Micajah's PoV:

"We'll Egg Daemon's Bugatti,"

Shock.

I don't know if I can describe this emotion with any other word.

I don't know if it was seconds or minutes later, but suddenly, the door flies open, and Seneca rushes in like she just discovered that there's an apocalypse about to break out in 5 minutes. I see that asshole Daemon following her in my peripheral vision, and distinctly register him trying to ask his Mate what happened.

"What's wrong!? Cage, are you alright!?" Seneca is a flurry of activity, alternating between checking my rapidly beeping heart-monitor and my paralyzed self, yelling for the doc in the process. Her panic and anxiety hits me like a tidal wave, but I can't—not for my lack of trying—do anything in this situation except revel in the new information I'd just received.

I rip my eyes away from my tear-streaked best friend's face, meeting my Mate's worried gray ones that are looking into my eyes with compassion and worry that makes my heart clench, finally pulling me out of the astonished haze.

And the next few minutes seems like a scene right out of a movie.

Because it doesn't take Seneca longer than 3 seconds to look into my eyes and know exactly what happened, because I didn't exactly put a block in the link between us.

And then like someone just hit the slow motion button of the universe, I watch helplessly as the grays of her eyes ignite with a flame, turning into a blue so cold it rivals the color of the deepest seas. Her fangs gleam white as her lips pull back in a sneer—a smile so sadistic, and unexpected—because I'd thought her next response would be a scowl; an outbreak of rage.

But instead, it was this . . . this callously wicked grin.

Which I feel is worse that a glare. "S-Seneca?"

And I see the Alpha Seneca I'd gotten a glimpse at when she's in control, an Alpha who's ruthlessness won her the power to rule over a Pack as big as ours.

In the next millisecond, before I could anticipate that my Alpha might do what she does next, she pounces on top of Nora, lithe as a lioness going after its prey, and the two of them land on the floor as the dingy chair gives out.

And then I feel her rage—and almost as if things finally fall right, the world comes back to normal speed again.

"Seneca, no!"

My plea falls on deaf ears, and that's when her passively vicious mask slips, revealing an Alpha pissed, and a growl so ominous and so proprietorial that it almost shakes the room, rips from the Wolf that has now taken over the body of my Mate. I make an attempt to move, but the pain that shoots from my midriff blurs my vision, and the various needles hooked to my body makes it impossible to move.

I register the deeper and more sinister version of Seneca's voice, a voice that can command a thousand people with the confidence and regality of a Queen, claim something along the lines of "Mine!", before Daemon grabs ahold of her shoulders, trying to rip her off his Mate. It's almost a task unfeasible, because Seneca is a woman on a mission, a mission that might end with the blood of Lenora Isabelle Andrews spilled on the pristine white floors of the hospital room, if someone doesn't stop this right now.

Thankfully, the doctors and nurses choose that moment to file in, followed by a perturbed Ezra, who doesn't hesitate a moment before he jumps into the tangle of limbs on the floor, and my shoulders sag in relief.

It seems like drama and I have a steady relationship going on.

I shake my head, dropping it into my palms.

* * *

A few minutes later, Ezra finally succeeds in pulling off a still trembling Seneca, who's shooting daggers with her eyes across the room, where Nora is standing, trembling for a whole different reason, wrapped in the arms of her Alpha Mate. The doctors had been ushered out as well, giving us a little more privacy.

Daemon places a placating kiss on her forehead, and she nods after a moment, finally leaving his arms to take a step in my direction.

Seneca almost jumps her again, and I'm thankful to her Beta for pinning her in place with a stare that could melt a glacier.

'Please, Seneca, I have to talk to her. You know that I'm yours.'

Her head snaps to me at my silent message, and the hardness in her eyes melts away slightly, as her body uncoils a little, 'What would you have done if someone whom I love, platonically of course, proposes their undying devotion to me?' One brow goes up as she assesses my reaction, which embarrassingly enough is a growl that breaks free before I can reign it in.

'That's what I thought,' She snaps victoriously, smirking.

'Okay, you can stay. Just, please. Calm down.' I relent, coaxing her with my eyes.

She nods.

I give her a small lopsided grin, and turn to my left, meeting the emerald eyes I know better than my own. She swallows and walks to the edge of my bed, sitting on its foot beside the broken chair which still lays on the floor.

"Tell me." I prod, urging her with my eyes. She nibbles on her upper lip in nervous fashion, a habit that after all these years she still hasn't managed to stop.

"I—I was always in love with you, Mike. That's the truth. At least, I thought I was in love with you,"

My best friend was in love with me.

Was. Not is.

A small part of me notices her usage of past tense.

How did I not notice it before?

She meets my eyes, twisting her hands as she quickly looks away, "But I knew you didn't like me more than a friend, and, I-I knew that if I tried anything with you, I might lose you as a friend."

"No, I would have never stopped being your friend—"

"I know," She interrupts, rolling her eyes, "I know you wouldn't have abandoned me, but I also know you might've forced yourself to act like you like me to spare my feelings, or never given your Mate a chance out of guilt." She quirks a brow with a rueful grin, and I open my mouth to oppose her point.

Would I have done that?

The answer is pretty easy.

Yes, I would've definitely done that.

I close my mouth, nodding as my shoulders sag in defeat.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Mike. It wasn't your fault. You are a great friend, and you did everything a good friend can do and much more. All those times you faced Chance's cronies for me, taking the blame for every mistake I do, protecting me in every single way possible, how could I not love you?"

I feel like I was betrayed somehow, when I know very well that I have no right to feel like that.

She shakes her head, a faraway look in her eyes, "But then you met your Mate, and I was crushed. I felt like my world was pulled from underneath me, because I admit it, I was insecure, I didn't think you'd still be my friend. And that day, the day you met Alpha Seneca, was the same day I met my Mate."

I gape at her, stunned beyond words.

"B-but—"

"Yes, Daemon Black waltzed into my world and turned everything upside down." She shares a small grin with the asshole himself, turning to meet my gaze steadily, "Unfortunately, my meeting with him didn't go as I'd planned all my life. He did like me, and never once lied about it, but the huge problem was his enmity towards your Mate, which was the reason for everything I did. The bastard actually manipulated me," Her jaw clenches, as she swallows, "He made me believe that your Mate was such an evil person, and I had to do everything in my power to come between you two." She looks at me with helpless eyes, pleading me to understand.

I inhale sharply in disbelief.

"I couldn't do much, though I—I knew your weak points." She wets her lips, looking down in shame, "And I helped him—helped him to create small dents in your armor, trying to guilt you with everything I could—and the worst part is, I believed I was doing something good to you, y'know?"

Words fail me, because there isn't a single thing that my mind is able to process except the fact that my best friend conspired against me.

She did everything to separate me and my soulmate.

Nausea crawls up my throat, and my fingers clench involuntarily as I struggle to maintain my composure.

It's then I realize that a small part of me had always believed Nora when she'd come and told me that her Mate had threatened to reject her.

I'd hoped that all that had happened was because she had no choice, because she was coerced to do so.

But now . . . is she even telling the truth now?

When I look up at her with accusation clear in my eyes, Nora flinches, shrinking back, "No, Mike. I see the look in your eyes, I promise, I'm telling the truth!"

"How could you, Nora? No matter what she is, or however you might think she is, she's still my SoulMate! The person chosen by the Goddess herself as my life partner! How could—"

"I'm so sorry, Mike! Please—"

I sigh, dropping my head into my hands as I rock back and forth, trying to comprehend it all.

"It's . . . " I exhale, the breath whooshing out of my lungs roughly, "It's fine, Lenora . . . please, just give me some time—I-I can't talk to you like this, and the worst part of it all?" I look up, my eyes unguarded as I let her glimpse at the raw betrayal eating at my insides, "I still feel guilty that I stopped fighting for us, for giving up on our friendship, because I love you, Lenora, you were the only real family I had, growing up."

Tears well in her eyes, as she blinks fast, trying to hold them in. She nods rapidly, standing up from the cot with shaking legs as she spins around, but I don't see her exit, because my eyes fall close as my forehead touches my palm.

I feel a smooth hand rub down my back as a weight settles close to me on my right, and then the hand goes to my waist as she hugs me close, leaning her head on my shoulder. I turn to the comfort she's offering, pulling her closer as I wrap my arms around her waist, letting my head rest on her shoulder as I close my eyes.

"It's okay, Cage. We'll egg Daemon's Bugatti."

I chuckle at that, despite everything that just happened.

Sometimes, no, scratch that, it's always awesome to have a Mate.

* * *

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