Page 120 of Claiming the Pack's Omega

“Why?”

“Nothing, really.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” he says, pulling off his sunglasses after he parks the car. I can feel his gaze burningholes into the side of my face with how intensely he’s staring at me.

“Now you’re the one who’s staring,” I huff, narrowing my eyes at him.

His jaw ticks as he returns my stare.

“I always seem to fuck up, with you, don’t I?” He says softly.

“Maybe you’re not fucking up with me, maybe you’re just fucking up in general,” I snap.

The moment the words leave my mouth, I feel a little bad. He really hasn’t been that bad this afternoon. A little broody, maybe, but not mean or cruel. I’m snapping at him like he just groped my ass at The Warehouse, or something.

Then I’m reminded of the way he was just going to leave Stone in the hospital, knowing exactly how he felt about them, and it snaps me back into that angry skepticism I seem to carry when it comes to him.

“You’re right, I have fucked up,” he says, nodding.

His seemingly sincere admission takes the wind right out of my sails again. The emotional whiplash I get from this man leaves me reeling whenever I interact with him.

His phone buzzes again and I see his eyes draw towards the notification. He curses under his breath.

“I have to keep this conversation short. There’s something at work that requires my attention,” he sighs, grabbing his phone from the mount on the center console and beginning to type away furiously.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll just go in myself, then?”

“Yes,” he says, continuing to stare down at his phone. “You just have to give them your name, everything is already taken care of.”

My hands clench into fists in my lap as I take a deep breath.

“Okay then.” My voice is harsh and combative, like it normally is when I talk to him, but I know deep down thatit’s to mask the insecurity I feel walking into that office alone. I seriously don’t remember the last time I went to the doctor. Maybe when I was a little kid?

Did I really want to go in there with him?

Yeah. Yeah, I did.

Even though I think he’s kind of a dick, as long as I’m in the bubble of his presence and not the one his anger is being aimed at, his dominance is honestly a little… comforting? Like, the devil you know, and all that.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and push open my door, but Killian wraps his hand gently around my wrist before I can leave.

“Wait," he says.

I inhale sharply at his touch, the buzz that travels along my arm making my head spin. Breathing in his expensive black tea scent doesn’t help with the rush I feel as I look over my shoulder at him.

“What?” I ask.

“Would you like me to come in with you?”

“You—you’d do that?”

“Yes, I can handle the shitshow the exact same from the waiting room of the office, though I may have to step out for a call.”

I should say no. I should say he can fuck off and do whatever work he’s got to get done that’s obviously ridiculously important to him, but I don’t.

I remember what Stone said about all of them and about how all of them work their asses off to bury their own past ghosts.

The thing is, you can’t bury ghosts. Trust me, I’d know. As much as they tell themselves that working themselves to the bone will get rid of whatever they’re dealing with, it won’t.