-Ryland Grayson:
"Pops," I said quietly the second he picked up. "I think I fucked up."
The line went silent for half a second before his voice sharpened immediately with concern.
"What happened?"
I dragged a hand through my hair hard enough to tug at the strands, pacing once beside the desk before stopping again. My eyes kept drifting back toward the bed without permission.
Vaughn was still curled into himself under the blanket, knees hugged tightly to his chest, face hidden completely. His shoulders trembled faintly now and then, and every time I looked at him, the guilt in my stomach twisted harder.
"I…" I exhaled roughly. "There's an omega here."
A pause.
"In the camp," I clarified quickly. "There's an omega in the training camp."
Pops went completely silent.
Not confused silence.
More like processing silence.
Then—
"There's an omega in your training camp?" he asked slowly.
