Page 61 of Primal

Never again.

“Hi, Alpha,” she offers, voice quiet but steady.

Dropping into a nonthreatening squat in front of the table, I make myself small enough that Siggy has to look down to meet my eyes.

As shifters, our predestined designations govern our place in the social order. Omegas, with their naturally submissive instincts, are wired to show deference to alphas. Eye contact is one of the clearest tells. Most alphas take it as a challenge. She tries, but she can’t hold it for more than two seconds before her gaze darts away. Then she tries again. And again. It’s a loop I’ve seen too many times before. I’ve never been the kind of Alpha who finds power in forcing an omega to speak to my chest or the floor. I don’t need her submission to prove the weight of my dominance. It speaks for itself. But it’s clear Siggy’s been spending time around an alpha, or alphas, who didn’t share that belief.

“It’s really fucking good to see you, kiddo.” My voice breaks around the words, thick with too much emotion. Grief, guilt, relief. All of it. I swallow it down.

I don’t know what does it, if it’s the way I make myself smaller or the way the words come out sounding strangled and raw, but I feel it when it happens.

Her eyes.

Noa’s eyes finally find me.

It’s like taking a punch to the ribs and being thankful for the pain because you’re just delighted that you’re feelingsomething. Doesn’t matter if it hurts. Her gaze hits hard, and it makes something shift inside me. It’s like I’ve been holding my breath for five days without realizing it and I just inhaled for the first time.

I want to look at her, really look at her, but I don’t. I’m afraid if I meet her eyes, she’ll look away, and then what?

So, I keep my focus on Siggy, which feels right, anyway. She deserves that much. Deserves more than I can ever give her.

Her chin wobbles, lashes wet.

“They told me about Carly,” she whispers. My heart cracks again, splintering for her. But then she adds, even softer, more broken, “I didn’t mean to leave her behind, Alpha. I promise.”

Fuck.

Before I can offer her some comfort or tell her whatever she did to survive—to gethere—is not something that needs to be forgiven, by me or anyone, Noa moves.

She leans forward, slow and trembling, like every inch of her being is tender and bruised, but she still does it. Still reaches for Siggy’s hand and curls her delicate fingers around it. Squeezes, like she’s desperately trying to anchor the girl to something tangible.

“Love,” she says gently, and her voice is hoarse but clear. It’s like fucking music to my ears and a homing beacon for my wolf, calling him home. “You had no choice. I know you don’t believe that right now. But if you and Carly had switched places…would you blame her?”

Siggy barely gets the word out. “No.”

“Then you can’t blame yourself,” Noa says, her voice steady in a way her body isn’t. She’s pale, shaking, clearly still deep in the aftermath of what I did to her, but, somehow, she’s still managing to hold someone else together. Watching it breaks something open in me. Siggy looks at her like she’s her lifeline, the only person she can trust completely.

My throat works around a knot of emotion I can’t name as I speak, my voice quiet but steady. “Siggy…were you with Carly when…?”

I hate asking. Hate dragging her through this again. But I have to. Her mother will need answers.

Siggy’s eyes fly to Noa, her panic immediate. And just like that, Noa’s there again. Her free hand lifts, slowly as if making sure Siggy’s tracking every miniscule movement, before herquivering fingers brush the strands of dark blonde hair that were freed from Siggy’s ponytail by the wind. The gesture is so tender, it nearly undoes me.

“It’s up to you, Siggy,” Noa tells her, her hand lingering near Siggy’s ear after tucking a lock of hair behind it. “You get to decide how you tell him. If you want Canaan and Rhosyn to do it for you, that’s okay. If you’d rather wait and tell him when your mom’s with you, that’s okay too. No one’s going to push you either way. We’re moving at your pace, remember? This is all on your terms.”

My mate—something I don’t really have the right to call her anymore, but fuck, if it isn’t the truth—stands there, body trembling from the cold, and if the subtle winces she tries so hard to hide mean anything, pain too. And still, she chooses kindness.

And the fact I lied to her and told her that she wasn’t ever meant to be a Luna…

I already accepted yesterday that there’s nothing I can do to take it all back, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight like hell to make it right. Already, I’m brainstorming ideas for my next steps forward, but right now, as I watch her freely give the kind of comfort she deserves herself, I decide I also need to find a way to take her pain for myself. That this can’t stand.

I’d love to say that I’m going to be gentlemanly and give her a choice in the matter—it’s the least I could do since I’m the one who fucked up in the first place and she probably wants nothing to do with me—but I ignored my instincts once before when it came to her, and nothing has ever backfired more devastatingly. I’m not about to make that mistake twice. Everything inside of me is howling, demanding that I scoop her up and take her somewhere safe.She needs to build a nest. With things marked with my scent.My wolf approves of this, nudging me from thatspot where he stands over the waning thread, telling me I need to tend to her obvious sickness.

When I don’t move fast enough for his liking, my wolf lets out an impatient huff and throws his full weight behind the urge to reach her—our omega. The force of it slams into me like a body blow. To stop myself from landing face-first in the gravel and pine needles, I stand to my full height. The too fast movement has Siggy starting and at her distress, Noa’s two-toned gaze cuts to me in a sharp glare. It’s a look I find myself pleasantly thrilled to see on her face. Means she hasn’t lost all her fight. Not yet, anyway.

She turns her full attention back to Siggy who’s now staring up at me with wide eyes. “I don’t want to have to tell it twice.” Her hesitation in her voice, the flicker of vulnerability, is unmistakable. “Can I tell you what happened…to me, when my mom’s there too?”

The fact she feels like she needs to ask permissionfor something this simple…

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