Track 24 Last Love Song

I stay with the Falcone pack for two more days before I head home. Sadie and Sylvie come with me, much to the dismay of their packs. Both the Werths and the Falcones wanted to accompany their omegas, but my friends put their foot down… er, feet down, saying I needed girl time. Davis protested that he'd be happy to do face masks and manicures with us, but Vee still told him no.

I'm pretty sure they only agreed because both packs have the woods around our three cabins wired with enough security cameras that they know if a chipmunk sneezes close by. And I'm fairly certain that they'll still follow us up the mountain, just at a reasonable distance.

Their devotion to my friends acts as both a balm to my wounded heart and also an irritant. I'll never have that.

We've been holed up in my little cabin for two days. The girls have only left me alone long enough to check on their cabins and on the rare occasion we all need to shower at the same time. The three of us sharing a single bathroom is a bit of a nightmare.

We spend our days lazing on the dock in the sun, swimming, talking about anything but the pack that broke my heart. Mostly we talk about Sylvie's upcoming bonding ceremony, and how Sadie and her guys have decided not to have one.

They tried to avoid the topic at first, not wanting to bring up any negative emotions after what I've just gone through, but I am genuinely happy for my friends. They deserve to be loved and cared for by packs that adore them. Once I expressed that, they loosened up a bit.

The time with them has helped so much, but I'm starting to feel antsy, anxious. I'm not used to being inactive, and that is what I've been for nearly a week now. Wallowing miserably.

My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen—unknown number—before silencing it and then navigating to block it. I don't have to listen to the inevitable message to know that I don't want whoever this is to call me again.

It's probably just one of the many, many threatening phone calls I've received since the break-up. It didn't take long for my name to be leaked on the internet. Twenty minutes later, my phone number was released. I think my address was out there too, but Ethan was quick to take down and obliterate any websites that shared the information.

I'm pretty sure he's under strict orders from Sadie to destroy anyone who shares my private information with anyone.

It doesn't seem to work all that well, though, seeing as the calls keep coming. Less than there were originally, but still enough to be disturbing. Both the Werth and Falcone packs offered to get me a new cell with a new number, but I haven't taken them up on it yet. I really should just turn my phone off. Get a new number maybe, but… well, I'm waiting for Gage to apologize.

I suppose if he couldn't get ahold of me, he'd just… show up. Hunt me down until he can apologize.

But I'm still hesitant.

Be honest, Sorrel. You're hoping that someday you'll unblock the Cordova pack and they'll reach out to you and tell you what idiots they've been. And that they still want you.

I snort at the ridiculousness of that hope. It's never going to happen. Ever.

I just have to accept it and move on.

And in the spirit of that thought… I need to get back to work.

Even if the idea of returning to flipping burgers after the promise of a life of relative leisure and creative pursuits with the Cordova pack, of never having to scrabble for enough money to pay bills or never needing to work if I didn't want to, makes my already tender heart even more tender.

I love my parents so much.. I know they loved me. But they saddled me with their dream rather than letting me find my own. I was almost there, almost able to spend my life writing songs. With the Cordova pack's funding behind me, I could have hired a manager for the Shack, more employees, people to run my parents' business so I could be relatively hands off.

I suppose that makes me what they accused me of, doesn't it?

I was pinning all my hopes for my future on them.

Though not only financially.

Hadn't I spent far too long imagining what our children would look like? How many we would have? How each of the pack members would be as fathers? How it would feel to be allowed to care for them, to love them. To be a part of a family again. I wanted so much more from them than just money and security. I didn't want a stitch of their celebrity. I just wanted them.

But they didn't want me.

They never will.

And that means I need to be realistic about my situation and my life going forward.

Which means going back to work.

The last thing I want to do is go to the Shack. Annie has reported similar abuse via the phones there, and I know I won't be able to block the calls. At least she says the customers are the same as always.

One thing you can depend on is for Lake Kilrose folks to not give a shit about what's happening outside of our little community.

But I have to make money. I have to work. I can't just stay curled up in my bed for the foreseeable future, even if I want to.

I have no other source of income now.

Someone figured out that Sorrel Forbes is SweetSymphony, and my little channel where I post videos of me playing songs has turned into a place for trolls to come and insult me, insult my music and my playing, insult my character. Tell me I deserve to die for how I treated their beloved Cordova pack.

The number of followers I had dwindled to basically nonexistent. Any of my sponsors to my channel pulled out.

It's so stupid that one mistake, one relationship gone wrong, one conversation overheard and misinterpreted has literally ruined my entire freaking life.

I have no other recourse but to stick things out at the Shack, to make it work. I suppose I could close it up or sell it, and try to find work elsewhere, but where the hell would I go? My face is internationally synonymous with ‘villain' now. With ‘liar'. With ‘whore.' No one would give me a freaking job, not even in Lake Kilrose.

Sure, they're willing to overlook it to have access to food at the lake, but I doubt they'll trust me ever again.

"I swear to fuck," Sadie says, practically throwing her cellphone across the room. "I'm going to hunt down every single fucker who says anything bad about you and skin them alive. Swift will help."

I chuckle and roll off my bed. Vee kicks out her sock covered foot at me. "Hey, where the hell do you think you're going?"

I stretch and catch a whiff of myself, wincing. I haven't showered since we returned home, and I can tell. Dips in the lake don't really cut it like hot water and soap. "I need to go open the Shack."

Sadie shakes her head. "No, you don't."

I pin her with a look, one brow arched. "I really do. Unlike the two of you, I don't have a pack to take care of me." I get the words out with nary a chin wobble. My eyes remain dry. I'm pretty sure I've cried out my entire lifetime's worth of tears and I've spent the last few days repeating the words, "I don't have a pack," to myself to become numb to the pain of it. It worked. Sort of. I'm at least able to hide the ache in my chest better.

"Sor," Vee sighs, shifting until she's kneeling on my bed that more closely resembles a nest. The effects of sharing it with two omegas who can't control their instincts to nest for comfort. I don't mind.

It just shows that they love me.

"You'll find someone."

I make a noncommittal sound in my throat and move to my closet to pull out a familiar white Snack Shack t-shirt and a pair of black high waisted jean shorts. "And in the meantime, I still have bills that need to be paid. And I need to eat."

"We can take care of the bills for you," Sadie says, moving closer to me as I add a clean bra and panties to my pile of clothes.

"You can't," I state simply, looking up and pinning my two best friends with a look. "I love you. You know I love you. And being able to wallow with you for the last few days has been perfect. Exactly what I needed." I glance around my bedroom. "It's made coming back here easier."

"But," Vee prompts and I take a deep breath.

"But," I say, fisting my hands at my side to give me strength. "I need to get back to a normal routine, to my normal life. The longer I lie here eating crap and moping, the harder it's going to be to move on. I have to… I have to freaking move on. The sooner I get back out there, the sooner people see the real me, that I'm not some psycho lying bitch, the sooner everyone can just forget about me." They exchange a look and I get the impression there's going to be some push back. "Also, I'm pretty sure if I keep either of you here any longer, your packs are going to join the crusade against me, and then I really will be alone."

"They wouldn't dare," Sylvie says, sounding… kind of scary, actually.

Sadie scowls at me. "As if we would let them do that."

I wave a hand and pick up a wide-toothed comb, pulling my hair over my shoulder to work out the tangles. "It was a joke." I pin both of them with a look. "I know how hard it is for you to be away from them. I don't want to keep you from your lives."

"You aren't, Sor," Vee lies through her teeth.

They've spent nearly every moment since I showed up at the Falcone penthouse with me. They haven't spent any alone time with their packs, and I know how hard that can be for an omega. And a pack.

"Please," I wince as the comb catches on a particularly hard knot. " I am . Now it's time for all of us to go back to our regularly scheduled program."

They glance at each other and then slowly nod. "Okay, Sor, if that's what you want."

I give a resolute nod. "It is."

Vee shifts forward and takes the comb from me, gently working out the tangle. "But you'll-"

"I'll let you know if I need anything, I promise. I think recent events have made it clear I'm not too proud to ask for help if I need it."

Another nod from the omegas, though they don't seem all that enthused to be leaving me. "I promise I'm fine," I reassure them again. "I know you need to get back to your packs."

Sadie scowls. "We don't need to."

"You practically cried this morning when you realized Logan's cardigan doesn't smell like him anymore."

Sadie slouches against my pillows with a huff. "That's easily remedied. He just has to send me more clothes."

"Or you could go cuddle up with your pack in your nest," I say in a wheedling tone. "Both of you." Vee arches her brows at me, but doesn't say anything, just keeps combing out my hair for me. I sigh again, folding my arms over my chest. "I'm strong enough to stand on my own."

In a second, they both have their arms wrapped around me. "Of course you are," Vee reassures me. "We didn't mean to imply you aren't."

"It's just hard to leave you here when we know you're hurting."

"I know," I murmur into their hair. "But I'll be fine."

"Fuck yeah, you will," Sadie agrees, pulling back and cupping my cheek. "I'm gonna have Ethan send you a new phone, one that only us and our alphas have the number. You can keep that one." She points at my old cell with an accusing finger. "Or toss it, but we'll contact you through the new one. Okay?"

I nod, knowing there's no arguing with her. "Okay."

She smiles at my easy acceptance, but it drops away when my phone rings again. Vee picks it up. "It says it's someone named Joey?"

"Ugh," I groan, tipping my head back. "Block him."

Vee does as I ask before looking at me. "Who is Joey?"

I shake my head and bundle up my stack of clothes before padding downstairs to my bathroom. "Liam's personal assistant, sort of." I'm still confused about what exactly his job is and who he works for. But it's not really any of my business anymore. "He never liked me, so it's probably just another one of those calls to tell me I'm a lying whore." I pause in the door of my bathroom and glance over at them. "Call your packs and let them know you're coming home. I'm taking a shower."

Thirty minutes later, Sadie and Sylvie are packed up and gone on their way back to the city. I'm clean and dressed and standing at my door with my hand on the knob, having a pep talk with myself.

"Business as usual," I mutter to myself. "Just pretend like the last few weeks didn't happen. You're back to BCP—Before Cordova Pack. This is just a normal Friday morning."

Nodding resolutely to myself, I yank open my door and step onto my porch, locking my door behind me. The mid-morning sun is already too warm, even filtered through the trees, so I know the lake will be packed by afternoon.

Hopefully, everyone will be too busy enjoying the weather and the water to pay much attention to me, the lowly burger slinger. As I make my way to my bike, I shoot off a text to Annie, letting her know I'm on my way to the restaurant. She responds with a thumbs up, and then I turn off my phone entirely, before tucking it into my mini cross body bag.

Awareness prickles against my skin as I bend over to unlock my bike chain from one of the front porch slats. A feeling of someone watching me, that has me glancing over my shoulder, searching between the trees for any sign of movement, but there is none.

I blow out a breath and shake my head. "Paranoid," I mutter to myself, even as I hurry to undo the lock.

"Too many death threats recently. No one is actually going to attack you," I keep trying to reassure myself that everything is fine. "No one even knows you're here. Ethan kept your address out of it."

I'm not in the habit of talking to myself, but in light of recent events, apparently I need to in order to feel safe. The lock comes free and I pull my bike up right before throwing my leg over it.

I glance around one more time, that feeling of being watched shivering over my skin. But again, there is nothing. Maybe I should drive instead of ride. It would make me feel safer.

I almost immediately dismiss the thought. Business as usual means riding my bike to work. It means taking the trails I know like the back of my hand. It means not letting the mess with the Cordova pack control my entire life.

I've cut ties with them. I've sent back all their gifts. Over the last few days, I've carefully, so fucking carefully, bundled up my emotions and hurt and anger and frustration, and tucked it all away. Now I need to claim back my life. Keep my chin raised and show the world that this will not break me. Hell, it won't even dent me.

Lies.

But maybe if I tell myself it enough, it'll be true. Manifestation at its finest.

As within, so without.

That's a thing, right?

With that thought in mind, I lift my chin and push my bike forward, placing my feet on the pedals with familiarity, and start toward my restaurant.

It feels really good. The lingering unease I'd felt at my cabin fades away entirely in the wake of exertion, and the beautiful scenery that feels like homecoming. Because it is. Lake Kilrose is my home. It will always be my home.

It was foolish to even consider moving to the city, leaving all this behind for a few pretty faces. As Elizabeth Bennet once said, what are men to rocks and mountains?

I would have never fit into their world.

I knew it going into the relationship. I would have never been comfortable in Granton. Would never have felt at home or at peace.

This is where I belong.

Nevermind that the feeling of homecoming is tinged with a deep sadness and dissatisfaction. This is my life. It will always be my life.

Another wave of unease sweeps over me, that feeling of being watched, this time accompanied by the faint sound of a motor rumbling. I risk a glance over my shoulder but see no one.

I'm alone.

I strain my ears over the thundering of my heart and my ragged breathing for the engine. Is it getting closer? Or moving farther away?

I squash the impulse to stop pedaling, to slow down in order to hear better. If someone is following me and they're on some kind of motorized vehicle, the last thing I want to do is stop.

Instead, I push harder, making my legs move faster. I know the trail and I know how fast I can go on it safely. I've never exactly sped down it, but I'm confident in my ability to remain seated over the rough terrain.

The engine cuts off or fades in the distance until I can no longer hear it, and I let out a breath, but I don't slow down.

That feeling of being watched, being followed intensifies, making me pedal harder, faster, bumping over the uneven trail, making my breath come in pants. I want to call someone, to let them know I'm being followed, but I also know I can't let go of the handlebars, not at this speed on these trails. If I reach for my phone, I will crash, and then whoever is behind me will get me.

What they'll do with me once they have me, I have no fucking clue. But I'm not in any hurry to find out.

With that thought, I push harder, go faster. Sweat beads on my brow and my heart is thundering. I'm minutes away from the Shack, minutes away from people and safety. Hope and elation swell and I let myself have a moment of victory. I'm going to make. I'm going to-

Too late.

Two things happen at once. The first is a freaking log is tossed into the middle of the trail, too close to my front tire for me to avoid. My brakes screech as I try to keep from hitting it, but it doesn't matter anyway because at the same time, a body lunges out from behind a tree.

Pain explodes in my chest, right across my sternum as some part of him collides with me, knocking me back off my bike and onto the dirt of the trail. My back hits a root. The air is knocked out of me and I can do nothing but writhe in pain and gasp for breath as footsteps thunder toward me. A moment later, a figure in all black, except for his face, covered by a white sheep mask, kneels next to me, head tilted as he observes me like a bug on a pin.

The sound of someone running reaches my ears and the man tenses for a moment, looking up before he relaxes. A second pair of black boots comes into view, a second mask, this one a pig.

"You drug her yet?"

"What-" I gasp out, lifting my hands to bat him away, kicking my feet to scramble back from them, but it doesn't help anything. Everything hurts and I don't make it far before rough hands grab me, drag me back. A body straddles me, pinning me to the ground.

"Oh, no, little beta." A low voice rumbles as a hand clamps down on my neck, squeezing tight enough to cut off my already meager air. "No running."

There's a pinch in the flesh of my arm and my mouth opens in a silent scream as I realize they've done it. They've drugged me.

"Shh," the voice says. "Just go to sleep."

I want to fight. I want to scream and scratch and howl. But my body goes slack, my muscles relax and my eyelids flutter. The hand at my neck releases and air rushes into my lungs, accompanied by black rushing into my mind.