Chapter 12

12

E verything Cav had thought true…

Everything he'd held fashioned together with a fading memory and a broken heart—brimming with the anger, resentment, disgust, and sorrow which had long defined him—it all crumbled underneath his feet, leaving behind a vacuous emptiness he did not know how to fill. His instincts roared to drag Wynter into his arms, to refill that pit inside his soul with the omega who'd forsaken him all those years ago. There was no denying Wynter appeared to be struggling even more than he, and if the story was indeed accurate, his mate had truly endured hell.

Decades of it.

But how could he trust the revision of a history from the mouth of a man who'd lied countless times before? Instinct whispered it was the truth, yet wisdom went out the window when it came to Wynter Jaymes. Even through the animosity he'd harbored, at the base of it was love, a love that was willing to forego anything to have his mate at his side. Cav sat staring for long minutes, silently searching for an anchor within to clutch upon in the raging tempest before he made a monumental mistake he'd not be able to extract himself from.

He'd sought answers to the events of that week and the fire that followed for decades. Nothing he'd turned up in his research had made any sense. There was a file in his satchel back at Wilder's house with what little he'd been able to dig up over the years. It wasn't much. He'd hit dead end after dead end with documents missing, redacted, or destroyed. Witnesses had been dead or claimed memory loss. For the first time, he sensed he'd learned the truth of things.

It explained so much, yet still left answers behind—Wynter's papa being at the forefront of his mind. Was the omega truly a monster or a fictional villain, saddled with the deceptions Wynter was unable to confront and take responsibility for?

Cav had been made to look the fool too many times as it was. He wasn't prepared to jump in and say all would be forgiven. He swallowed a sob, his inner alpha demanding he give in and open his arms, regardless of if it were lies or not. To finally have his omega, all to himself, was the only thing he'd ever wanted. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, and his had long been given to Wynter. He'd hated himself for that for far too long and wouldn't compound his pain by being a lovestruck fool.

Wynter's face was coated with tears. He'd seemed to have given up wiping them away midway through the story, as it was a losing battle. His omega appeared shattered by the events—and shattered again to relive them, that seemed clear. Cavanaugh's hands itched to drag the man into his arms and offer comfort, but the pain yawning between them made him clench them into fists at his sides instead.

"The next time, when I saw you was at the signing a few years later," Wynter added after the silence grew too fraught with their shared torment. "I was elated to see you were alive and well, but at the same time terrified you wouldn't remain so after seeing me."

"Alive maybe, but I wasn't well. I think you realized that."

Instead of admitting he had, Wynter diverted his gaze, staring instead at a threadbare handkerchief which had clearly seen better days. He tugged it between his narrow hands, as if testing its ability to withstand the torment, or perhaps testing his own. Cav's gaze washed over the stark lines on Wynter's face the pain had formed. It took nothing away from his beauty, yet added a sharpness etched upon his soul.

"I haven't been well in over thirty years, Wynter." In the grand scheme of things, perhaps his woes were insignificant to what his mate had endured, yet he needed Wynter to acknowledge the pain caused.

Wynter sniffled. "Nor have I. I've ached for you for over half of my life."

The admission was more painful than it should've been. He searched Wynter's face, cast down at that damned handkerchief. Finally, Wynter lifted his gaze and was immediately captured in Cav's stare.

"Knowing you were out in the world, living some big adventure without me at your side?" Wynter's face twisted with pain. "It broke me. I loved reading of your exploits all while shattered that I wasn't there with you, celebrating your successes or holding you through the dark moments."

"But you were there," Cav whispered. "Every step of the way. You were never far from my thoughts. Every place I stopped, I wondered ‘what would Wynter have thought about this or that.' I dreamt of you there with me, of the fights we'd have over me hauling your luggage across the globe or your inability to tip the porter."

Tears shone in Wynter's eyes. He snorted. "Who said I don't tip porters?"

"You never tipped ours."

"At the end, my dear… but we never made it to the end, did we?"

While the question had been directed on their train travel, it could also be asked for their life and all its interruptions. "Has the end come and gone already?" Cav asked.

Wynter searched his face, eyes widening some. "I don't know. Has it?"

Even through their pain, heat blossomed. An undying need pulled them closer—a need that would never be sated—and the yearning burned away some of the cold within. It demanded Cav protect and comfort his mate. His reluctance only made it roar louder in his ears, but he fought the doubt screaming just as loudly. Parts of him hated that the desire still remained. He'd tried to drink it away. He'd slaked his lusts in the bodies of other men, hoping to find one who would hold his attentions long enough to make his errant thoughts disappear. Thoughts of a life diminished and a love ripped from his very fingers.

But it had been all for naught. His singular focus on Wynter Jaymes had still been there, pulsing like a sore tooth within. No one had been able to capture what had been given away so long ago.

"Why didn't you tell me? When you saw me again?"

"Don't you think I considered it?"

"I could've intervened. Perhaps found a way to spirit you and the children away. We could have run."

Wynter shook his head. "For years, I'd wondered if there was a way out for us. I played it over and over in my head, but no scenario ever ensured all our safety to the point I was willing to chance it."

"Two minds are better than one. I might've found a way you had never imagined."

"And all I could imagine was you learning the truth and playing the hero—and ending up dead in the process. The thought of causing your death made me physically ill, Cavanaugh. I was terrified to tempt fate and lose you. If you lived… there was always a chance."

"A chance? A chance for what?"

Wynter shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps too much time and pain has been shared for a chance to still exist now."

Cavanaugh almost asked the question again. A chance for what? He knew the answer. His heart, mind, and soul screamed it at full volume—but he needed to hear it come from his omega's lips. He had to know, for certain, that Wynter wanted just as badly.

But the admission never came.

Cavanaugh leaned his elbows on his knees. "It's hard to reconcile all you've just told me."

Wynter pursed his lips. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I didn't say that—but it's a lot to digest." Cav shook his head. "I've been so angry for so many years. Not at you as much as what you did to us. For the hell I went through, thinking you were dead. For going back to him. Choosing him over me."

"There was no choice. If there had been, it would've been you. No one but you." Wynter's breathing shuddered. "I didn't want to cause you pain—but pain seemed better than death," Wynter whispered. "I can't say for certain that you were in real danger, but what I saw and heard that day…" He released another slow, shaky breath. "I could only assume my papa would harm you to get his way. The demented light in his eyes as he made his accusations—he wasn't well. I didn't know what he might be capable of. I had no idea if they'd even shot you or not. For all I knew, it was a ruse." Wynter paused a moment, his chin tremulous. "But the body…" He gasped. "I saw the dead body outside, ready to be my stand-in, and knew someone there had likely caused it. If they could kill that omega, then they were capable of killing you, too. That was enough for me to play along and do what he demanded of me."

Cavanaugh lowered his head, sliding his hands through his hair—where he felt the scar from the bullet that clipped him all those years ago. "I was shot."

Wynter whimpered, a fresh batch of tears shining in his eyes.

"It came close enough to knock me out but not enough to cause any real damage. Just a scar." He trailed his fingertips over the scar again. "I woke up freezing, in a small pile of blood. I was on a bed of pine needles with a cloth wrapped around my head, so I knew someone had been there. At first, I thought it was you and you'd gone looking for help. Then I saw the black smoke in the distance. I forced myself up and stumbled to the cabin. By the time I made it back, it had nearly burned to the ground already. The Guard and Fire Brigade were there. I showed up just in time to find your body—" He scoffed, fighting his own tears. "What I thought was your body—in a body bag there."

Wynter pressed a hand to his lips, eyes bright with unshed tears. After a few seconds, he lowered it, returning to the tugging of the handkerchief. "I can't imagine how you felt seeing that. I'm sorry," Wynter said, his tone barely above a whisper. "I know what you went through was hell… but the alternative… I couldn't stomach that. Knowing you were alive… that was the only thing that kept me going most days." Wynter stretched slightly, wincing as if he were in pain. "When I saw your book in a bookstore a few years later, I was so relieved. Proof of life. I read it, my heart breaking, yet happy knowing you lived. You were traveling again, healing yourself. You'd moved on with your life. Without me."

"You know full well I didn't."

"But that's what you wrote in your book, and at the time, I believed that. It broke me, but I believed it and I told myself I was happy for you. Not that I wasn't, I was. I was happy for you, but it was hard to envision your life without me in it." Wynter smiled wryly. "You'd lost your omega but found new purpose amid your adventures. That's all I'd ever wanted for you."

"I traveled. And I tried to forget about you. I failed in that endeavor, and I wrote a book about it. My editor removed the darker stuff, like the Guard initially thinking I'd murdered you, or the subsequent breakdown followed by a four-month stay in an asylum. While I personally think it was a riveting story, the publisher said it would never sell. Readers want lighthearted escapism or a feel-good story. Not a dark, twisted manifesto about loss and the inability to heal."

Wynter's eyes were wide when he looked back up. "I had no idea," Wynter whispered. "I knew it wouldn't be easy, but we'd not been together long—I had hoped you'd find a way through and forget me."

"Did you, Wynter? Did you find a way through and forget?"

"No," Wynter replied. "Of course I didn't."

"Then how could you imagine I would?"

"You were free. I was stuck in this prison of circumstance, not you. I thought… I thought you might have a chance, and I wanted that for you. Maybe I was naive but I did think you could move on."

Cav closed his eyes, knowing they'd both been imprisoned by misfortune. He might have some semblance of freedom, but it was a lie, at best. "I've been stuck in that same moment since it happened. Reliving it in my dreams and nightmares. My life had no meaning without you in it."

Wynter sobbed. "I had to put on a mask and pretend all was sunshine and rainbows, all while I was shattered to pieces on the inside. I was an empty shell. I moved about like a puppet, dancing and performing to the best of my ability to keep you alive. In time, it did get a little easier. Muscle memory, to some degree, I guess. You do a thing enough times and it becomes routine. Slap on enough smiles. Pretend you had not a care in the world. Perform to your utmost ability and make the entire world believe you to be someone you're not all while you were dead and cold on the inside." Wynter chuckled. "All the warmth and light departed when I walked away from you. I've never known true happiness since."

Cav held Wynter's gaze, aching within. He'd not known true happiness since that moment, either. Everything seemed pale compared to what should've been.

"You had me hooked, mind, body, and soul. One heat and I was completely yours." Cavanaugh sighed. "I'm not sure how I could've had that strong of a reaction over a man I'd known for a week, but I did. The idea of going on without my omega didn't seem possible." He stretched the fists clenched at his sides, the fingers aching from the tightness. "Once the doctors got my head straight, I immediately left the Palatinate for another world tour. You were gone. The cabin where I'd claimed you was gone. Trout was gone, too. I had nowhere else to go, but travel. I bought a duffle and whatever I might need to fill it, and jumped on a freighter headed for Europa. Then I hit nearly every continent. It took me three years, journalling the whole way."

"Wait… Trout was gone?"

"He supposedly died trying to rescue you— or whoever it was —in that cabin."

Wynter gasped. "Oh gods…"

"Who was in the cabin, Wynter?"

Wynter shrugged. "Like I said, my papa claimed he was a distant relative who was gravely ill. Other than that, I don't know."

"No name? Nothing?"

"None."

"He died for you—or rather, your papa's plan—and you didn't even bother learning his name?" Cav asked.

"I was in shock!" Wynter argued gently. "After I returned to Alexandria, I never spoke to my papa or father again. I couldn't stomach the thought of seeing either of their faces, so how would I know anything more than Papa told me that day?"

Silence hung between them.

"You said… that they initially thought you'd murdered that omega?" Wynter asked, frowning.

"They did, but I was never questioned while I was at the facility. By the time I was released, I was informed I'd been cleared of any charges," Cav said. "At the time, I took it for a blessing and got the hell out of Blacksburg without question. I didn't have the mental fortitude to dig at that point. All I knew was I couldn't be there, haunted by your memory."

"I never wanted that for you. I just wanted you breathing." Wynter inhaled and released it slowly.

"Breathing wasn't easy. The pain of losing you only intensified after I learned you were still alive." He shook his head. "Although, some of that pain did transform into rage once I realized you'd faked your death to get away from me."

Tears shone in Wynter's gaze. "But I didn't. I never wanted to leave you."

"But you did leave me, and I mourned you up to the point I saw you again. I'll never forget the day I looked up and saw the face of a ghost," Cav said. "And you shattered me a second time, realizing you'd been walking the same earth as I had all that time."

Wynter sobbed. "I didn't know about the book tour or that you'd be there that day. I'd never have come had I known."

"You could've told me all this then," Cav murmured. "You could've made things easier, but no, you compounded the pain and said those vile things to me."

"I didn't want you to go, Cavanaugh. I wanted to slide into your arms and never let go again… but I was terrified you'd be dead if I did. My only choice was to push you away and make sure you never came back for me. I had to lie… and say things to make you hate me. Otherwise…" Wynter shook his head. "I don't want to think about otherwise."

Cav replayed the events of that fateful couple of days. The second time Wynter Jaymes ripped his heart out.

Five years after the supposed death of Wynter Jaymes…

"Your book has helped me so much. The way you describe your grief, it really spoke to me. I lost my omega a couple of years ago, and it's been so difficult to navigate this new life," the alpha facing his table said.

"I'm glad this offered you something of value." Cavanaugh penned an inscription inside the front cover and handed it back, forcing another smile. His face hurt from all the forced smiles—weeks of them, in fact. He'd attempted to get out of a book tour, but his agent and editor had ganged up on him and demanded he go. His publisher was footing the bill, sure they had another bestseller on their hands.

Sales trends proved they might be right. One month out and he'd already landed on two bestseller lists—one in the Palatinate and another in Europa.

"I lived vicariously through your travels. Hearing your story… I just remember thinking, if he made it through, I can, too."

Nowhere near through. The book's a big, fucking lie. "Of course you can. Anything's possible with the right mindset."

The alpha smiled, waved, departed, and a beta took his place, sliding a copy of Cavanaugh's bestselling novel down. "This changed my life. Can you sign it with one of your most memorable quotes from the book?"

It's barely my words anymore. How the fuck do I know what's inside? "Sure thing."

He penned one of the quotes his publisher had pulled from it for marketing—amazed he'd remembered it—added his signature and slid the book back. "Thanks for coming out today."

As the alpha departed, Cav eyed the never-ending line of readers waiting to get their moment with him. He knew he should be excited that anyone had showed up at all, but it was hard to feel much of anything, especially when the book barely resembled what he'd originally written. He felt like a fraud and a hack… especially when so many seemed to have found some sense of enlightenment from it.

All while he still faltered, unable to emerge from the shadows of the past.

Another book was slid in front of him. "This book changed my life…"

Cav slapped a smile on his face, the muscles there already growing sore. An hour passed, well past what was supposed to be the end of his signing. Cavanaugh sipped from his water bottle that wasn't water, slowly getting more and more drunk as the day passed. His agent and editor frantically worked to wind down the line so he could get the fuck out of there before he lost his shit—they knew what might be coming if he didn't get out of there within a reasonable time limit. His nerves could only handle so much.

They were nearing the midway point of the tour, and they'd already seen him at his absolute worst. Province to province to province, signing until his wrist hurt, his jaw ached, his liver screamed—and a few times, he showed them the monster within.

Gregory, his agent, meandered closer to his table as he was wrapping up with the last reader of the day. When he was finally free, Cav stretched his arms over his head and leaned back in the chair. "Next book—no signings. I'm done with this crap."

"Your readers deserve a chance to meet their favorite author," Gregory said. "It's good for sales." He looked Cav up and down. "You're contractually obligated to finish this book tour, by the way. Don't fuck this up for us—or I'll fire you as my client."

Cavanaugh saw the hint of humor in Gregory's eyes, but also sensed he best not push the guy too far. "I said next book," Cavanaugh muttered before draining the rest of his bottle. "I know I have to finish this bullshit parade."

Gregory grabbed the empty bottle and sniffed. "How much of this was actual water?"

"All of it," Cavanaugh lied, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Cav, you look like shit. I can smell the alcohol coming off your body. That crap might fly out in the wilds, but here, you need to clean yourself up. Cut the drinking. Get a haircut. And sleep more than two or three hours at night."

"Who said I wasn't sleeping?" No point in arguing the rest. He had a mirror in every fucking hotel room he'd stayed in over the course of the tour that reminded him, not that he looked very long. It was too difficult to see what he'd become—a shell of the man he'd once seen.

"I get incoherent emails at all hours of the day and night, so I can only assume you might get a few hours here and there. At least I hope you do."

He'd not had a decent night's sleep since before Wynter's heat. "Inspiration strikes whenever. Time doesn't matter amid the chaos of writing."

"You're writing something new?"

Cav scoffed. He'd not written much of anything since they'd dissected his last attempt and sewn in back together like some bright and shiny thing of beauty. If his words couldn't be ugly, maybe that's why he had to be.

"Cav…"

Cavanaugh lifted his gaze.

"You're not selling readers a book, you're selling them hope. You're saying you've overcome grief through all this amazing travel, and then you show up looking like a fucking mess."

He scoffed. "As you well know, I didn't write that piece of crap they're selling and I am a fucking mess. The publisher might want to sell a lie, but I can't."

"Maybe we should cancel the rest of the book tour."

"Be my guest," Cav said.

"That's exactly what he wants us to do," his editor, Marlo, said, sidling up beside Cavanaugh. He tossed his too-long dark brown locks over one shoulder and glared at Cav. Only there wasn't anger there. Cavanaugh stiffened, ignoring the longing look in his editor's eyes. He sensed Marlo saw that reluctance, and things only grew more awkward. Marlo looked away, his back to Cav.

One drunken night early in the editing and rewriting process, he'd made a foolish mistake. In his grief, those pining gazes had felt like shelter in the storm. It was only by the full light of day he'd realized his error in judgement. He had nothing to give anyone. A man he'd considered a friend and confidante deserved more than nothing.

Marlo was a good man and shouldn't crave a dead one walking.

"Don't let him off the hook." Marlo said to Gregory, his voice tinged with disappointment as he sat on the corner of the table, head slumping. He barely looked over his shoulder at Cav. "Get your shit together, man."

"It's as together as it's ever gonna be."

"You have a book to sell to the public," Marlo said, avoiding Cav's gaze.

"Maybe you should be signing these books, Marlo." He slid an extra copy toward his editor. "You're the one who stitched this word salad together."

"You're the one who asked me to do it," Marlo shot back. "Don't make me regret it more than I already do."

Cavanaugh lifted his gaze to Marlo, not remembering asking his editor to completely rewrite his book, but hell, as drunk as he often was, maybe he had. After that night together, he would've done just about anything to put distance between them. He lifted his gaze to offer some sliver of an apology to Marlo when a flash of long, silver-blond hair caught his attention. Since the best— and worst —week of his life, when he saw long, platinum hair, it called to him. Every single time. Years had passed and he'd still look up, as if he might find Wynter still alive, walking toward him with a knowing smile, ready to start their journey together.

He searched the face attached to that hair, ready to once again prove to himself that Wynter was gone, but…

Only…

Cav rose from his chair and craned his neck, narrowing his eyes. It can't be.

"Cav? Have you ever…"

Cav had no idea what Gregory was saying, not when Wynter Jaymes walked in his direction, looking down and speaking to a dark-haired child in his grip. Expensive-looking fabric billowed around him, his hair braided to perfection and thick golden cuffs on either wrist. He lifted his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. Cav's heart shattered. He scrubbed his face, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him.

I've got to stop drinking…

When he lifted his hands away, his omega's face was even clearer. It was Wynter. He saw that face every night in his dreams. No way would he forget it. He stumbled around the table, nearly falling over.

"Cav?"

Cavanaugh plodded closer to that platinum hair, the light bouncing off it from the overhead fluorescents creating a halo effect—or maybe that was his drunken eyesight. He knew he had to be dreaming. He needed a better look to stop his head from spinning. As he neared, the omega lifted his gaze.

Blue eyes.

Just the right shade.

Wide-eyed with what could only be terror.

Wynter Jaymes stood frozen, just as Cav had seconds before. Ten feet apart, they held one another's gaze. A shine of tears appeared in Wynter's eyes.

"Wynter?"

Wynter's lips opened and closed, but no words came.

"Papa?" the little omega clutching Wynter's hand asked, looking between them with a small, tight frown.

Cav searched the child's expression but saw nothing of Wynter there. Was that the face of the alpha who'd stolen everything from them looking back at him?

The air thinned, making it harder for Cav to breathe. He turned to pin Wynter with a glare.

What. The. Hell?

Wynter sputtered a few times before he spun and raced off, pulling the tiny, dark-haired child behind him.

Time slowed. Cav remained rooted to the spot for a few seconds, sure he was going insane again—until the adrenaline pulsing in his veins sobered him some. His feet moved before his brain caught up. Seconds later, he ran, tailing the long, silver-blond head bouncing ahead. When he clambered out of the bookstore and into the sun, he winced at the light abusing his eyes, but still he pushed on, unwilling to lose sight of the nightmare made flesh in front of him. A nearby passing car nearly plowed into him as he stumbled into the parking lot. He narrowly missed one disaster before walking in front of another car.

Horns blazed and people screamed—yet Cav barely noticed any of it. He pushed forward, following the platinum trail until he caught up with his omega.

His omega.

Alive.

How is he alive?

Cav stopped beside Wynter as the omega frantically urged the child into the back of a limo, ignoring his presence. Before his omega could escape, he snagged Wynter by the wrist and spun him, sure he was seeing things.

Sure a different face would appear.

Only it didn't.

Wynter stared back, tears swimming in his eyes.

Pain slammed into Cav, bile rising as his head throbbed painfully. "Wynter?" He reached out, caressing the face that haunted his dreams. "You're alive?"

He dragged his omega into his arms, the initial elation the only thing on his mind. Yet Wynter pushed him away.

Cav frowned, confused. Why was his omega pushing him away?

A tear slid from the corner of Wynter's eye. "You have to let me go, Cavanaugh. Please." Wynter scanned the parking lot, his breath coming in gasps. "Just walk away and forget you saw me."

Cav shook his head, wishing he'd not had so much to drink. "I just found you again." His emotions were all over the place, pinging from one to the other within seconds. Confusion took over. "Let you go? I'm not letting you go. Not without some fucking answers."

"I'm so sorry, sir," Marlo's voice rang out somewhere close. Cav didn't take his gaze off the ghost in front of him to check. "He's not been himself today." Marlo wrapped an arm around Cav and glared up. "Let the nice omega go, Cav."

Gregory arrived on Cav's other side, urging him back. "Hey, Cav—let's go inside before we make a bigger scene out here than you already have."

Cav yanked out of their grip and stepped a few inches closer to Wynter, ignoring his entourage. He slid his body along Wynter's, needing to be sure it was flesh and blood there. "Why did you let me think you were dead all these years?"

Wynter trembled against him.

"This isn't Wynter," Gregory murmured. "Wynter's gone. Remember?"

"No," Cav screamed, glancing at Gregory before turning back to Wynter. "Gregory, Marlo—meet Wynter Fucking Jaymes." Cav released Wynter's wrist, bile rising in his throat once more. "Care to explain? You know I love a good story. This one must be a doozy."

"I'm sorry, Cav," Wynter muttered, another tear sliding down his face.

Cav fought the urge to wipe those tears. Instinct roared within—the need to protect the very man who'd broken him. "Save the godsdamned tears!" Cavanaugh roared and regretted it when he saw Wynter flinch. Fuck his regret. He needed to understand what was happening and his mind was too pickled to think straight. "Why did you do this to me? To us?"

Wynter fought more tears, and it broke Cavanaugh to see it. He dragged his omega into his arms again. "You're alive. Fuck… I'm so godsdamned mad at you right now, so why am I so fucking happy to see you?" Tears blurred his vision as he held his omega tight.

Wynter was alive. He hugged harder, unwilling to let go.

It was then that he realized that Wynter… was pregnant.

His omega pushed him away.

Cav let go but pressed against that belly, moving the flowing fabric hiding it out of the way. His gut knotted with pain. "You're having another baby… with him?"

Wynter looked away, lower lip trembling. He wiped at his face but said nothing.

"Does he still shove your head into the mattress when he forces you down to rut inside you?" Cav asked, cold bitterness replacing the years of sorrow and grief that had filled him for too long. "I would've shown you nothing but love… but you left me. For him." Marlo and Gregory tried to hold him back, but Cav wouldn't be stilled. "Who's body was that, Wynter? If it wasn't you, who died in my fucking cabin?"

Wynter flinched again. "I don't know," he whispered.

"Bullshit," Cav slurred.

Wynter looked around the parking lot again, terror in his eyes. " You have to forget about me. Move on with your life. I have."

"Oh, you've moved on with your husband? The asshole who took what belonged to me?" Cav looked around at the parking lot, too, though he didn't see a damned face in the growing crowd around them. "Is he here? Why don't he and I have a little conversation?"

"Stop!" Wynter implored. "He's not here."

Cav narrowed his eyes. "Oh, so you're just worried we're out here making a scene, hmm?"

"You have to go," Wynter whispered, sliding closer to the car door.

Cav pressed a hand on the car, barring Wynter from moving another inch toward escape. "You let him put another bastard in you?" Cav whispered. He winced, the thought of Wynter carrying another of the alpha's babies like a knife to the gut. Before him, he could understand— but after? "You're a fucking whore."

Wynter gasped before a mask seemed to slide over this face, the sorrow disappearing behind it. Cav stumbled back a step, the steely glint in Wynter's eyes new.

"I never loved you. I strung you along and told you that I did just for fun," Wynter rasped, his face expressionless. "One heat and I knew you could never be the alpha I needed, so I had to find a way out. I left and never looked back, as well you should. Return to your travels and your words and leave me and my alpha the fuck alone."

"He's not your alpha and you know it," Cav said, refusing to believe anything his omega had said.

"He is. You need to accept the way things are and move on." Wynter slid into the back of the limo and slammed the door shut. The car quickly pulled away, Marlo and Gregory holding him back. He tried to break from their grip to follow the car—as if he could on foot—but they were stronger than he was in his wasted and broken state.

You need to accept the way things are and move on.

His omega had never loved him.

Wynter had faked his own death to get away.

And yet… even knowing that, he couldn't let go. It wasn't a switch he could simply flick. If it had been, he wouldn't be the disaster he was.

There had to be more to the story. No way could Wynter have done that on his own.

"I have to follow him," Cav said, pulling from Marlo and Gregory's hold and failing once more.

"You're in no condition to follow anyone," Gregory snapped.

"He's leaving me. Again." He eyed Marlo who watched him with pity. Cav ignored that pity, refusing to accept what had just happened. "We have to stop him. I need to know how why he did this."

"I think he's already told you why," Gregory muttered.

Cav pulled away from the pair, but they wouldn't let go. "Get your fucking hands off me!"

"You're drunk," Marlo snapped. "You're not going after him like this."

"If I don't go now, I won't find him again!" Cavanaugh roared, trying to get away—but he was no match for them in his state of despair—and inebriation.

"Let's get some food into you. Get you a shower and some sleep. In the morning, we'll help you find him," Marlo said.

"There's no point to this," Gregory said under his breath to Marlo.

"He needs closure." Marlo turned to gaze at Cav. "When he's sobered… and thinking straight."

"What if we don't find him?" Cav asked.

"We'll find him," Gregory said. "We'll help you… but only if you sober up and get some sleep."

Cav growled. "How the fuck do you expect me to sleep knowing he's out there somewhere?"

"You're in no condition right now," Marlo snapped, shoving Cav toward a waiting car. "Food. Shower. Bed. In that order—or you get no help. Is that what you want?"

Cav glared at Marlo.

Marlo glared right back.

"Fine," Cav mumbled.

Marlo and Gregory shoved him in the back of the waiting car. He closed his eyes and slid down in the seat. When his eyes flicked open a few minutes later, he noticed Marlo staring with a frown.

"What?"

Marlo turned away, shaking his head. "Nothing."

Cav inhaled, his chest too tight to get in much air. The world was somehow smaller after what had just happened. His skin felt stretched too tight, his stomach a bundle of frayed nerves. Lunch, what little he'd eaten along with his liquid diet, threatened to make a return.

"Now you know."

Marlo glanced down, narrowing his eyes.

"You deserve better than a broken alpha who couldn't even make his omega love him."

"Stop with the pity party," Marlo mumbled, looking away again.

"Me? I see it in your eyes when you look at me."

Marlo scoffed. "Not pity. You just came face-to-face with the ghost of your dead omega—who's very much alive. I think you deserve a little compassion right now. That's what you see. Not pity."

"They're pretty much the same thing," Cav muttered. "You forget words are my living."

"Mine, too," Marlo said. "But take it as you may. I won't argue the point."

Cav slid up in the seat and rested his head on Marlo's strong shoulder. "I don't want to argue with you. I want my friend back, though."

Marlo was silent a moment. "I'm right here."

"No. You haven't been. And neither have I. Not since…" Cav lifted his head off Marlo. "I can't do anything right."

Marlo shoved Cav's head back onto his shoulder. "Just go to sleep and stop this morose, drunken diatribe, okay?"

"I know I've hurt you," Cav whispered.

Marlo stiffened. "I knew you weren't in a place to give me what I wanted. I was the idiot who took what little I could get anyway."

"I wish I could be that person for you," Cav murmured.

"Me, too," Marlo said. He sighed. "Go to sleep. We can talk about this later… when you're sober."

Sober? The idea of being sober was terrifying. Cav pulled his flask out of his jacket pocket and snuck a drink before Marlo snatched it out of his hands.

"Get it together, Cavanaugh," Marlo snapped.