All about control

promises are broken like stitches (may)

The only thing Liam hears in the silence of his room is his own heartbeat, pounding against his ribs. He is alone, again, the chimera's scent long since stale and his truck absent from the driveway. He knew he shouldn't have fallen asleep. His hand aches and the paper begins to tear from how hard he's gripping it. Theo left.

Theo left him .

He unclenches his fingers, not wanting to completely destroy the paper before he even reads the words left for him. But, why bother? He already knows what it says. For all his brains and ability to outthink most people, Theo is painfully predictable. If there was a bullet heading for anyone in the pack, their newest resident reformed murderer would inevitably use his own damn body as a shield.

The sun is starting to rise now, casting his room in a light glow that feels aggressively too bright for the beta's current state. He's been sitting on the edge of his bed for hours now, unmoving in his silent rage. He knows he should get up, get ready to be greeted by his pack, but he can't bring himself to think past the emptiness in his chest.

He tries to level his breathing, counting his inhale and exhales, but as soon as he stops, his lungs spasm in his chest and he has to start over. Wolves waking to one of their own in the throes of a panic attack is not something he wants to be on this side of. He has seen it more than he wants to admit the last few years.

Biting out a frustrated groan, his fingers tap at his thigh, the same rhythmic way he knows helps. But as he tries to settle into it, the coil in his chest winds tighter, his wolf's snarl a whisper in his ear. Something about the rhythm is off, and that only frustrates him more. It's the same thing as when he tried to leave first. Without the familiar heartbeat to go off of he just can't get it right.

His anchor isn't here. He left.

Liam squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a shaky breath. It does almost nothing to calm the slow simmering rage of his wolf. The only things that have ever helped subdue his animal within are Theo and pushing his body till something breaks – whether it be what he's using as a stress valve or himself. With neither of his tried and true methods available, he settles for stifling it as best he can by sheer force of will.

His pack needs him clear headed and focused. If Theo keeps putting him second, then he can do that too. The bastard can wait for now.

With one more pointless tap to his leg, he opens his eyes to his empty room and stands. He sways, catching himself on the dresser, legs weak beneath him. A couple shaky steps later and he's standing with his back pressed into the drawers, glaring at the letter in his hand. Again his wolf jostles beneath his skin, leaving an itch in the wake of its anger, and Liam can barely suppress the urge to rip the paper into a hundred tiny pieces.

Instead, he makes careful work of folding it neatly along the pre-folded ridges. His front left pocket becomes the thing's home, not daring to taunt the universe by leaving it out for anyone else to find. That is the last thing he needs.

He's getting ready to head down the stairs when his phone chimes. Dread swamps through him as he reaches for the device. He taps on the screen, shutting it off with trembling fingers. Setting an alarm for an hour before Scott arrives had seemed like a good idea the night before. Rather than instilling excitement or comfort, as he thought it would, it stops him short of the door. His free hand flies out, gripping the frame, blunt nails digging into the wood, trying to physically ground and keep himself upright as his knees threaten to buckle again. His alpha  – the pack's alpha –  is coming back and it's all because of him. Him and his inability to handle anything like the adult he nearly is. If the real adults actually trusted him, deemed him adult enough to be looped in on all the information, he might have been able to help, to stop this train wreck from starting again.