Page 50 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

Dash nods, his fingers tracing abstract patterns on the tabletop. “Yeah. It’s been… a journey.”

I can’t help but snort at that. “A journey. That’s one way to put it.”

His eyes snap up to meet mine, and I’m struck by the intensity I see there. “Aria, I know I have a lot to make up for. What I did to you… how I treated you… it’s unforgivable.”

“You’re right,” I say bluntly. “It is.”

He flinches but nods. “I know, and I’m not asking for forgiveness. Not yet at least. I just… I want you to know that I see it now—how wrong I was and how much damage I caused.”

I take a sip of my latte, buying myself time to process his words. The Dash I knew would have brushed off any criticism with a laugh and a wink. This Dash, however, seems to be genuinely grappling with the weight of his actions. It’s disconcerting to say the least.

“So what changed?” I ask, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice. “Did you have some magical epiphany, or did you just get tired of waking up in a puddle of your own vomit?”

Dash winces, but he doesn’t shy away from my harsh words. “It wasn’t one big moment,” he says quietly. “It was a lot of little ones. Waking up and not knowing where I was or what I’d done. Seeing the fear in people’s eyes when I got angry. Realizing I couldn’t remember the last time I felt truly happy without a drink in my hand.” He pauses and takes a sip of his tea. “And then there was you.”

I freeze, my mug halfway to my lips. “Me?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “The night you left… the things I said and the way I acted. When I sobered upand remembered, I was disgusted with myself. I kept trying to rationalize it and tell myself it wasn’t that bad, but I couldn’t shake the image of your expression and the hurt in your eyes. It haunted me.”

I swallow hard, fighting back the surge of emotions his words bring. “It wasn’t just that night, Dash. It was a pattern—a long, painful pattern.”

“I know,” he says, and the raw honesty in his voice makes me shiver. “That’s what I’m trying to change. Not just for you, but for myself. I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

I study him, searching for any sign of the old Dash—the charming manipulator and the self-centered alpha who thought the world revolved around him—but all I see is sincerity and a vulnerability that makes my chest ache in a way I’m not ready to examine too closely.

“It’s not going to be easy,” I warn him, my voice low. “You have a lot of ground to make up.”

Dash nods, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I know, but I’m willing to put in the work, Aria. For the first time in my life, I think I’m ready to face my demons head-on.”

We lapse into silence again, but this time, it feels less strained. I sip my latte, letting the rich flavor roll over my tongue as I mull over Dash’s words. Part of me wants to believe him and embrace this new, more self-aware version of the man I once loved, but another part—the part that still flinches at loud noises and second-guesses every decision—remains wary.

“I’m proud of you,” I blurt, because I am.

Dash’s eyes widen. He’s clearly caught off guard by my sudden declaration. For a moment, he looks almost boyish, but then something deeper settles in his gaze, a mix of gratitude and determination that makes my heart stutter.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. “That means more than you know.”

I nod, suddenly feeling exposed. I wrap my hands tighter around my mug, using it as a shield. “Don’t let it go to your head,” I warn, but there’s no real bite to my words.

Dash chuckles, a low, warm sound that sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, then he sobers. “Look, Aria, I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but… I’d like to try to make amends if you’ll let me.”

I study him, weighing his words against years of broken promises and shattered trust. The smart thing to do would be to walk away and protect myself from the possibility of more pain, but something in his eyes and the set of his shoulders makes me pause.

“I can’t make any promises,” I say slowly, my heart pounding, “and I’m not saying I forgive you. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I’m not slamming the door in your face, but don’t expect me to roll out the welcome mat either.”

Relief and hope brightens Dash’s face. “Slow and steady it is. I’ll be your tortoise if you’ll be my… well, not hare. Maybe a slightly less jumpy rabbit?”

I nod, feeling overwhelmed by the weight of this moment. “I should probably get going,” I say, glancing at my watch. “It’s getting late.”

Dash stands as I gather my things, ever the gentleman. “Can I walk you home?” he asks, then he quickly adds, “Just to make sure you get there safely. No ulterior motives, I promise.”

I hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Alright, but keep your hands to yourself, mister.”

As we step out into the cool night air, I feel a strange mix of trepidation and excitement. This new Dash is unfamiliar territory, but there’s something undeniably appealing about his newfound maturity and self-awareness.

As we walk, I think about how this interaction might affect my relationships with the other pack members. Howwould Malachi react to Dash’s transformation? Would Zane’s protective instincts flare up? And Quinn… Would he see this as a potential threat or a positive development for the pack?

The silence between us is charged but not uncomfortable. Dash shoves his hands into his pockets, his shoulder brushing mine every so often in a way that feels deliberate, like a question he’s too afraid to ask aloud.

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