Page 22 of Taken By the Pack

She cuts me off, arms folding over her chest. There’s that flash of agitation. It doesn’t make sense.

“My phone wouldn’t work due to the storm, Jake. What the fuck do you want me to say?”

I blink, the words hanging between us, harsh and jagged. She’s pissed. Really pissed. I’ve never seen this side of her and it freaking bothers me.

I swallow down whatever else is sitting in my throat. “No, that’s it. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I take the bottle from her, trying to think of something to say that won’t make this worse. But it’s like trying to force something into a broken mold.

“Why are you being so hostile with me?” I ask before I can stop myself, my voice quieter now. “What did I do?”

She glares at me for a moment before answering, voice tight with frustration. “I’m just so fucking tired of the Alphas in this town.”

Ouch. The words hit harder than I expected them to. My chest tightens, and I don’t know if it’s the sting of the insult or the jealousy that’s burning through me.

“Okay, then,” I say, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Whatever they did, I apologize for it.”

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s clearly in a mood.

“I’m sorry about your car,” I say as I start poking around under the hood. “Your engine seems fine.”

She watches me for a moment, then speaks again. “Okay, thanks. The shop won’t open today. I need… a day to recover.”

I nod, trying to hide the fact that her gruff attitude stings more than it should. “Okay, Grace.”

I move to step back, but hesitate. I want to touch her—just a hand on her arm, something to let her know I’m here.

The way her whole body tenses up as I pause and look at her makes me stop.

She flinches. Hard.

It hits me like a goddamn punch in the chest.

She doesn’t want me near her. I don’t even know what I was hoping for, but this wasn’t it.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “But if anything happens, you tell me, okay? You know where to find me.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes flicker, and I can see the tears waiting in them. But she doesn’t let them fall.

“I have to go, Jake.”

Her voice cracks just a little, and it fucking shatters me. I want to say something, anything to keep her here, but the words don’t come.

She turns, climbs into her car, and starts it up. The engine rumbles to life and I watch her pull away, the sound of her tires on the gravel echoing in the empty space between us.

I stand there, watching her disappear down the road, and I fucking hate it. I hate that she’s pulling away. I hate that I can’t stop her. And I fucking hate that I know she’s never going to pick me.

But she’s gone.

And I, completely in love with her, just watched her drive off.

I stand there, staring at the empty road, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. My hand rubs over my heart like it’s gonna fix whatever’s wrong inside me.

I hate coming to these jagged cliffs. It’s like the goddamn place is haunted by ghosts of all the shit I’ve lost.

The sea below crashes and swells like it’s trying to pull me in, but it’s not the water that has my chest in a vice. It’s the pain of remembering—of wishing I could’ve done something different that day.

The wind picks up, sharp and cold, and I rub my chest harder, almost like that’s gonna ease the ache. A couple of minutes pass.

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