Page 42 of Pack Frenzy
Cassian’s nowhere in sight.
Maybe that’s for the best. My heart’s still stumbling from earlier, from the way he looked at me with those whiskey-colored eyes like he could read every thought I was trying to bury.
His lips hovered somewhere between a threat and a promise, the corners tilting like he knows he’s getting under my skin.
And that teasing—God, the way his voice went rough and sexy when he said my name, like he was tasting it. Like he knew exactly what it did to me.
I press a hand to my stomach, trying to settle the stupid little spark curling there—want, not heat, but my body refuses to get the memo. And completely inappropriate for someone who’s been here less than two days.
I shouldn’t want to find him. Shouldn’t want to ask him to finish what he started when his fingers traced my wrist.
But the thought curls in anyway—uninvited, relentless, dangerous.
A commercial breaks through the quiet, bright colors and practiced smiles lighting the screen.The Omega Institute: where Omegas are trained to be better.
My stomach knots.
The professional voice rolls on, warm and reassuring, promising programs and support systems and new beginnings.
God, my friends. Are they okay? Do they know I made it out, or do they think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere?
The questions pile in my throat until breathing hurts.
I could ask Rowan. He’s right here, close enough that I’d only have to take a few steps and speak, but the idea of facing another Alpha, of letting any of them see the ache I keep hidden, makes something in me twist.
Not fear exactly. Something deeper. More primal.
Just being in the same room as them makes me hyper-aware of every shift, every breath, every trace of scent in the air. That instinct I’ve spent years suppressing wakes up and stretches under my skin, restless and reaching toward them like roots seeking water. And that terrifies me more than almost anything the Institute ever did.
No. Better if I handle this myself. Better if I don’t owe them any more than I already do.
I glance down the hall to the one that ends at the office I’d glimpsed during yesterday’s house tour. The door is cracked open just enough to tempt me.
Inside waits the cherrywood desk, a sleek silver laptop, and the scent of Rowan…sandalwood and rain is everywhere.
My heart picks up again, but this time it’s different. Purposeful. I can do this. I can find out if my friends are okay, if there’s any trace of what happened to them. I can take one small piece of control back.
Before I can second-guess myself, before fear or guilt can talk me down, I move.
The screen wakes under my fingers, glowing pale blue in the dimness.
Password required.
Of course.
Rowan doesn’t seem like the type to use anything cute or sentimental, but desperation makes people stupid.
I try his last name. Denied. The team he was watching. Denied. Something simple—Eli. Still wrong. Damn it!
The box blinks red:One attempt remaining.
My breath catches in my throat, heart suddenly loud in my ears. One more wrong guess and the laptop locks. Maybe alerts him. Maybe ruins the only chance I have to?—
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But stopping feels worse than failing, and my friends’ faces are burned into my mind. Our whole lives, after we tested positive as Omegas, and skipping classes at the Omega Institute. The last night out together.
My finger hovers over the keyboard.
“Don’t.”
