Page 43 of Who We Were

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 Iknowis 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, literallynoneof 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'mthisfucking close to beating your ass and kicking you to the curb, Sam. Be very,veryfucking 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'mhis 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? "Toyou. 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.

30

AMAYA

SIXTEEN YEARS OLD - HOURS BEFORE SHE WAS TAKEN

Idon't know when it started, the constant sweaty palms and my eyes sneaking glances at them, but I don't know how to stop it. And they definitely don't make it easy to hide these days.

Their touches are becoming more frequent, or maybe I'm just noticing them more. I don't know.

Take right now for example, I know for a fact that Sammy can feel how clammy my palms are and I swear every time I've glanced up at him, his green eyes have been there to catch me.

I wonder if he can hear my heart thundering away in my chest.

"You okay, Maya?"

"Huh?" I didn't realize I got lost in the way the lake sparkled in his eyes, and now I'm even more embarrassed.

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