“No,” he cuts me off. “No, you aren’t her anything. You rejected her, you understand? On international television. Yourpack rejected her and she is dealing with the consequences of that. The last thing she needs is you trying to soothe your guilt by checking on her, she's dealing with enough bullshit as it is. Call here again and expect to get a visit in the middle of the fucking night where I cut your dick off just like my girl said.”
I can tell by the sound of his voice that he means it. If I call Ren again he’ll find me. Doesn’t matter if I’m a member of the most protected pack in the world. He’ll find me and make me a eunuch. It might be worth it if I can just talk to her.
“I need her,” I whisper, but I know he hears it all. The pain and the longing and the fucking heartache. The regret.
There’s a long pause on the other side of the phone, during which I can hear Haven warning him from saying anything else. “Yeah, well she needs you too, but it’s not my call to make.”
The nape of my neck pricks, like this is important, even if he’s being vague as shit. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Not my story to tell.” Another pause. “But I have a question for you. What the fuck did you think would happen when your pack rejected yourscent match mate?” There’s a breathless pause, like he’s waiting to make sure I heard him, like he wants his words to sink in.
Then there’s the click of the line going dead before I can even begin to process an answer. My brain is too busy rolling over the little bits of information he fed me. Florence is dealing with the consequences of our rejection. The rejection that he says was a scent match rejection.
Afated materejection.
Fuck.
Fuck.
No.
My heart thunders in my chest and my finger tighten on my cell phone. I resist the urge to call back to demand if my dawningsuspicion is right. I need to find my pack. I need to tell them what I found out.
Because if what I think is true, our omega is sick and we’re the only cure.
Episode 4: Spinning Straw Into… Something
Florence
Things only get worse.
And worse. Andworse.
The alpha who assaulted me leaked where I work. So the bank becomes an absolute madhouse, with fans of the show from the area flocking in to barrage me with questions about the Royal Ashbourne pack and what it was like to be courted by them.
Every question, every eager look, every demand for an answer chips away at me.
And at my manager’s patience apparently.
“Things can’t keep going like this, Florence,” he says, but not unkindly.
“I know. I’m so sorry. I know it’s disruptive. But hopefully it’ll die down soon and things will go back to normal.” God, I hope that’s the case. I need things to be normal, at least at work, in my city.
Everything in my body is all fucked up.
His lips purse, just the slightest bit and I know… I just know I’m going to hate what he says next. “Unfortunately we can’t wait for that to happen, Miss Karlin. This is a financial institution and having a throng of non-members show up every day is a security risk. Having alphas approach your desk and demand dates from you is a security risk when you tell them no.” He holds up a hand to stop my protest. “And I’m not saying you should be saying yes to avoid that, but you can’t deny that it’s been a problem.”
I wince. It has been a problem.
But I don’t want to admit to anything. I don’t want to give him a reason to fire me. Or I suppose the correct term would be “let go” since I haven’t actually done anything wrong.
“You know I don’t encourage them or anyone. I’ve stayed off social media. I barely leave my house if I’m not coming here. I’ve done everything I can to mitigate the fallout from my time on the show.”
“I know, Florence. It just… isn’t enough.”
Isn’t enough. How many times has that phrase haunted me in my life? Enough. I am not enough. My efforts are not enough. My love is not enough. I am not enough.
“Please, Mr. Bahmer. I need this job. I can’t… With things the way they are I don’t think anyone else will hire me. I just… I can’t lose this job.”
