Page 166 of Altius
I turned on them—all of them—unable to keep from seething.
The lone omega in a room full of people who would never understand the realities of my designation, no matter how much they cared about me.
“Why? If it wasn’t important enough for my boss to call me herself, to bother the hysterical little omega while she’s recuperating, it’s a done deal. Garvey’s getting away with it—right?”
Cal started talking in an even, almost entreating tone. A colossal waste of breath.
NDA breach. Garvey fired. Settlement.
That’s all that registered over the acidic fury pumping through my veins. Every word only made me angrier.
I reveled in the feeling, fanning the flames until they were strong enough to break the restraint of Owen’s command.
My retreat was anything but graceful.
“Morgan,” Alijah called after me, “there’s got to be—”
“Give me twenty minutes,” I said, inadvertently slamming the door behind me.
Rushing into the nest, I reached for the closest breakable object, a picture frame or a vase, only for my fingertips to collide with unyielding metal.
A computer rack.
I realized with a sobering jolt that this wasn’t my nest.
Nor was it Jacobi’s maximalist haven.
It was Owen’s server room.
God fucking damn it.
I’d gotten so used to having these five men in my personal space that I’d charged into an alpha’s private domain without a single inkling that I wasn’t in my own home.
All I wanted was to vent this loathsome feeling without making anyone worry.
Well, so much for that idea.
Now, I had to go explain that I’d just dissociated so hard that I’d lost my bearings.
Was it too late to grab Joaquin for a quick Sunday afternoon jaunt to the wreck room?
No, I should go back across the hall, text an apology to Quinton, and run myself to exhaustion on the treadmill. That might quell my anger for the time being.
Thankfully, I wasn’t in my nest, or I might have been tempted to ruin the precious jewel box Kelsey had painstakingly rebuilt.
No, never again, I promised, reaching for the door handle. No more detonations.
I wouldn’t rip the covers off the bed where I’d gotten drunk on Wyatt’s pheromones and all but devoured him.
Ruin the mattress where I’d asked Cal to move in with me because I loved him too much to be apart.
Or harm the precious nest where I’d spent the first pleasurable heat of my entire life.
Retreating into the foyer, shutting the panel behind me, I turned—and found myself face to face with an impassive Owen.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to sidestep him. “It won’t happen again.”
Owen blocked my path with a single purposeful stride.
