Jax's face falls. "Darren, we can explain?—"
"Save it." I cut him off, not interested in whatever excuse they've concocted this time. Probably that they all developed a spontaneous case of IBS. "I asked for one thing.One fucking thing.Just show up and be normal for a couple of hours. Was thatreallyso hard?"
"We're sorry," Aidan says, his freckled face a mask of genuine remorse. "We didn't mean to?—"
"Didn't mean to what? Disappear for ten fucking minutes in the middle of dinner? Make her feel like she wasn't welcome? Like she was intruding?" My voice rises with each question, and I don't care who hears. Let the whole restaurant know what assholes my packmates are. The only person whose opinion I care about is probably halfway across town by now. "Some fucking pack."
The hurt that flashes across their faces should satisfy me, but it doesn't. Nothing will except maybe catching Lexie before she's gone for good.
"Don't follow me," I growl, already turning toward the door. "I mean it. Stay the fuck away."
I don't wait for their response, just push through the door and break into a run once I hit the hallway. The elevator takes an eternity to arrive, each second stretching like taffy as I imagine Lexie getting further away. When it finally opens, I punch the lobby button repeatedly, as if that will make it move faster.
The ride down is torture. I check my phone again. No messages, no calls. Of course not. Why would she reach out after that disaster? I type out a quick text anyway.
DARREN: I’m so sorry about tonight. There's no excuse.
The message sends just as the elevator doors open. I sprint through the lobby, ignoring the startled looks from staff and guests. Outside, the night air hits me like a slap, cool against my overheated skin.
The parking lot stretches before me, a sea of gleaming vehicles under foggy lights. I scan frantically for any sign of Lexie. A flash of burgundy, the sound of a car door, anything.
Nothing.
Then, movement at the far end of the lot catches my eye. A car pulling out, turning toward the exit. I squint, trying to make out the driver, but it's too far away, the interior too dark.
"Lexie!" I shout, breaking into a run again. But it's useless. The car accelerates, red taillights disappearing down the exit ramp and into the night.
"Fuck!" I slam my palm against the nearest car, the impact sending a jolt of pain up my arm. Good. Physical pain is easier to process than whatever the hell is happening in my chest right now.
I stand there, breathing hard, watching the empty space where her car vanished. My phone remains silent in my hand. No response to my text. No indication she's even seen it.
This couldn't have gone worse if I'd planned it. The one woman who made me feel like myself again since this omega bullshit started, gone. Driven away by my pack's inexplicable behavior.
I trusted them. Despite everything, the awkwardness after my presentation, Zayn's constant needling, the way they all walk on eggshells around me, I still believed they'd come throughwhen it mattered. That they'd have my back in this like they always have on the ice.
Knowing that isn't the case is more than disappointing. It's gutting.
Maybe Zayn is right. Maybe I am delusional, thinking we can continue as a functioning pack with this new development. Thinking that things don't have to change just because my biology decided to pull the rug out from under me.
Maybe I've been fighting a losing battle all along.
I sink onto a nearby concrete barrier, the fight draining out of me as quickly as it came. The night stretches empty and cold around me, the city lights blurring as I stare at nothing.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and my heart leaps, but it's just Jax.
JAX: Where are you? We need to talk.
Fuck that.
I turn the phone off without responding. Whatever they have to say, I don't want to hear it. Not tonight. Maybe never.
The woodsmoke scent that's become my unwanted signature rises around me, stronger now that my emotions are running high. Another reminder of what I've become. Of what I've lost.
Of what I might never have again.
Chapter
Nineteen
