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Summary
“You fucking should be. Almost a decade, fucking with me. I risked my career. Watched you fuck your way through Omegas. Tolerated your hot and cold bullshit. Kept it casual. Held you when you cried about your bitch father. You tugged my Omega back up to the surface, and when I’m about to offer you my heat, you break up with me?”
It hurts to hear - it's agonising, really. Ilya has never felt more like a piece of shit. This is why he left when he could. Before he shackled himself to Shane’s leg and dragged him down into the pits of hell. He’d done it now. Broken something in Shane.
“I am not a good Alpha,” Ilya whispers, utterly gutted.
“No, you aren’t.” Shane agrees. It’s like a knife to the chest. Ilya would rather wake up for the next ten years to his mother's corpse than feel how he does now. At least he could delude himself into thinking Irina wasn’t his fault. Who can he blame for this? He can’t help crying, but he tries to keep it quiet; he isn’t trying to make Shane pity him.
“But you’re mine,” Shane whispers, “So I’ll fix you.”