Page 82 of Rogue Games

“I just wanted to come here and, eh, thank you for keeping her safe. And for keeping her secret, even when it was hard.”

As her voice waivers, and she fights back a sniffle, I shake my head, trying to harden myself against the scent of her tears that drift to me under the door.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry about what he did to you and your mum, and what I said. I had every right to be angry, but that was vile. You’re a good alpha and a good man.”

Damn it, I'm an alpha. I'm supposed to be stronger than this, but this tiny little rogue has me wrapped around her finger.

I drop my hands to the cushion beneath me and dig in hard, holding myself back from going to her. This woman is my weakness. If there was a poster child for the exact wrong person for me and for my pack, she’s it.

And yet, with a little wobble in her voice, I'm ready to pull her into my arms and comfort her.

“Anyway,” she continues, putting some steel back into her tone and pushing her weight away from the door. "I just wanted you to know that. You saved my life. You saved my mother's life. And you gave Wyatt a second chance. Thank you.”

She sighs, and I hear her feet shuffle on the wooden deck outside.

I say nothing, gritting my teeth to stop myself from asking her to stay.

“If you want to talk… or hang out…” she trails off. “Find me when you’re ready to, you know, break the bond.”

A few seconds later, her soft footsteps move slowly away. She lingers at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, like she’s debating saying more, before she finally leaves, her feet falling silent on the damp grass.

The urge to rush outside and chase after her is overwhelming and my wolf snarls, furious at even the mention of ending our connection.

When Jamie disappears over the crest of the hill, I stand, not sure what to do with the anger and anxiety building up inside me. I need to run, to hunt, or to break something. Maybe all three. Yet, I fear the moment I let my wolf loose, he'll betray me and chase after that beautiful little wolf.

So instead, I move to the kitchen and start cooking up a storm. After spending a lifetime trying to find healthier ways to deal with stress and anger, Maggie was the one who encouraged me to try cooking.

Keeping my hands busy and my mind focused was a godsend. It gave me a way of distracting my mind from reliving all the beatings he gave me, all the times he called me to his office just to rail on me or make me watch him beat my mother or Maggie senseless.

I rest my elbows on the kitchen island and squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught of images being dredged up by the same feelings of frustration swirling around inside me.

Jax kneeling over Maya in the dirt, Maya broken and battered. My father smug in victory, pumped up and aggressive, but also guilt ridden. His eyes practically begging me to end him before he went too far. Could I turn into him one day? Could I hurt her?

It’s probably my biggest fear, that I’m not so different from him after all.

“Fuck,” I shout. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The games were supposed to be good for the pack but not one thing has gone right so far.

Because I’ve been distracted by Jamie.

But fuck it if I don’t want to be distracted by her even more.

Three firm wraps on the front door bring me back to reality and tell me that my beta has finally had enough of me ignoring his incessant mind-links. I debate leaving him outside, but I know I'm not going to get away with hiding from him any longer.

I stride across the room, body tense and shoulders straight, ready for the inevitable tongue-lashing I know is coming.

I yank open the door, my hackles already raised, ready for him to tear into me for ignoring my duties. Instead, Callum just looks worried.

“At least you’re in one piece. That’s something.” I sense his genuine concern and instantly feel like shit. He slips into the living room, head bowed, submissive, but looking at me the very same way he did the night I had to put my father down.

And in a million ways, that's worse than him being mad at me. It shocks me, because I know this is really fucking serious. That I'm really in danger of going over the edge.

“Tell me what’s going on. No bullshit this time.”

37

DEAN

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