Page 44 of Hidden Fates

“She wants you there.”

“Onyx is correct,” Quentin tells me. “She will be thrilled to wake up next to you.”

“She needs you,” Emmett adds.

Quentin frowns, meeting Onyx’s eyes behind me. They silently communicate, and the brown-haired Alpha nods before taking Skye upstairs.

“Let’s chat,” Onyx rumbles, steering me to their way-too-comfortable couch. The others join us, their expressions as serious as their pack leader’s.

The tension in the air is oppressive, making it hard to breathe as I sit, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants to hide my nervousness.

“Skye has bond sickness.” Onyx speaks bluntly, the words settling between like an anvil.

I’m missing something.

Bond sickness occurs when bonded mates are forced apart for an extended period. It is extremely dangerous, causing both mates to experience physical and mental side effects. Only closeness and their partner’s scent can cure it.

“What?”

Emmett shakes his head, giving Onyx a bland look. “She doesn’t have bond sickness specifically, but something bond sickness-adjacent. It occurs when one meets their Fate-matched mate, forms the beginning of a bond, and is then separated from them.”

My brain sluggishly churns over his words. She’s sick because she met one of her Fate-matched mates and then they left—Wait, are they saying she is sick because of… me? That leaving eight years ago has physically harmed her?

I can feel the blood draining from my face, nausea churning in my stomach, as Emmett continues, oblivious to the hole he’s gouged in my heart.

Skye is sick.

Because of me.

I hurt her.

Have been hurting her since I left Hollow Anchors.

Eight. Years. Ago.

Nearly an entire Fatesdamned decade.

How she and her pack have allowed me near her again, I don’t know. They should have kicked my ass and tossed me to the curb.

Fingers grip my chin hard, digging in to the point of pain. The touch grounds me long enough to focus on Sterling, whose face is inches from my own. So close his amber eyes glow like pools of molten gold, and I want to drown in them. To hide from what they’re trying to tell me, like the coward I am.

I’m panicking. Lungs struggling to pull in air with the weight of anxiety crushing my chest. “Breathe,” he commands, infusing the barest hint of a bark into the word so I’m forced to inhale deeply.

All I can smell is the charred edge of my regret and the citrusy blend of his scent. And it cuts.

Why is he helping me?

“We weren’t aware Skye’s symptoms were from bond sickness. If we had known, we would have tracked you down sooner. As Emmett said, you also have bond sickness, Caleb.”

Me? They think I have it too? But that’s not… that can’t be true, C an it?

“Let us tell you about Skye’s symptoms,” Sterling says gently, dropping my chin now that I have my breathing under control. Nodding sharply, I force myself to focus. To be present as I learn all the ways I’ve decimated my Omega.

Emmett takes control of the conversation again, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone that makes digesting this easier. “Emotional regulation is the most noticeable. Because our Fated connection is shared emotions, it makes it harder for her to dim what she feels from our bonds.”

“She experiences our emotions a hundredfold,” Bellamy adds, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“Exactly,” Emmett agrees. “Fluctuating heat hormones is another symptom. Both an irregular heat cycle and semi-frequent mini-heats.”