Page 51 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

“So, about that apology tour,” he begins, breaking the quiet with a grin. “Any stops in mind?”

I glance at him, pretending to think it over. “I don’t know. I hear Paris is nice this time of year.”

Dash laughs, the sound full and genuine, and it sends a warm ripple through my chest. “I’ll get right on that, but maybe we start with a few more of these?” He gestures between us, the suggestion hanging in the air like an unspoken promise.

“Maybe,” I hedge, letting the word stretch out. “But you’re still buying.”

He grins, all boyish charm and mischief. “Deal.”

As we walk, I notice Dash’s steps are slower and more measured than they used to be. He’s not rushing or charging ahead like he always did, dragging everyone along in his wake. It’s like he’s finally in sync with the world around him, rather than trying to outpace it.

“You know, I never thanked you,” he says softly, breaking into my thoughts.

I look at him, puzzled. “For what?”

He hesitates, his eyes searching mine. “For walking away when I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see what I was doing to you… to us.”

His words catch me off guard. I expected many things from Dash, but gratitude for leaving him wasn’t one of them. “You’re welcome?” The words come out more like a question, my confusion clear.

Dash smiles sadly. “After you left, I took a nosedive into the gutter. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the wake-up call I needed to pull my head out of my ass. It forced me to confront who I’d become, and it made me realize what I lost… what I’d thrown away.”

I swallow hard, looking away. The raw honesty in his voice is difficult to hear, but it’s what I’ve always wanted from him. “You did throw it away, Dash. You threw us away.”

He nods, accepting the harsh truth. “I know, and I can’t change the past, but I can make amends in the present and be better in the future.”

We stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. I turn to face him, studying his features in the glow of the streetlamps. He looks so different, yet so familiar. It’s an unsettling contrast.

“You hurt me, Dash,” I whisper. “You hurt me so much.”

Pain flashes across his face, and he reaches up, tentatively tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is gentle, hesitant, and respectful. “I know, Aria, and I’m so sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable. I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes and quickly blink them back. “Sorry isn’t enough, Dash. It can’t erase what happened.”

“I know,” he says softly, dropping his hand back to his side, “but it’s a start, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, even if it takes a lifetime.”

The light changes, and we cross the street in silence. His words hang heavily in the air, a promise that feels both profound and frightening. As we approach my apartment building, I see the familiar warmth of the lights inside.

We stop at the entrance, and I turn to face him. “Well, this is me,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dash nods, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Thank you for tonight, Aria. Thank you for listening and giving me a chance to explain.”

I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “I’m glad I came, Dash. It was important to hear what you had to say, but remember, baby steps. We aren’t rushing into anything.”

He smiles softly, a hint of the old Dash shining through. “Baby steps. I can do that.”

There’s an awkward pause as we both hesitate, unsure how to end the evening. Finally, Dash leans in, brushing his lips gently against my cheek. It’s a chaste kiss, barely more than a whisper, but it sends a jolt of electricity through me nonetheless.

“Goodnight, Aria,” he murmurs, stepping back.

“Goodnight, Dash,” I reply quietly.

He waits until I’m safely inside the building before turning and walking away, his figure disappearing into the night. I watch him go, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest. Hope, fear, and uncertainty all battle for dominance, leaving me feeling both exhilarated and exhausted.

As I make my way up to my apartment, I can’t shake the feeling that tonight was a turning point, a new beginning, or perhaps, at the very least, a step toward healing. Whatever it was, I know one thing for sure—the Dash I thought I knew is gone, and in his place is a man who seems genuinely committed to change.

I think about how this might affect the pack dynamics. How will they all fit with this new, sober Dash, and where do I fit in all of this?

As I unlock my apartment door, I’m hit with a wave of exhaustion. The emotional roller coaster of an evening has left me drained, but underneath the fatigue, there’s a small spark of something. Hope? Possibility?

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