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“I’m not going to do that.” But he wants to. Even when Connor slides the phone away, his eyes track it like it holds universal secrets.

Dez steps between us. “We’re done for tonight. Everyone needs some rest before we can really hash this out.”

There’s squirming in my stomach. Discomfort. I don’t enjoy going to bed angry with my brothers. I already sleep like shit and that’s a surefire way for insomnia to creep in.

Then I realize I don’t care. I’m not going to be here anyway.

“Fine by me.”

Any other day, I’d laugh at the way Connor watches me warily, but I need this conversation to be over so I can get next door.

“I’m going to bed,” he finally says. He skirts past, but I catch his arm before he can get far.

In the pecking order of Pack Morgan’s hierarchy, I’m at the bottom. I’ve never cared about it. With my alpha instincts being latent for so long, it didn’t matter where I fell as long as I had my family. That hasn’t changed. I have no desire to challenge Connor for leadership, but this needs to be settled here and now.

Pack lead in hand, I don’t throw another punch, I throw a motherfucking gauntlet. “Let me make one thing clear, Con. If you need a punching bag, there are two in the garage. Keep the sparring—verbal or otherwise—away from our very fragile omega or I swear to god, I’ll cleave this pack in half.”

It’s not an empty threat, either. I won’t follow a pack lead that treats anyone the way Connor did tonight, and Dez won’t either. Whether he comes with me or goes his own way, my brother’s nightmares will finally come true. He’ll destroy this family for good.

Connor’s scent swirls, a dervish of anxiety. “You’re moving so fast.”

“So did you, once upon a time. I remember you talking about bonding Shelby the day you met.”

“That was different.”

“Only because you were on board then,” Dez says. “Now that things have gone sour, you’re pretending you don’t know exactly what this feels like.”

“I understand you’re scared, but Dez and I want Daphne. If you don’t, that’s fine. Just don’t ruin things for us.”

“Understood.” Connor’s voice is raw, expression stark. Looking more alone than he ever has. More beaten too, and I don’t just mean his face.

“Good.” I clap him on the shoulder, snatching my wallet and keys on my way to the door. “I’m going over.”

Dez frowns at the wall, body leaning toward it like he’s got that same sixth sense that I do. “She’s probably asleep by now.”

“She’s not.”

I can feel her frantic energy rising to a fever pitch. I need to get there before it crests or I’m not sure what will happen.

All the lights are off.

For a moment, I consider Daphne may truly be asleep, but that pounding in my chest only gets more restless. Pushing me to do something I probably shouldn’t.

Circling the house, I jump the short fence on our side of the yard to get into hers. Daph mentioned at dinner that our places mirror each other, so I have a vague idea of where the bedrooms are. I’ll just pop in and make sure she’s alright.

A pillow lies alone in the grass near the back deck. Swaths of fabric laying haphazardly across the wood. Clothes strewn in some unknown pattern.

One foot on the porch, I stop, head tilting as I try to decipher what the hell I’m seeing. The phantom scent of burnt sugar drives me forward and I snatch a ripped shirt off the ground. The one Daphne was wearing to dinner.

My fingers go numb, my tongue thick and dry as the implication of what I’m seeing finally lands.

She trashed her nest.The day after her heat, Daphnedestroyed her fucking nest.

Because of Connor. Because of a group of alphas who obviously didn’t treat her right. If I hadn’t already decked my brother, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Leaving the evidence of her anguish behind, I climb the side of the house. The brick is old enough that there are some handholds, though it’s not the easiest. The higher I get, the more on edge I am. My jaw’s so tight it aches, my vision narrowed to the inches in front of me and that phantom scent that’s getting worse. Until I realize Daphne’s left the window open, and it’s not phantom at all.

There is no torture more effective than the scent of my omega like this. Her distress pouring down my throat like poison as she sits utterly destroyed, alone in her home. My skin scrapes against the brick as I push harder, faster.