For three days, Dante ran.

He couldn’t stop the crushing ache in his chest. Even as a wolf, the pain of losing his omega cut vicious and sharp like a jagged blade.

Over and over, he tried to listen for Finn. Expected to hear Finn’s voice coming through in his head, murmuring Good morning, or Where are you? or The pups just kicked again. In the mornings, Dante woke, expecting to breathe in dill and musk, expecting to feel the heat of Finn’s body against his own.

But all Dante found was empty forest, or a dry creek, or the back alley of a quiet street.

Finn had severed their bond. Dante had hurt him, had lost control of his wolf. There was nothing he could do to make up for it.

It had been stupid of him, returning to Topanga after five years, finding Finn, expecting Finn to want him back after all he’d done. Hell, Dante had almost killed him. He’d ruined Finn’s leg, given him scars he was ashamed of. He’d given Finn scars on his belly, too, and those pups...

Dante was determined to find work, to earn money, and somehow pass his earnings on to Finn. Even if he couldn’t see Finn, he wasn’t giving up on those pups, or his omega. He’d make sure they had food to eat, had a roof over their heads.

But even as he found odd jobs on the streets around LA, Dante couldn’t help remembering his mate, the way Finn had woken up in the mornings, his eyes hazy with sleep, his lips pulling up in a lazy smile.

He remembered touching Finn’s scars, massaging them, kissing his skin, until Finn forgot about the scars and pain, and knew only Dante.

Walking the streets with only the clothes on his back, Dante realized how little he actually had. How little he could’ve given Finn.

Finn was precious. Dante wanted to give his omega everything in the world. And yet... all Dante had were empty hands, and shoes that were wearing out.

In the months leading up to this, he’d lived with Finn, fitted himself into Finn’s life, working the sawmill and teaching the children. He hadn’t had the chance to build up his own life after leaving the prison—never had much of a life before that, either.

There was living in Finn’s shed, then Finn’s cabin. Then there was the jetty, the grieving haze, and the prison. After that, there had been a few days of drifting, and then sixty-two glorious days with his omega.

Couldn’t stop thinking of Finn as his omega. Dante knew he was supposed to stop. He kept picturing Finn in the forest, Kendrick cutting out Dante’s mark, Finn’s skin falling off his neck, trailing blood.

Maybe Finn would be happier now. Maybe he didn’t mind raising the pups by himself, caring for them, watching as they learned to play and walk.

A deep ache ripped open in Dante’s chest. He trudged down the crowded streets of LA, watching as pedestrians bought vegetables from roadside vendors, avoiding cars, carrying on with their lives.

The vegetable-seller had a home to return to. A pregnant woman pushed a cart, smiling down at her children. A boy hopped alongside Dante for a while, trying to match his strides to Dante’s long legs.

Dante tried to remember the parts of his life before he met Finn. Remembered his father, and being locked up in his room, having no one to talk to. Remembered gnawing on a cold bone, bits of chicken long-digested in his stomach.

Then he remembered meeting Finn, adjusting to a teacher. Finn asking if Dante had enough to eat. Finn peering into the hollow of a tree, his face lit by the afternoon sunlight, asking if Dante liked living in his own den.

Winter had descended shortly after that, and Finn had moved Dante into his shed. He’d given Dante a bed, new pillows and warm blankets.

Dante remembered Finn at the stove, Finn turning his back to Dante, pulling off his shirt. He remembered the sleek, beautiful lines of Finn’s back, the arch of his spine, Finn smiling over his shoulder at Dante.

He’d given Dante his first set of tools, he’d taught Dante to cook soufflés and pancakes. He’d pressed his face against Dante’s throat, his body warm and pliant. For a long time, Dante had known he’d found everything he’d ever wanted.

Finn had been Dante’s entire life.

And now he’d hurt Finn again. He hadn’t even been aware when he’d attacked Finn, made him fall. What if Finn had lost those pups? What if Dante had killed him for real?

Dante looked up, glimpsing a flyer he’d put up for Finn weeks ago, on a public noticeboard next to a bakery. Saplings Woodworking Class. Ages 10-14, Saturdays 1-3 PM. Call or email Finn for hours of weekend fun for your children!

Finn had been smiling when he’d written that. He’d touched his belly, looked up at Dante, sliding the ad copy over so Dante could look at it.

What was Finn doing, now that Dante was gone? Was he happy? Did he miss Dante?

What would Dante even do without an omega?

He imagined the years before himself, plain and loveless. He wasn’t returning to his own pack. Couldn’t live in Topanga. Maybe he could visit Finn and the pups—

His chest ached something fierce.

What would those pups grow up to be like? Would they look like Finn, with his slender limbs and auburn hair? Or would they grow up bulky like Dante, golden-eyed and muscular? Would they call him Dad?

Dante froze by a children’s playground, his breath stuck in his throat. Watched as toddlers ran and shrieked, waving their arms.

His eyes were wet for some reason. He swiped at them, swallowing hard.

Wasn’t like he’d love another omega. Bond or not, his heart had always been Finn’s. Hell, he’d grown up loving his teacher. He’d grown up smelling dill, thinking of Finn as omega, and his.

But what did you do when your love hurt the person you wanted most?

Dante had no answer to that.

He trudged along the sidewalk, perking up when he found a Help Wanted ad.

He had time on his hands, and strength. If Finn ever let him return... Dante wanted to bring his omega things, wanted to prove himself worthy of a place in Finn’s life.

Dante wanted to be more than just good enough, and he had to start from somewhere.

Right now was as good as any a time to try.