Her eyes burn with fury, beneath it, there’s something colder—something that chills me more than her anger ever could: disappointment. Disgust. Loathing.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she spits, stepping closer. The sheer force of her presence makes me flinch involuntarily. “I almost lost my job today because of you!” Her voice rises with every word, her anger spiraling out of control like a wildfire feeding on dry brush. “Mrs. Whitmore saw this!” She thrusts her phone into my face, the screen glowing with some damning image or video I can barely make out through the blur of my tears and swimming vision. “She said if she ever catches you near her house again, she’ll call the police! Do you hear me? The police! She won’t have some little Omega w***e sniffing around her mate!”
T
