"That's funny," Damon said dryly, "because as I recall, we already had a chance to be good together. You're the one that ruined that."

Of course, Damon wouldn't believe that bullshit in a million years. Malachi could wax poetic about how they were fated until the earth exploded and Damon would still think he was insincere – because Malachi always had an ulterior motive. That hadn't changed since they were kids. When tiny, nine-year-old, already popular Malachi sat next to an even tinier, basically invisible Damon at the lunch table at school, it was to weasel Damon's home-baked chocolate chip cookie from him, not to be friends with him. When sixteen, still popular Malachi flirted and told an uninterested sixteen-year-old Damon that his eyes were pretty, it was to make his other omega side-pieces jealous, not to genuinely show interest in him. When twenty-two-year-old asshole Malachi asked Damon, confused about his lack of sexual interest, out, it was to check another omega off his list of conquests. So when twenty-six-year-old Malachi told Damon he wanted to mate with him, Damon knew the reason why wouldn't be anything good for him.

Malachi tapped the steering wheel idly, utterly relaxed. Funny, if Damon were telling someone he'd broken up with that he sincerely wanted to get back together, he'd be shaking so hard he'd probably crash the car. He certainly wouldn't be calm enough to tap along to the murmuring song on the radio.

"That's the problem with you Damon," Malachi began.

And oh boy, was that the wrong way to start off a heartfelt confession.

"You don't give second chances. You hold the people in your life to impossible standards. I mean, take your mom for example. She tries to do what's best for you and you completely shut her out. People make mistakes, Damon. Sooner or later, you're going to have to learn how to trust. Otherwise, you'll end up completely alone."

Damon replied a little distractedly, eyebrows deeply furrowed. "Trust is easier to earn when you keep your dick in your pants."

But Damon wasn't really paying attention to the conversation anymore. How could he? None of this – none of Malachi's actions, expressions, or words – indicated that he gave a single shit about Damon. And yet he was still running his mouth, clearly insincere. And he knew that Damon knew he was insincere. But he was still. Talking. What the hell was the point?

This was all...wrong.

When Damon zoned back in, Malachi was saying something else, but Damon cut him off, turning in his seat to face him.

"Malachi. What do you want from me?"

Malachi opened his mouth, but Damon held up his hand. "No. None of the shit you've been saying for the past twenty minutes. What. The fuck. Do you want from me? Because it sure as hell isn't a loving relationship. Otherwise, you might try, just the tiniest bit, to be a little more convincing. I know you. You can turn the charm on and off at will, and you're not trying even a little right now. What do you want?"

Malachi kept his eyes trained on the road, but Damon watched, with just a smidge of disgusted horror, as his mouth twitched – and then he burst into laughter.

Hm. Maybe Malachi was just – slightly – insane?

When Malachi calmed down, he took a deep breath and looked at Damon briefly, mirth still clear in his eyes. "Think what you want," he said finally. And that was it.

He didn't argue. Didn't defend himself, even half-assedly. Damon felt sick.

They rode in silence for the next few miles. Damon's thoughts wandered back to Jun, who'd probably already woken up, confused, looking for Damon, in heat and with only strangers for company. Damon's hand slowly clenched in the fabric on the chest of his rumpled shirt. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. No need to show a sign of weakness while trapped in a car with king asshole.

Hurts...

Malachi pulled up in front of Damon's parents' house. He could see them waiting on the front steps, his dad cradling his mom under one of his arms. They were probably freaking out after getting a call to let them know their son had been found in jail. Not because he was a criminal, but because he loved one.

Damon watched them for a moment, and hesitated to get out of the car. He didn't care about Malachi. It was easier to face him. But he loved his parents, everything they'd done to upset his relationship with Jun notwithstanding. He just didn't really want to face their disappointment right now.

He glanced back at Malachi, to find Malachi already looking at him with a half-smile – probably taking great pleasure in Damon's utter misery like the sadist he was.

Damon knew there wasn't anything sympathetic left in Malachi, if he'd ever had any in the first place. But for Jun's sake, he would let go of his pride, just this once.

"Withdraw your accusations against Jun," Damon said softly. "Please Malachi. Postpone the trial, at the very least. He's in heat. He can't defend himself right now."

Malachi was quiet for a moment, as if he were actually thinking it over. Damon should have known better than to try.

After less than a minute of "consideration," Malachi tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Hm. Interesting proposal – but no."

Damon briefly imagined a scenario in which he gouged Malachi's eyes out. The flash of rage was sudden – a little jarring, but Damon let it course through him. Anger was the only thing keeping him from bawling his eyes out.

"How kind of you," Damon said, carefully restraining himself enough to avoid yelling, but boy did he want to. "How very generous. Are you even an alpha? Don't you know what he's going through already with his heat? Do you not have any sympathy?"

Curiously, Malachi's half smile disappeared without a trace. Something in his gaze went a little hard. "I don't think you need to concern yourself with what I do or don't have. Go inside, Damon, and forget about your boytoy. He'll be kicked out of pack territory by tomorrow evening."

Damon considered Malachi silently. "I really don't understand you, Malachi," he said, solemn. "You're not doing this for me. You don't seem to be doing it to get back at Jun – and you don't have any reason to hate him in the first place. The only thing you could hate him for is dating me or being better than you in every conceivable way, and we've already established that you don't give a shit about me. So is it jealousy? Because he's a great man, and you're something he would scrape off his shoe? What else could you possibly stand to gain from ruining our lives?"

Malachi answered with silence and a steely gaze. But then, miraculously, he spoke – and for the first time since getting in the car, Damon believed him.

"Go home, Damon. Get in bed and cry your heart out and get over him. You're right, it's not about you. You just happened to be a convenient catalyst. But this is happening no matter what, so do yourself a favor, let your heart break, let yourself grieve, and then find someone new. I've already done you the favor of showing you what heartbreak feels like. It should be easier the second time around."

Damon's hand trembled against the door latch. He could feel his lip trying to follow its example, but firmly bit down on it.

"Then you clearly don't know what it's like to have a heart, or have one break. True, you broke me once. Broke my trust, and any burgeoning feelings I might have had. But breaking up with you was like getting a sliver. It hurt. It hurt like hell, because you got under my skin. But once it was gone, it was like it never happened."

Damon opened the car door and started to step out. "Letting go of Jun, though?" he continued softly. "Jun's in my blood. And there's nothing I could possibly do to flush him out. So no. I won't 'cry my heart out and get over him.' I can't. Do your worst to him, Malachi Reyne. But if you had any respect or care for me as a boyfriend, or just as a childhood friend that you've known your whole life, I want you to keep in mind that everything you're doing to him, you're doing to me too."

"I want you to remember that," Damon continued, fully getting out of the car, "when you've accomplished whatever it is you're hoping to get out of all this. And I want you to think about whether it was worth it."