Page 81 of Want It All

I stared at the words. My hair fell into my eyes, but I didn’t bother to push it back.

This was everything I’d wanted. I could make Sebastian’s dreams come true.

But this didn’t feel liketriumph.

I’d never been particularly affected by guilt before, but I’d gained this – the privilege of possible membership to the Revels – by manipulating Rose. Suddenly, that notion didn’t sit well, not when she was sleeping in my omega’s nest, not when she was Sebastian’s.

Not when she wasmine.

I’d used her attraction to Sebastian to bolster my own ambition before I’d really known her. It didn’t matter that she’d never been at risk, nor that I’d done it for Sebastian’s benefit.

Byron was right to hate me for it.

I pushed my glasses up my nose, swallowing.

Things had changed. Rose wasn’t just another student who happened to admire my omega. She was Sebastian’s scent match, and she waspack.

I had to fix this. I had to make amends.

I exhaled unsteadily. Byron’s past was his own business, but he’d let it hurt Rose. And if Rose was mine, then it was my responsibility to make sure she had everything she needed, always.

The omegas were my priority, even at the expense of my feelings.Especiallyat the expense of my feelings.

And even at the expense of my scent match.

They were my sun. They were mypack.

‘Sorry, Byron,’ I murmured to myself. My heart gave a heavy throb. I rubbed my free hand over it absently, trying to soothe the hurt, but it didn’t diminish.

I didn’t think it ever would.

I deleted the text from the Revels without another thought, then grabbed my laptop, bringing up the videos I’d saved so carefully.

I walked into the nest.

Rose was awake, cradled in Sebastian’s arms. Her face was puffy and her eyes were red.

‘Omega,’ I said, and fell to my knees next to the bed. ‘I have something to tell you, and then I have something to show you.’

Istaredatthelaptop screen, watching the videos for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

Do you know why you’re here?the APF psychologist asked, her voice made high by the small speakers.

Because I hurt someone, the dark-haired boy answered.

And why did you hurt him?

The boy’s shoulders bowed.Because he killed my sister.

He wasn’t a boy, not really, but at barely twenty, he wasn’t quite a man, either. The signs of grief were evident in his heavy eyes and tightly wound body. The skin over his knuckles was broken and red, occasionally weeping; he absently wiped up the blood with the bottom of his black shirt.

The boy in the videos hadn’t quite grown into his body, his limbs long and gangly. His hair was shorter, too, shaved at the back and sides. But the sense of power was there, an echo of the alpha Byron would become.

I closed the video and clicked into an article, one I’d already read, and already cried over.

Omega Killed by Drunk Alpha in Horrific Crash in Canberra’s South, the title said.

I didn’t read it again, just stared at the screen until the text became a grey blur.