Page 180 of Claiming the Pack's Omega

"That motherfucker—" Milo snarls, his voice breaking as he looks down at me. "He—he hurt you."

"He did," I nod. "But—but I let him, so it's?—"

"No," Milo snaps, interrupting me.

My mouth snaps shut. He's never used that kind of tone with me before. Frankly, I didn't know he was capable of it.

"Don't make excuses for him," Milo says, his brows drawing down. "I can see it in your eyes. You think what happened to youis your fault. It's not. It's just not. And I'm not going to argue with you about it."

I go back to staring at his chest as I purse my lips, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my words of protest locked away. Because I know he's right. I don't know why I feel the need to defend Max. Defend what he did to me.

Maybe because I don't like the helplessness around feeling like a victim.

"That stupid asshole has put Killian through hell and back their entire lives," Milo says, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. He guides my gaze back to his. "You'd never in a million years say that it was Killian's fault, what happened to him, even though the guy has gone back to his family time and time again to try and figure out whether he can make things work. Right?"

"Never," I say, shaking my head. "His family's fucking crazy."

"Exactly," Milo nods. "That's why it's not your fault?—"

I hear the click of a door opening behind us and freeze as Milo stiffens underneath me, his gaze darting over my shoulder.

"Well, well, well," Max says, his voice dripping with amusement.

I whirl around, my heart leaping up and into my throat. I feel phantom hands wrapped around my neck as I stare into Max's dark, almost beady-looking eyes. The dull green there looks so lifeless in comparison to Killian's.

"You were certainly the last person I expected my little brother to bring home," he chuckles.

Milo's arms around me tighten as he stiffens behind me.

Well, this fucking sucks. I glance around, trying to see if there's a way out, but unless we want to jump off the balcony and onto the backyard below, the door behind Max is the only way out.

"What—what the hell are you doing out here, Maximus?" Milo says. To my surprise, the waver in his voice sounds like it's coming from anger, not any sort of fear.

I squeeze his hand, trying to show him how grateful I am that he's here with me. I don't know how I'd react if I were alone with Max again. I'd probably freak the fuck out. Well, freak the fuck out more than I already am, that's for sure.

It makes my heart melt, the fact that soft and kind Milo is willing to bare his teeth at an alpha that easily has fifty pounds of muscle over him.

"Am I not allowed to go places in my own home?" Max laughs, extending his hand outward and gesturing to the mansion around us.

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it," Milo answers, his voice low.

"Oh, well if you're asking how I got away from all the commotion inside, it's because my mom has an excellent ability to keep all the attention on herself. Plus, my date seems to have that same skill."

There's a slight shake in Milo's next inhale after the mention of Angie Winters inside.

"So they're throwing a fucking fit," I mutter, narrowing my eyes at Max. I can practically hear the shrill screams through the balcony door.

"That's certainly one way of putting it," he chuckles. "There's that filthy mouth I know and love. I was surprised. You clean up well. If I didn't know you were a dirty Southside whore, I would've mistaken you for someone proud enough to be born here."

His words cut through me like a knife. Slicing through the paper-thin defense of this outfit that feels more and more performative by the second and straight through to my heart.

"Don't fucking talk about her like that," Milo snarls, shifting our bodies so I'm behind him.

It happens so fast that I can't stop him, considering the restrictive nature of the dress I'm wearing and the sky-high heels I have on. I settle for clinging to the back of his suit jacket. Milo can probably feel the way my hand is trembling.

Why can't I fucking shake this feeling? This terror? This crippling insecurity?

Why the hell does Max's opinion even fucking matter right now?