Page 139 of Roulette Rodeo
"She took something?" I say softly. "The overdose."
"We don't know if it was intentional or if she just wanted to escape the situation temporarily. But yeah, she took something. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. She died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital."
The weight of the story settles over us like a shroud. I can picture it too clearly—two alphas destroyed by grief and guilt, a friendship shattered, a pack left broken by a loss that might have been prevented if anyone had just listened instead of trying to fix.
"Rafe blames himself," I say, not a question.
"They both do. Rafe thinks if he'd just let her go, she'd still be alive. Luca thinks if he hadn't gone with Rafe, the argument wouldn't have escalated. The truth is, Sophia was broken before she ever met them. Her family had broken her, society had ruined her, and we were just the final straw."
I absorb all of this, turning it over in my mind like a puzzle piece I'm trying to fit into the larger picture.
"Is that why you're all here? In Jackknife Ridge?"
"Partly. After Sophia died, the friendship between Rafe and Luca turned into something ugly. They went to war—not just personally but professionally. Their families' businesses started targeting each other. People got hurt. Eventually, we realized if we stayed, someone else was going to die. So we left. Came here where we could disappear, start over."
"But Luca followed."
"About six months later, yeah. Claims he has legitimate business interests in the area, but we all know he's here because he can't let it go. Can't let Rafe go. The competition, maybe it became an addiction. They're like two wounded animals, circling each other, neither able to finish the fight nor walk away from it."
I process all of this, the weight of their history, the tragedy that shaped them.
It explains so much—Rafe's hostility, the careful way they all treat me like I might break or disappear, the tension whenever Sophia's name comes up.
"I'm not her," I say quietly. “Nothing like her I assume.”
"No," Corwin agrees immediately. "You're nothing like her, thank goodness."
"But Rafe?—"
"Rafe's scared," he interrupts gently. "He's terrified that history will repeat itself. That we'll break you like we broke her,or that you'll realize we're too damaged and leave. Or worse, that you'll stay out of obligation and slowly die inside like she did."
I think about Rafe's coldness, his anger, the way he watches me like I'm a bomb about to go off.
"He's trying to push me away."
"Probably. He figures if he makes you hate him now, it'll hurt less when you inevitably leave." Corwin's hand comes up to cup my cheek, turning my face toward his. "But you're not going to leave, are you?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with implication.
Am I going to leave?
Three days ago, I might have said yes, that this was just temporary until I figured out my next move.
But now...
Now I've tasted Shiloh's kisses and Talon's laughter. I've felt Corwin's steadiness and even glimpsed what might be pain behind Rafe's ice. I've found a friend in Poppy and a home that's starting to feel like it might actually be mine.
I’m experiencing life like I’m on a brand new journey, versus being stuck in a cage, repeating the same cycle as time ticks away into an endless blissful of anxiety and uncertainty.
"No," I say, surprised by my own certainty. "I'm not going to leave."
His thumb brushes over my cheekbone, and there's something soft in his eyes.
"Good. Because I don't think we'd survive losing another omega,” he quietly confesses and add, “Especially not you."
The moment stretches between us, heavy with potential, and I think he might kiss me. Part of me wants him to, wants to know if all the alphas in this pack kiss differently, if they all taste like home in their own way.
But then Duke—the dog—comes barreling around the corner, muddy and triumphant with what looks like a deadsquirrel in his mouth. He drops it at our feet like a prize, tail wagging so hard his whole body wiggles.
