Page 136 of Pack Rivals, Part One

And he's out the door before Connor can stop him.

"Shit," Connor mutters.

He's undecided whether to stay with me or follow after Nate. Fuck knows where the dude is headed, but he's likely to leave a path of destruction wherever he goes. Usually, Connor's the one that clears up his messes and scoops him out of whatever hole he lands himself in.

"Go after him," I tell Connor.

"No," Connor drags his hand down his face and collapses into the nearest chair. "No, I haven't got the energy, man, I'm …"

I understand. I feel the same way.

Defeated.

Crushed.

Empty.

It's not meant to feel this way, is it?

We're alphas. We fall for a girl, we have our fun, we move on.

She shouldn't hold us under a spell. She shouldn't drain us like this.

I didn't even know her that well.

"She's never going to want to see us again," Connor says.

Yeah, she won't and I'm never going to get the chance to know her like I want to.

Except, even as I think that, I smell bullshit. I do know her. I see her. I understand her.

I don't comprehend how that's possible. But it is. She is meant to be mine.

And, goddamn it, I am meant to be hers.

"I don't know how to fix this." I lean over my knees and stare down at my hands. The hands that held her only two days ago. Now they're skinned and raw, dried blood on my knuckles and someone else's blood on my palms.

These hands aren't worthy of her. These hands don't deserve to touch her.

"No, me neither," Connor says, sighing.

"Not good enough," I snap. "We have to fix it." I jump to my feet and take Nate's place, stalking up and down the room. Connor's eyes follow my movement. "We have to fix it. I'm not giving up on her."

"You think Pack Boston will?"

I consider this for a moment. "No," I say.

"Didn't think so, which means we're in a worse position than before. Because now, not only are we in competition for this girl, she hates us too."

"There has to be a way to make it right."

"Axel," Connor says, and I stop pacing at his tone, "if someone did that to you –played with your feelings, made a bet about you – would you forgive them?"

"Shit." I thump my fist against the wall making the plaster shake. "Shit, shit, shit."

We spend the next few hours going over it. Back and forth. Searching for a way to fix the mess we've made. We come up with no solutions whatsoever.

Nothing.

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