29. Samuel

29

SAMUEL

I don't know why I'm home. I should really be hiding out at my office at this point. I've been working so damn hard to avoid my pack mates since last Saturday, and I'm pretty fucking sure my time is about up.

Like a shady ass teenager, I'm sitting on the edge of my bed with my head in my palms. I've had a constant headache since I tried to drown my sorrows at the damn karaoke bar, but it's probably because I've done my best to avoid being sober.

I don't know who I am anymore.

I can hardly make it through the mornings without throwing back a glass of whatever poison is closest. My office stash has never been so fucking low. It's embarrassing.

I'm a grown ass alpha, and I'm barely functioning. To make matters worse, I can't even fucking pinpoint what's wrong. I don't think I want to know.

My alpha is constantly battering against the cage I've shoved him into since seeing Amaya a few weeks ago. I should never have allowed her to sign those documents.

I mean, what the fuck?! Her daddy had to have told her I was her neighbor. Why the hell would he let her move in down the street after his alpha dad posturing over her childish tears?

"Open up, asshole!"

I sigh and stand with my handle of cheap whiskey in hand, having known this was going to happen. So much for staying in my room for the past three hours.

I'm too tired to give Oliver a glare, instead I push past him while gulping down another fiery sip.

"The fuck is that?"

Hissing at the burn, I trudge down the stairs into the main room. "None ya," I huff. Oh, look at that, I'm still a dick.

"God, you're an ass. Pack meeting," Oli growls before shoving me into my usual recliner. "Don't get comfortable."

In place of a snarky remark, I take another gulp, only to have my coping mechanism snatched out of my hands by Emmett.

"What the?—"

"Shut up!" my fellow alpha snaps. I raise a brow, annoyed and secretly impressed at his show of backbone. "Here's what's gonna happen."

I point at my bottle now looking lonely on the coffee table. "Can I please have that for this conversation?"

"No," Oliver says quickly, before turning his attention to Emmett.

Emmett glares at me while pacing the length of the living room. "We need to talk."

"And I can't do that with a drink?"

He rounds on me, frustration and murder evident in his eyes. "Sam, so help me?—"

I throw my hands up and lean back. "Alright, alright damn."

Em's angry gaze turns calculating. "What was that Saturday night?"

"How am I supposed to know?" I respond, cocking my head and really hoping I pull the look of confusion off.

"What I think," Emmett snarls, "is that you manipulated your brother into going out for the night to distract us from something. What I know is that same fucking night, an alpha and omega were ready to rip our throats out in the name of some woman they care about."

"And?"

Oliver's head snaps over to me so dramatically he looks like a cartoon. I can't stop my chuckle. Shit, maybe I'm a little drunk .

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Sam? None of this, literally none of this," he waves a hand in my direction, "is like you."

"How would you know?" I snap, feeling attacked and like I'm being accused of something. Wait, is that what's happening?

Before I can ask, Emmett's ripping me off the couch by the front of my T-shirt and snarling in my face. "I'm this fucking close to beating your ass and kicking you to the curb, Sam. Be very, very fucking careful how you speak to my mate."

I admit I tremble a little at the sheer rage and dominance that he's shoving down my throat, or maybe it's the bender I've been on for like six days.

I swallow and nod, resulting in me being thrown back into my seat. "Am I being accused of something?" I huff, trying to gain some control back. If it's between Emmett and me, I am the more dominant one. Hell, I'm pack lead despite being a screwup.

"Obviously," Oliver spits, but I can see the hurt wallowing beneath his hardened gaze.

It's hard to stare him in the eye, having felt all my failures beating me down for days on end. My tone is dull, and my posture slips into the safety of nonchalance. "And what would that be?"

"You tell us." Emmett suddenly looks exhausted, and I can't help but feel the yank down the bond to fix his struggles. Unfortunately, I'm his struggle.

I wave him off, all the while swallowing a thick ball of stress that I swear is permanently lodged in my damn throat. "I have nothing to tell."

"No?" Em challenges.

I know how to shut this down, and it's exactly what I should do to keep them safe from certain heartbreak, but why do the words taste like ash on my tongue? "To you . I have nothing to say to either of you," I sneer, purposefully looking down my nose at them.

Oli rears back at the venom in my tone, which does exactly what I had hoped it would. Now Emmett's attention is on his beta instead of trying to extract some of my most excruciating secrets.

I salute them like a bastard and waltz out of the room. Not before snatching my liquor, because by the tears clouding my brother’s eyes, I'm going to need something to help me forget the pain I've caused and the pain shredding my soul.

The only solution I see to keep them away from her at this point is to drive them away from me.