Page 56 of Rejected Exile

Roarke grimaces. Turning his head, he lightly kisses my palm—then pulls away, leaving me with empty air all around me.

"You'll be better off in another pack, with another alpha," he vows, full-throated conviction in his voice. "Trust me, Delilah. Glass Pack shouldn't continue on, no matter what that means."

I gather my towel tight against my body and get up, staring at him with a mixture of emotions in my chest. "You really think that's better? Destroying the pack—letting it fall into another alpha's hands?"

"I know it's better." His mouth is a harsh line, his jaw tight with tension, those summer blue eyes of his cold and flinty. "I'm sorry, Delilah. Glass Pack's time must come to an end."

"I don't know what to say to that."

"Don't say anything." He shakes his head and combs his hair back with his fingers, glancing away from me. "Just know that I'm sorry for everything you've suffered, and I'll make sure that your suffering is over with soon. Whoever comes forward to take over the pack, I'll make sure that they leave a place for you among its members. You deserve better than what Glass Pack has given you."

As I'm standing there in the bathroom, a thousand thoughts in my head, he gives me one last pained look full of longing—then slips out the door and out into the hallway.

I suppose he didn't really need to say goodbye.

His words make it clear where his priorities lie.

He's going to destroy everything my father built. Everything our name stands for. And as much as I want to cheer him on, as revenge for my fourteen-year-old self if nothing else, I can't stop the lump of grief in my throat.

Some silly, childish part of me always wanted to believe that one day I would come home and be welcomed into the pack. That part of me gained new strength when I discovered what the scar in my neck really was.

But I can never be welcomed into Glass Pack if it ceases to exist.

Eighteen

Delilah

"It should be a relief, right?" I stare at Cat over my glass of wine, hating how miserable I feel. "This means my father's entire empire will crumble. Everything he built—gone. But it doesn't make it happy."

"Why should it?"

"Because of what he did to me. He exiled his own daughter to protect the pack, but it changed nothing. I should revel in that." I punctuate the sentence with a sip of wine.

Cat considers me for a long moment. "Maybe you're just mourning what you lost."

"What do you mean? I've lost nothing. I'm not even a member of the pack—I won't be until there's a new alpha and I convince them to re-enroll me."

I stare at my empty wine glass and hold in a sigh.

"You lost the potential for something, though." Getting up from the table, Cat paces over to the fridge, pulls out the bottle of wine we've been working on, and pours me a glass. She also tops off her own before settling back at the table opposite me. "Until today, you could genuinely believe that it was possible to be a member of your father's pack again, especially once you get that chip out of your neck. If the pack is subsumed by another, that hope goes away."

My fingers reach up to scratch at the scar, and it's only Cat's narrow-eyed glare that makes me pull them away. "I'm afraid it's worse than that."

Her brows draw together. "What do you mean?"

"There's a little part of me that..." I have to close my eyes because I can't quite admit this while meeting her gaze. "There's a little part of me that still thinks if I just do or say the right thing, Kieran will accept me as his mate."

"Oh honey." I feel Cat's hands gently cover mine. "We all have those little voices inside our heads that tell us the impossible is possible. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

I peel my eyes open. Somehow the pure sympathy in her expression is harder to face up to than scorn would be. "It's stupid, though. And it isn't doing me any good."

"That's true. But can I ask that you do something for me?"

Her sudden request startles me. "What?"

"Forgive yourself." Those two words are spoken so succinctly, but they carry so much weight for me. "There's nothing wrong with a hopeless fantasy. Just as long as you recognize it, let go, and move on."

I swallow, staring down at the spot where our hands meet. My fingers feel restless, so I grab the wine glass and down a sip from Cat's fresh pour.

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