6. Vincent

6

VINCENT

I 'm going to kick his ass if he doesn't tell me what I want to know. It's almost come to that a few times these past six months.

Fucking check-in support dicks thinking they're better than us.

"Dude, relax," Beckett drawls, leaning back on what used to be my bed.

There's no love lost leaving the alpha and beta rehabilitation center behind. I've been itching to get myself out of this place since before I even got here. Something about scenting your mate right before you're ripped apart and thrown in another fucking dorm would turn any alpha a little feral.

And what not to say to an alpha who's going crazy? Relax .

I narrow my eyes at the platinum-blond douchebag. "Where the fuck is she, Beck?" I growl, needing the answers I know he has. His bonded mate is her check-in support person, after all.

"Honestly, man, how you didn't get assigned a support member is beyond me." He doesn't look at me as he tosses a tennis ball up into the air.

Frustrated, I throw my backpack at the door, happy when his blue eyes finally snap to mine. "Beckett, I'm serious."

My warning just makes him smirk. "Me too."

As much as I'm bursting at the seams to get out of here, I need to know where Amaya went. The only destination once I leave this place is at my omega's side. The only person who would tell me where she is: the alpha currently working my last goddamn nerve.

I spent six months in this building with nobody willing to give me the answers I needed about the lavender and crisp spring scent that changed my world before they ripped it away from me.

Then check-in support members started getting trained and socializing with the rest of us in rehab. Quite a few alphas, betas and omegas moved in with their families or newly found packs after the academy was dismantled. After taking their courses and going to therapy virtually, those lucky bastards volunteered to help us out. Those of us who don't have enough support, love, or decent homes to retreat to and heal with.

There's obviously more of us in rehab than happily living in the real world. The academy fucked us up pretty damn good.

That's not to say the support members don't have their fair share of trauma and issues. Take Beckett for example. If he didn't have his pack and his omega keeping him tethered and sane, he would be here right alongside me. I'd even bet he'd be forced to have a support member riding his ass when it came time for him to leave here.

Sighing, Beckett slips off my bed and strides to my door. He snatches my backpack off the ground and throws it over his shoulder. "Baltimore. She's staying with her dad in the city until she's cleared."

Cleared . It's taking everything in me not to go down the rabbit hole of what that could mean for her. She's clearly not okay if she needs Beckett's omega to help her reacclimate to the real world, but how bad is it? Is she suicidal?

" Where in Baltimore?" My voice is gravelly, emotion stripping me raw in front of my friend.

I may use Beckett for information, but when we first met, I had no idea he would know anything about my mate. We were just two slightly unhinged alphas who were doing our best to get better. To be better for the ones we love.

It just happened to be the greatest coincidence of all time when I told him of the lavender-scented omega, and his jaw dropped before telling me his mate, Kate, smelled exactly like what I'd described when she came home from meeting with her support assignment.

After a few weeks of additional digging and prying from Beckett and Kate, they became my secret matchmakers. Only, Amaya doesn't know about it. According to Kate, my mate is struggling far too much to accept that I haven't been there to get her out of rehab and help her heal.

"You know I could get into a lot of trouble for this, right?"

"Yes," I deadpan, not caring to hear this again.

He may be my matchmaker, but he's very stingy with the information he gives me. I know my mate’s name, that she's been doing fine , and now I know she's in Baltimore with her dad. Everything else they've kept confidential and believe I need to ask Amaya for her life's story.

Beckett sighs again, like I'm the insufferable one. "Fine, now that you have a phone, I'll text you the info. Can we go? Your bike just got dropped off and my sister will have my balls if I keep her waiting any longer."

I hold my whoop in and follow him out of my now vacant room. Beckett's phone chimes, making him groan. Throwing my backpack at me, he digs his phone out of his shorts. "Fuck," he groans and picks up the pace to the front doors. "Freya's threatening to leave my ass here. "

Excitement sizzles through my veins, not only because my bike shipped in time, but because I'm finally going to meet my mate.

Amaya doesn't know me, and I don't know her, but one thing that I do know is that lavender scented omega became my whole world a year ago.

Every accomplishment I made in rehab, every vulnerable therapy session, I did for her. I healed, and I grew, and now? I'm on my way, Amaya.