I like this pack. I don’t want this to end, and yet, here we are at the finale, and it’s time to say goodbye again.
“Hey, can you send in the cars?” I growl into the phone when someone answers. “God, send the cars and save me.”
“You're alive!” Meg cries out and pretends to sob.
“I won’t be for long.”
“Sure, you will. How did it go?”
I let out a long-suffering sigh. “It has been an effort in control and tolerance and not exploding in temper.”
“Aw, poor baby, do you need some TLC? Should I let your dad know you are getting too old for this life?”
“Oh, my god, don’t you dare; he will never let me hear the end of it. Just be a nice person and send the cars, you bitch.”
Meg laughs. “Kay, see you soon, princess.”
I hang up on her, exasperated all over again but relieved to hear her voice.
I turn and gasp when I find the four alphas I have been dodging so effectively right up in my space. Dakota reaches out and bracelets my wrist, tugging me into his chest.
“Bonnie, we want to talk to you,” he says in a hush.
“Really? Now? Don’t you have a job to finish?” I say the words bitterly and regret it immediately.
Vale’s eyes sharpen.
“You know, your merger,” I say with outward calm while, inside, I’m quaking. How do they make me so nervous? I’m not afraid of anyone or anything, but these four turn me into a bumbling omega catching her first alpha scent again.
“We have it handled,” Cyn says in a soft murmur.
“I’m so glad you guys came. Honestly. I am glad we got to know each other.”
“You are?” Rory asks.
“Of course, I hated the way we left things. Now we can go our separate ways peacefully. Like a chapter that’s closed.”
“I-” Vale starts to say, but he’s interrupted by a strangled scream.
I see movement beyond the pack and let out a cry as I lunge towards a very naked Rojer. His face is swollen, his eyes and lips puffy. He collapses to his knees, and I see that half his body is covered in bee stings.
“Oh, god, shit. What happened?” I shake my head. “Just lie down, try to keep breathing,” I say urgently.
His eyes are wide and terrified.
“Where’s your EpiPen?” I ask him, then twist around, looking at the frozen betas. “Call an ambulance. My phone is in my truck.”
He gurgles, and his eyes look around wildly. Whatever hope he had flares and fades as he remembers.
“Your pack?” I prompt.
He nods.
I turn, “Where’s his pack?” I ask Quincy, who vomits. We waste precious seconds while he struggles to stop.
“It disappeared at the cliffs, remember,” Cyn says. He can’t take his eyes off Rojer.
I whip around again, looking at the pack. “Does anyone have an EpiPen?”
