“You were mine first,” he says, voice low and thick. “Not in some possessive, alpha bullshit way. I mean... I knew it was you. Something about the way you thought—the way you joked, the way you hoped. It was you, Lila Quinn. I’ve always known it was you.”

My throat tightens. My body goes still.

“And I should have told you. I should have been honest the second you opened that accidentally text connection. But I didn’t. I let you fall for Pine because it was easier than risking you hating Tyler.”

His jaw clenches. “And now you do.”

“I don’t,” I say softly.

He stills.

I take a breath. “I was confused. And hurt. But now... I’m more confused and not hurt. Which is worse.”

His mouth twitches like he wants to smile but doesn’t dare.

“You should have told me,” I say, my voice quieter now. “When I first saw you—really saw you—I was so angry. Not just because of the past, but because I’d been vulnerable with Pine. And you let me feel safe with a ghost. With someone who didn’t exist.”

“I know,” he says, the words breaking out of him like he’s been holding them back too long. “I was terrified that if I told you, you’d lose what we had. That you’d stop talking to Pine. And I’d rather have had you that way than not at all.”

My chest aches. He looks wrecked—like every word costs him something.

“But I don’t want the fantasy,” I whisper. “I want all of it. Pine and Tyler. The jokes and the silence. The warmth and the storm. I want you.”

His breath hitches.

“I don’t care if it’s me and just me,” he says. “Or if you build your own damn pack. I’ll follow whatever you choose—as long as I’m in it.”

Then he steps forward, and I back up without thinking until my back hits a wall.

He cages me in with his body, arms braced to either side of my head. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. His scent is a storm—primal and aching and hungry.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers.

I swallow hard.

“Ever since you came back,” he continues, “I’ve tried to stay calm. Controlled. But every day, every second, it gets harder. You smell like everything I’ve ever wanted. And now I know your voice. Your face. Your heat.”

My breath catches. My omega instincts unfurl like a flower seeking sun. I’m soaked in his scent, body buzzing with want. My fingers curl into the hem of my shirt just to stop from grabbing him.

“Kiss me,” I whisper before I can stop myself.

He leans in, lips ghosting just over mine, so close I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the whisper of breath across my mouth. But he doesn’t touch me.

He waits.

My scent flares—sharp, sweet, needy.

His lips curve. Slowly. Wickedly.

“There it is,” he murmurs. “I was wondering when you’d stop pretending you didn’t want me.”

I flush, heart pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.

He lowers his mouth to my ear. “Soon, Lila. I’m going to have my way with you. And you’re going to beg for it.”

I tremble, knees weakening.

“But first,” he adds, pulling back with unbearable slowness, “you need to finish your food.”