The room goes completely silent. I feel the blood drain from my face as the implication sinks in. Francine lost her parents to the fire, too. To the same killer. Her own mother.
Fuck.
“She...” My voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat. “She never said anything about that.”
“Why would she?” Elias asks softly. “She was probably terrified of how you’d react.” His expression turns bitter. “And look how right she was.”
“She didn’t deserve this,” I say quietly, envisioning a young Francine scared and confused, wondering where the rest of her family was.
“Damn right she didn’t,” says Drake, his anger diffusing slightly when he sees the remorse in my eyes.
“I fucked up so bad,” I groan, sinking onto the couch.
“Yeah, you did,” Rowan agrees, but his voice has lost its edge. He sits beside me, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “But we can fix it.”
“I don’t know. The look on her face when I told her leave. It was the ultimate betrayal,” I say, feeling empty and not knowing what to think now.
“She’ll understand,” says Drake. “She doesn’t even forgive her own mother.”
“I’ll call off the investigation on the fire,” I say suddenly. “There’s no point now. We know who did it.”
“She’s dead anyway,” says Elias quietly.
“I don’t know if Francine will forgive me,” I admit. “I wouldn’t in her position.”
The four of us sit in silence for a moment, the reality of our situation settling over us. I’ve potentially destroyed our only chance at having the omega fate intended for us.
I make my way upstairs, my feet carrying me automatically to the room where Francine stayed. I push open the door, and herscent hits me immediately—cherry blossoms, now tainted with the salty tang of tears.
I step inside, closing the door behind me.
The bed is still rumpled from where I sat looking at those newspaper clippings. I run my hand over the sheets, remembering how she looked coming out of the bathroom in just a towel, her red hair wet and clinging to her skin.
The absolute horror in her eyes when she saw me holding the newspapers of our parents’ deaths.
Tears spill over, tracking hot down my cheeks as I sink onto the bed. I press a fist against my heart, trying to ease the aching there. My phone is heavy in my pocket. I pull it out, thumb hovering over her contact information.
I start to type a text, then delete it.
It would be better to talk in person than over text message. I need to see her face-to-face.
The car feels too small for four grown alphas, especially when three of them are silently judging me behind the wheel. I grip the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white as we speed toward Francine’s apartment.
The back seat and the trunk are stuffed with flowers and chocolate. It seems pathetic and laughable to me, but Rowan insisted.
I glance in the rearview mirror. Rowan sits stoically, his eyes focused on the passing scenery, but I can feel the disappointment radiating from him. Next to him, Elias is tapping away on his phone, probably researching ‘how to apologize to your omega after being a complete asshole.’ Drake,in the passenger seat, hasn’t looked at me once since we got in the car.
We barely managed to get Nora off to school this morning. She sensed something was wrong, asking where “Franny” was in that innocent way that made me want to crawl into a hole. Drake told her Francine had to take care of some personal business but would be back soon. The lie tasted sour in the air.
The expensive bouquets of roses, lilies, and cherry blossoms fill the car with their cloying fragrance. I bought out half the flower shop this morning, desperate to find something, anything, that might show her how sorry I am.
Boxes of gourmet chocolates, a cashmere sweater in the exact shade of green as her eyes, and a small velvet box containing a white gold necklace with a cherry blossom pendant sit among the flowers.
Her apartment building comes into view, and I park in the visitor’s spot, cutting the engine and taking a deep breath.
“Let’s go,” I say, not waiting for a response before getting out of the car.
The four of us must make quite a sight, each over six feet tall, built like the alpha werewolves we are, arms loaded with flowers and gift boxes. An older woman walking her dog gives us a wide berth as we pass, her eyes widening at the procession.
