Page 86 of Stolen Omega

“Sure,” I tell him.

“Sure?” he asks.

“Let’s have a drink.”

Chapter Thirty

Zane

Six Years Ago

It’s too bright outside. Late afternoon at the start of the summer and I feel like a goddamned vampire walking on the sidewalk, trying to stick to the shadows so I don’t end up burning to death.

Following Dale around like this probably counts as stalking.

I try to force myself to go back home to my dark, dingy apartment, but, ultimately, I can’t do it.

The protective urge to chase down and look after the Omega I basically abandoned to grief a couple years back is kind of fucked up, but it’s stronger than my need for revenge.

He needs me. He fucking needs me.

I don’t know how I didn’t realize that before now. I got so fucking obsessed with finding Zoey, then I got tangled up in the search for the men who took her. I didn’t have room for anything else, so I told myself Dale was better off without me. I wasn’t worth shit as an Alpha. I’d already let Zoey down.

I would only let him down, too.

Well, that already happened.

I lost two true mates when Zoey was taken, but Dale isn’t gone.

He might be disappointed in me, but he still cares. He still wants me as his Alpha.

His final words told me he wouldn’t wait much longer for me.

That’s what it took to snap me out of it.

Knowing I was going to lose him for good.

I’ve let him down for long enough.

I’ll follow him tonight. Figure out what his life looks like.

Try to decide if he really needs me.

If he does, I’m there.

If he’s moved on, I’ll let him go.

Watching from a distance makes it painfully obvious how separate our lives have become. He’s not the same shy, little kid I met when he moved into my old apartment building. He’s come out of that shell so far I can barely recognize him. The old Dale never would have showed up on my doorstep to warn me he was ready to let the past go.

I shouldn’t be here. It makes me feel like such an asshole.

Rushing after him to beg for a fresh start would be the least I could do under other circumstances. When it seems like he’s already moved on, it feels wrong to pull him off a path that looks like it’s making him happy.

Fuck. This is fucked.

I leave the rich neighborhood before someone catches me lurking and calls the cops. I might be an Alpha, but I don’t look like I belong here. My clothes are old and tattered, and my face …

Christ, I don’t remember the last time I even looked in a mirror.

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