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I’m a near penniless orphan with an abusive grandmother and enough smarts to get me a scholarship for university next year. Though Jackson has told me they’ll pay for anything I need once I’m pack. Including my education.
No one pays us any attention when we step through the doors. I don’t mind so much. I’m used to it. Right now I’m nothing. Just an unpresented teenager who follows around the Werth pack. Honestly, I won’t care if no one recognizes me after I’m part of their pack. I’m not in this for the money, fame or notoriety. I don’t want people to know my name upon sight.
I’m just in it for love.
My grandmother is an entirely different matter.
She huffs next to me, indignation dripping from every pore. She grumbles something under her breath that I can’t make out, and then starts dragging me forward. Because that is what she does.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize her destination. A stage on the far side of the room, decorated in white and pink roses, flowy draped sheer white fabric and fairy lights. It’s romantic as hell, and my stomach does another of those excited flops, only to stall out mid flip.
My body grinds to a halt as my breath seizes in my lungs. My grandmother is right there with me. Her eyes focused on the scene on the stage, just like mine are. Incredulity bleeds from her, while I’m just… in pain.
My grandma’s nails bite into my upper arm, so hard she breaks my skin with those pointy, claw-like nails filed to a point. “What did you do, Sylvie? How did you fuck this up?”
I don’t know what to say. Don’t have the answer, and even if I did, I don’t think I could have given voice to the words. Not when it feels like my heart and my stomach and a frog are all lodged behind my collarbone, choking off my air.
I shake my head, tears forming as I watch Jackson loop his arm around Yasmin Forsyth’s waist. Watch as Davis laces his fingers with hers. Asher stands behind her, gaze focused on her neck, like he can’t wait to sink his teeth into it. Topher brushes a kiss to her cheek and Ford smiles at her. Ford doesn’t smile at anyone but me.
Yasmin says something, a pretty flush covering her cheeks, and they all laugh.
My pack is on the stage with the perfect omega, the one Jackson told me I had nothing to worry about, beaming at her like she’s the center of their universe, like… like they love her.
But that can’t be right, because they love me.
They told me. Over and over again, they’ve told me they love me.
It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything.
The words are a litany in my head, repeated like a prayer. If I think it enough maybe it will be true.
My grandma is still hissing at me, demanding to know what I did. But I didn’t do anything. This morning they told me they wanted me. They promised we’d be together. This morning I woke up next to Jackson, and they held me and kissed me and told me they would always pick me.
I believed them.
This doesn’t mean anything.
But then Mr. Werth is standing next to them, beaming. He lifts his voice and the room quiets. “Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate with us. I can’t tell you how proud I am that my sons, Jackson and Davis, and their pack have found their omega.” He looks right at me as he says it and for one crazy moment, I think he’s going to say my name. He’s going to say I’m their omega. But then his mouth curls into a smug smile, pleased beyond belief. “Yasmin Forsyth.”
My stomach bottoms out and my vision flickers as my lungs seize entirely. A high pitch keen sounds from somewhere nearby, full of pain.
My grandma’s nails dig in deeper. A rivulet of blood slides down my arm, over my promise ring, and drips onto the floor. At that moment, all of them look at me, all five of the boys that were supposed to be mine. Most of them look surprised to see me, like they hadn’t expected me to come. Jackson looks… grim. So fucking grim, but not surprised.
He knew.
“Stop,” my grandmother hisses at me, dragging me away. “Stop that incessant whining at this moment. You’ve embarrassed me enough.”
Whine? Is that noise coming from me? Am I making it?
Jesus. I think I am.
I try to stifle it, but can’t. It won’t stop. My heart is breaking and my mostly asleep omega needs to let the world know.
She yanks me through the party, into the hall, and out to the front porch. The whole time I cry and whine, while she hisses at me about how I failed, how I will never be good enough, how I’m worthless to her now. Wasted.
On the gravel drive, she jerks me around until I’m in front of her. There’s a sharp sting on my cheek and the whine cuts off abruptly. It doesn’t stop her from slapping me again, making my ears ring. I know there are people watching, probably filming my massive breakdown.
I keep waiting for one of my guys to come out, to tell me this is a mistake.
