We walked up to Soren. He was deep in conversation with a small group of other omegas near a partially scorched information kiosk, pointing at a map and gesturing toward the tree line. He looked every bit the leader he was.
"Soren," Jamie called.
Soren held up a single finger without looking away from the map. "Give me a second." His voice was clipped, all business. He finished giving instructions, nodded at the omegas, and they dispersed.
He turned, blowing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "Gosh, I'm—" His sentence died as his eyes landed on me. His sharp gray gaze flickered with pure surprise. He looked at Jamie, then back at me, his brow furrowing. "Holland?"
"Hi," I waved, offering a small, tentative smile.
"What the hell is going on?" he asked, his voice low.
Jamie launched into a rapid, earnest explanation, the misunderstanding at Liberty Hall, my tears, his panic and the car conversation. He ended with a sincere, "We messed up. We're sorry."
