Prologue

PROLOGUE

ZANE

The late afternoon sun is doing its best impression of a dramatic movie scene, casting long shadows across Dr. Harper’s office. Everything looks way more somber than it probably should. I bet she planned it this way. Nothing says spill your guts like mood lighting, right?

I sink into the plush leather chair, and I swear it’s trying to eat me alive. It’s dim in here—cozy, I guess—but I still feel like I’m center stage with a spotlight on my face.

I feel exposed and vulnerable, like I have I’m a total screwup tattooed on my forehead in neon letters.

My hands clasp the armrests so tightly, I can practically hear my tendons screaming. The leather creaks under my grip, and in the quiet room, it sounds like I’m sitting on a herd of mice. If Dr. Harper notices, she doesn’t say, but I know she sees it. She has that look—the one that says I see your emotional baggage, and I’m about to unpack it whether you like it or not.

The atmosphere in here is like a pressure cooker of emotions. There’s this fake lavender scent that’s trying way too hard to mask the cocktail of alpha, beta, and omega pheromones lingering in the air. It’s like walking through a minefield of other people’s pain and relief. Beneath it all, I can still smell traces of anxiety and hope from previous clients. It’s a reminder of why I’m here—not that Malachi gave me much of a choice. Go to therapy, or I’ll make you watch rom-coms with Quinn for a week straight. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.

“Zane,” Dr. Harper starts, her voice that perfect mixture of gentleness and probing that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. “You mentioned wanting to discuss something important today. What’s on your mind?”

It’s now or never. I inhale deeply, and the smell of leather and old books mingles with the lavender, clogging my senses like some weird emotional smoothie. “Fuck, I knew from day one that Aria was an omega,” I blurt out, the words tripping over each other like drunk frat boys. My gaze locks onto Dr. Harper’s, intense enough to make most people flinch. She doesn’t.

Damn, she’s good.

I can’t help but smirk as I think of how Aria tried to cover her scent with red onions. Nice try, little omega. A for effort, F for execution.

The confession hangs between us like a lead balloon. Dr. Harper’s eyebrows do a little dance, but she waits, her pen hovering above her notepad like it’s about to take flight. I’m grateful she doesn’t rush in with questions. The silence gives me a chance to figure out how to say the rest without sounding like a complete asshole.

It took days—weeks—of quality time with my good friend Jack Daniels to even face this and admit what I’ve known all along. For three long weeks, I danced around this truth, pretending I couldn’t smell the sweet, enticing scent of orange creamsicle that clings to Aria’s skin like the world’s most delicious perfume.

I’m such a fucking coward. Captain of the SS Emotional Avoidance, at your service.

“I played dumb about Aria being an omega because facing it meant facing everything else—my fears, my failures, and the ghost of Jane. It was easier to be an asshole than to be honest,” I say, my voice barely scraping the surface of a whisper. “I thought if I ignored it, it wouldn’t be real, but it is. It always was. From the second I laid eyes on her.”

Dr. Harper stares at me like she’s trying to read my soul. The silence stretches between us, taut as a wire. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft but probing, each word creating another crack in the walls I’ve built. “That’s a significant revelation, Zane. How does it make you feel, admitting this out loud?”

I rake a hand through my hair—an old nervous habit I’ve never quite shaken. The leather of the chair sticks to my palms, clammy with sweat. I feel like a teenager about to ask someone to prom.

“Guilty,” I mutter, the word bitter and burning on the way out. “Ashamed. I should have protected her, but instead…” I hesitate, the weight of my own failure nearly choking me.

“Instead, you what?” she prompts softly.

“I treated her like shit,” I finally admit, the taste of my response sour and heavy. “I was harsh and dismissive. I kept telling myself it was because she was hiding her true nature, but the truth is, I was the one hiding—hiding from what I knew and my own goddamn feelings.”

Dr. Harper nods slowly, her expression thoughtful but not unkind. “Let’s dig into that, Zane. You’ve talked previously about complicated relationships with women in your past. How do you think that history has influenced how you treated Aria?”

I feel my guard snap into place like a reflex, the old defense mechanism rearing up to protect me from the sting of past failures. My scent of leather and sandalwood spikes with aggression, turning sharp and acrid. I probably smell like a cologne factory exploded. “Jane was… Jane was different,” I bite out, the edge in my voice sharper than a samurai sword. “That was a long time ago.”

“And yet, Jane’s memory still seems to impact you deeply,” Dr. Harper replies calmly, like she has all the time in the world to wait me out. I half expect her to pull out a sandwich and get comfortable. “Tell me about Jane. How does she connect to what’s happening with Aria?”

Her name is like a sucker punch to the gut. I close my eyes, the floodgates of memories cracking open despite all the time I’ve spent trying to nail them shut. “Jane was… everything. My first love, my mate. She wasn’t an omega like Aria, but she…”

The words stick in my throat like peanut butter, and for a moment, I can’t speak. Dr. Harper doesn’t push, she just lets the silence stretch, giving me space to pull the words free.

“She died,” I murmur, my voice splintering on the confession. “There was an accident. I couldn’t save her. I failed.”

Accident? Try murder, but that’s a whole other can of worms I’m not ready to open.

There it is—the stark, undeniable truth. The failure that’s haunted every decision I’ve made since. “And now I’m failing Aria too. I’ve been pushing her away and punishing her for something that isn’t her fault, because I’m too fucking scared of losing her the way I lost Jane.”

Dr. Harper’s voice is steady, a calm tether to pull me back from the swirling mess in my head. “Zane, you weren’t responsible for Jane’s death, and you have the power to change your relationship with Aria. The real question is, are you willing to take that risk?”

I meet her gaze, the intensity of it making me twitch. “I have to,” I say, my voice taking on a quiet intensity that makes Dr. Harper lean in slightly. “I can’t keep doing this. Aria deserves better. The pack deserves better.”

Dr. Harper gives a small, approving nod. “That’s a brave step forward, Zane. What do you think your next steps should be?”

My mind races as half formed plans and apologies stack up like dominoes. “I need to talk to the pack,” I say slowly, feeling the weight of the decision settle into my bones. “We need to face this as a unit, and then I need to apologize to Aria. Really apologize, not just throw words at her and hope they stick.”

As I lean back in the chair, a fraction of the weight I’ve been carrying seems to lift. It isn’t gone, not by a long shot, but it’s something. Dr. Harper watches me carefully, like she’s weighing every movement and every word.

“That’s a strong start,” she says, making a note on her pad, “but I want you to be prepared for setbacks. Changing long-standing behaviors and deep-rooted fears isn’t a straight line.”

“I know,” I reply, my jaw tightening, “but I can’t keep running from this. I can’t keep letting my shit spill over onto Aria. I’m supposed to be the one protecting her, not making her life harder.”

I’m supposed to be a fucking security guard. Some guard I am. I can’t even protect her from myself.

She nods, her pen moving with the kind of efficiency that tells me she’s done this a thousand times. “Speaking of Aria, how do you think she might respond to your apology? Given your history, she may not be immediately receptive.”

The thought punches me in the gut. Of course she wouldn’t just forgive me, not after everything. “I… I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Do you think she won’t forgive me?”

“Forgiveness isn’t a switch you can flip, Zane. It’s a process,” Dr. Harper reminds me gently. “She may need time. The important thing is that you’re consistent in showing her that you’ve changed.”

I nod, the reality of it settling in. The pack, Aria, everything’s tangled up in this mess I made. I can’t expect them to just fall in line because I’m finally ready to be honest. “I think I need to start with honesty. No more hiding behind excuses.”

“That’s a good foundation,” Dr. Harper agrees, her smile small but warm. “Honesty and transparency will be crucial in rebuilding trust.”

I swallow hard, bracing myself for what comes next. “I need to tell her everything—about Jane, about my fears… and about how I’ve always known she is an omega.”

Dr. Harper tilts her head, studying me like she’s reading between the lines. “That level of vulnerability isn’t easy. How do you feel about opening up like that?”

“Terrified,” I admit, managing a wry smile despite the anxiety coiling in my gut. “But also… maybe a little relieved? Like I’m finally peeling off a layer that’s been choking me.”

Dr. Harper nods thoughtfully. “Zane, consider this. Your fear of losing Aria, of history repeating itself, is understandable, but by keeping her at arm’s length, aren’t you already losing her?”

Her words hit me with the force of a slap, cold and sharp. She’s right. I’ve been so busy walling myself off, so caught up in protecting myself from pain, that I’ve been inflicting it on her instead.

“God,” I whisper, my voice raw. “I’ve been such a fool.”

“Self-awareness is the first step to change,” Dr. Harper says, her tone firm but kind. “You’re already on the path.”

As our session winds down, I find myself at the window, staring out at the sun dipping below the horizon. There’s a shift happening inside me, like the last threads of an old skin finally tearing away. The old Zane, the one clinging to mistakes and regrets, is fading into the shadows and making room for someone willing to face the mess head-on.

“Same time next week?” Dr. Harper asks as I gather my things.

“Yeah,” I answer, the weight in my chest feeling just a little lighter. “Thanks, Dr. Harper.”

The cool evening air hits me as I step outside, carrying the scents of the city—car exhaust, food from nearby restaurants, and the faint, mingled pheromones of countless passersby. I take a long, deep breath, letting it clear my head. It won’t be easy, and I’m sure as hell not expecting it to be, but for the first time in a long time, I have a direction. I know what needs to be done.

The streetlights flicker on, casting warm pools of light along the sidewalk, and I can’t help but think it’s a sign of a new start—one where I actually have a chance to get things right.

As I walk toward my car, my mind is already racing with how I’ll approach the pack. Malachi, with his calm authority. Quinn, always ready with a quip but fiercely loyal. Dash, carefree on the surface but with hidden depths. Aria… God, Aria. Her scent fills my senses even now.

It’s time to stop running, because the alternative—losing Aria and my pack—is not an option I’m willing to consider.

Not anymore.

I climb into my car, the leather seats cool against my back. As I start the engine, I can’t help but chuckle. Who knew it would take a therapist’s couch and the threat of a rom-com marathon to get my head out of my ass? Life’s funny like that sometimes.