Page 108 of Pack Frenzy
Because as much as I want this, wanting him feels like standing on glass…beautiful, but one wrong move and it all shatters.
If I let this happen, it stops being maybe. It becomes real.
And real has never stuck around for me. Not after Sabrina vanished. Not when Mom chose wine over her remaining daughter. Not when Dad buried himself at the office—or wherever the hell he actually goes—because looking at me reminded him of what he lost.
What if Rowan looks at me after and sees every flaw I’ve been hiding? What if he realizes I’m not worth the effort?
I swallow the thought, the fear, the want. All of it.
“Seriously,” I manage, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack my face. “Best pancakes ever.”
The lie tastes worse than any burnt pancake could.
He nods, and when I finish the last of the food and coffee, he takes the tray, leaving me alone.
I almost run after him—almost gamble everything on amaybe.
But the fear wins. It always does.
I press my palms against my eyes until colors burst behind them. This is what I do—find something good and burn it before it can burn me.
Sabrina used to laugh and call it my escape-hatch reflex.“Jess, not everyone’s going to disappear.”
But she did. And then everyone else followed.
What if they don’t want me, just an Omega who fits the slot in their pack dynamics? Any Omega would do. I’m just the one who happened to show up.
I spend the day in my room, unable to face any of them. Every time I hear footsteps in the hall, my body locks up. The knock doesn’t come.
Maybe they’re relieved I’m staying away. Maybe this morning confirmed what they suspected—I’m too much work for what I bring to the table.
When they tell me through my door that they’re going into town, I say I have a headache.
Cassian’s voice comes back muffled: “Need anything?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just need to sleep.”
The silence after feels like judgment. Or maybe that’s just the voice in my head of my mother after her third drink:Of course you’re alone. Who’d want to deal with you?”
Hours later, there’s a shuffle of something under my door.
I stare at it for a full minute before I can make myself move.
It’s a worn, used bookstore tote—the kind that’s been loved into softness—and several manga books from the series we watched at the movie theatre. Each one signed on the inside cover in three different handwritings.
Tell me what you think of the ending on Book 1 —Rowan
Figured you’d like this as much as you binged on popcorn during the movie —Cassian
The next volumes aren’t out yet, so you have to stick around. —Eli (with a tiny heart next to his name)
My throat burns. My eyes sting.
They went into town and thought of me. Not just one of them—all three. They could’ve given me space. Could’ve taken the hint that I’m pulling away and let me go.
Instead, they slid pieces of themselves under my door.
I push, and people let me go. That’s how it’s always gone. It’s cleaner that way. Hurts less when they inevitably leave.
