Her gray eyes flash to mine, brimming with an anger on my behalf I don’t deserve. For a heartbeat, I think she’ll ignore me and bulldoze ahead with the same unstoppable force she used to free me from custody.
Instead, she releases a slow breath, jaw clenched tight enough that a muscle jumps beneath her skin.
“Fine,” she tells Marcus. “We’ll collect his things.”
“Security will escort you.” Marcus signals to a uniformed man hovering near the front desk.
The security guard, built like a linebacker with hands the size of dinner plates, joins us. “Fourth floor, right?”
“Yeah,” I choke out.
The elevator ride passes in suffocating silence. Emily stands with her back to the wall, arms crossed over her chest, while the guard tracks my every move, ready for trouble that isn’t coming.
When the doors open, he gestures for me to exit first, staying close behind as I lead the way to my room.
Emily pauses at my door to glare at the big man. “Wait outside.”
He starts to protest, but for all his size and strength, her expression alone is enough to shut him down. “Five minutes. Door stays open.”
Inside, the room appears smaller than when I left it this morning. My few possessions are scattered across the surfaces, work clothes draped over a chair, toiletry bag open beside the sink, and a beaten-up eReader on the nightstand.
I pull my backpack from the closet. “I’m sorry about this.”
Emily doesn’t respond as she moves to gather my things from the bathroom.
I fold shirts on autopilot, the motions familiar from a lifetime of temporary stays. Pack tight. Leave nothing behind. Don’t get attached to places.
“You don’t have to help,” I tell her as gratitude washes through me.
“Faster this way.” She hands me my toothbrush and razor, wrapped in a washcloth.
We work in tandem, emptying drawers and checking under furniture. Within minutes, my entire life is once again contained in a single bag,zipped and ready for the next uncertain destination.
The security guard clears his throat from the doorway. “Time’s up.”
I hoist the backpack over my shoulder, giving the room one final sweep. Emily reaches past me to flip off the light, her hand brushing my arm in what might be comfort or accidental contact.
Either way, it’s the only warmth in a world that’s suddenly turned very cold.
The security guard escorts us back downstairs and straight to the exit.
The hotel’s automatic doors whoosh shut behind us with finality, leaving me stranded on the curb. Night has settled over Pinecrest now, the air cooler with a dampness that hints at fog rolling in later.
Emily stands beside me in silence, while passing headlights sweep over us in rhythmic intervals, illuminating her profile before returning us to shadow.
Across the street, a couple hurries past, the woman’s arm linked through her companion’s. They don’t look our way, but their quickened pace tells me they recognize me, the predatory Alpha from the viral videos, the monster who attacks Omegas.
A brittle laugh escapes me, nothing like my usual sound. “Guess that’s it, then. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to Misty Pines at all.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. I hadn’t planned to share this wounded thought, this fear that’s been growing since Derek’s fist connected with my nose, that my attempt at finding a new place to belong was doomed from the beginning.
Emily remains quiet beside me.
“Sorry.” I shift the weight of my bag, wincing as it brushes my bruised ribs. “You’ve done more than enough. I can find somewhere to crash tonight.”
I remember there’s a cheap motel near the industrial district that I found when I was initially looking for lodging, before I learned that the Misty Pines owners would put me up at the Fairwind. It might not care about violent Alphas. I could walk there in twenty minutes, if my legs cooperate.
The pills in my pocket might dull the physical pain, but nothing will ease the ache of knowing my reputation has been shredded, my job is likely gone, and my few belongings once again fit in a single bag.