Tom stood motionless in the center of the room, the shirt still bunched in his hands. For a long moment, he didn’t move. The only sound was from traffic on the street below.
And then it hit. He’d been ordered to cozy up to the man who had torn out his heart without a second thought. His mate. Who didn’t want him.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, shirt still clutched tight. Everything in him felt hollow. Like someone had scooped out his insides and left the shell sitting upright, pretending it was fine.
He started to unpack, hands shaking just slightly. Socks. Pants. His phone charger. But his chest was tight and his throat was burning and—
You’re not what I want.
That’s what it had come down to. He wasn’t enough.
Zack had said it outright, cold and cutting.You’ve got as much depth as a pane of glass,Tom Barrington.
Bryce hadn’t needed to say the words. But the result was the same.
And if Tom ended up in the shower, it was because he felt sweaty from the long meeting. Not because the water disguised the sound of him falling apart.
Chapter Twenty-one
TOM
Hours after the rest of the Council party had left for the airport, Tom still sat in his hotel room, contemplating the wallpaper. He had no idea what time it was, only that the pink and blue chrysanthemums had blurred into a headache-inducing mess.
Eventually, he had to acknowledge that the only way out was through. The sooner he had something useful to tell Councilor Steadman, the sooner he could leave.
He balked at the thought of driving back to the ranch and seeing the look on Bryce’s face when he found Tom still hadn’t taken the hint. Just the thought of it made his gut twist. Remembering that three of the pack worked at the diner, he decided to try there first. Maybe he could do this quietly, get what he needed without ever going near Bryce again.
The moment he stepped inside, he second-guessed his decision.
“Tom!” Tristan was beaming as he moved forward. He waved a menu around like it was a lightsaber, narrowly missing Nerissa, who was at the same table as before, watching Tom with unblinking interest.
“Oops, sorry, Ms. Taylor.” He brandished the menu in Tom’s direction, only just missing his eye. “Why haven’t you gone back to Washington? Is the councilor still here? Oh, and do you want a table?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Tom managed a faint smile. However hollow he felt inside, it was impossible to resist Tristan’s enthusiasm. Especially when he wrangled a quick break and plopped down in the seat across from Tom.
Tristan started talking almost immediately—about howamazingit had been to speak to Councilor Steadman, and what the President might make of an Argent. Tom sipped his coffee and let him talk. It was easier than trying to find words himself. He was wrung dry.
Eventually, Tristan slowed, his brow creasing. “Hey, are you okay? You look like crap.” He winced. “I mean—sorry. You just don’t look like you, that’s all.”
“I think I’m coming down with something,” Tom said, clutching at the excuse Steadman had given him. It might not even be a lie, because his stomach had turned at the smell of food as he’d walked in and it hadn’t grown any happier as he’d sipped at his coffee. He pushed the cup away from him.
“I know it’s none of my business, but—”
“Do you have Matt’s number?” Tom cut in before he could hear Bryce’s name spoken aloud. He wasn’t ready to hear it again. He didn’t think he’d ever be.
Tristan blinked, startled, but pulled out his phone without protest. As he turned the screen to show Tom the number, Tom’s path became clear to him.
He wasn’t interested in manipulating this pack just because one of them happened to shine under moonlight. The political stakes were high, but the personal stakes for Jesse, for Matt, for the entirepackwere incalculable. He’d be upfront with Jesse and Matt about what Bennett intended and what Steadman was scared of. Then, they could make their own decisions, fully informed.
And if Steadman didn’t like it, well, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about that. It wasn’t as though she could do anything more than fire him.
Tom hit call and lifted the phone to his ear. Whatever Tristan had been about to say about Bryce, he didn’t want to hear it. Not now. And if he had anything to say about it, not ever.
BRYCE
“Bryce.”
He carefully set down the beam onto the pile of lumber, noting with some surprise that his muscles ached as he did so. He didn’t know how long he’d been doing this, but as he turned to face Matt, he was aware of sweat stinging his eyes.
