Page 121 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

There’s no answer.

He knocks again, faster now, more desperate. “Aimee. Come on, please—open the door.”

Jace moves to the side and presses his ear to the wood, listening for movement. My hands curl into fists as another few beats of silence pass between us, and I can’t handle it any more. I step forward, crowding the door, my instincts roaring.

I hit the wood with the flat of my palm. “Aimee. Open the door.”

…Nothing.

“Babe,” I say, my voice shaky now. “Open the door.”

Still. Nothing.

Cam rattles the handle. “Fuck—she’s in there, Iknowshe’s in there—”

“She might not even know we’re real,” Jace mutters. “Zara said she wasn’t making sense.”

I’m not waiting any longer to find out.

“Fuck this,” I mutter, stepping back.

Cam glances at me. “Wes—”

But I’m already bracing my foot.

The door cracks on the first kick, then buckles on the second. On the third, it slams open, the lock splintering clean through the frame.

Her scent’s everywhere. It’s too raw, too desperate; her body crying out for comfort, for safety, forus, and we weren’t fucking there. I barely register Cam saying her name, or Jace darting ahead.

All I can hear is the sound of my own heart breaking.

Still, I move; every instinct I’ve got screamingfind her, find her, find her.Her apartment’s hardly huge, and we follow the scent, quickly finding her in her bedroom.

For a second, I think I’m too late. She’s curled on the bed, half-wrapped in blankets and oversized shirts, her body slick with sweat while simultaneously shaking like a leaf. She’s almost unrecognizable: her face is blotchy, dark eyes glassy and unfocused, and her lips are completely dry. There’s a small pile of water bottles on the nightstand, but they’re all unopened. One’s been knocked to the floor.

She blinks at us. Doesn’t move, doesn’t speak—juststares.

“Aimee?” Jace says gently, moving closer.

She blinks again. And then—

“No,” she whispers, barely audible. “No, no, no, you’re not—you’re not real—”

Her voice cracks halfway through. I watch with wide eyes as she presses her face into the nearest hoodie, shivering, her whole body curling inward like she’s trying to disappear. Her scent spikes again—wild, distressed, soaked in omega need and pain—and I can’t take it.

Cam swallows hard. “She’s not lucid.”

“She’s been in this too long,” I mutter. “She’s gone past the spike. She’s burning through it.”

“She didn’t call anyone,” Cam says, looking around like he’s searching for answers. “She didn’ttellanyone—”

“Because we didn’t let her,” I snap.

Aimee whimpers into the fabric clutched in her hands, then lets out a sound that absolutely fucking destroys me—half sob, half desperate moan. Her legs twitch under the covers like she’s trying to crawl out of her own skin, like everything hurts and nothing helps; and I can feel my control slipping with every second I breathe her in.

“Jace,” I snap, my voice rough and low. “We need to cool her down. Cam—get water. Towels. Anything—just go.”

She cries out again, and this time it lands like a punch right to my chest.

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