would improve my lung capacity and my performance on the ice. My father was happy, said it showed discipline and commitment to the goal. Even Cal was happy, no longer waving his hand in front of his face and complaining about the smell clinging to my clothes.
But right now, in this moment, with everything crumbling and nothing making sense and Bastien's touch still ghosting across my skin, I do not care about lung capacity. I do not care about discipline. I do not care about the goals my father set orthe promises I made to myself when I was trying to be a better person.
I just need to feel like I am making a choice that belongs to me.
Even if it is a bad one.
