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But when I glance around, there are only strangers.
They’ll come. They’ll come. They’re my pack, they won’t just leave me.
My omega is torn between pain so deep it’s a raw aching wound and hope that everything they told me is still true. I wish I still had that hope, but I know without them having to explain it, without my grandma hissing it at me right now, I know I gave them what they wanted and now they’re done with me.
“I should have known you’d fuck this up,” my grandma, my only family left in the world, curses at me, dragging me after her again. “Coming home this morning smelling like sex and cum. You’re a little whore who couldn’t keep her legs closed long enough to make sure they would pick you. And now look at you. Worthless. Nothing.”
She shoves me into the backseat of the car, and I suddenly snap to awareness. “I can’t leave,” I cry, fighting against her, trying to get out of the car. “I can’t leave. They’ll be looking for me.”
She hits me again. Hard enough that my ears ring, but I still hear her denial. “No, they won’t. You’re nothing but garbage to them now.”
I shake my head and try to push out again, but she shoves me hard. So hard my head whacks against the door frame and I black out for a moment. When my vision clears, the car is moving at a fast pace away from the Werth Pack house.
I lunge for the door handle, not sure what exactly I’m planning on doing. Throw myself out of a moving vehicle wearing a cocktail dress? It doesn’t matter anyway because when I yank on the handle, nothing happens. Fucking child safety locks.
“I should have known you’d mess this up, Sylvie. You’re just as worthless as your mother,” my grandmother growls from behind the steering wheel, slamming her hand against it. “I needed you to do one fucking thing.”
A whimper pulls from my chest. This is too much. All of this is too fucking much. My heart is breaking and I’m trying like hell to stop the cracks with the reassurance they gave me this morning, with their words of love, but if they love me, if they actually wanted me, they wouldn’t do this.
They wouldn’t announce claiming an omega that isn’t me. One that hates me. Even if they think I’m going to be a beta for the rest of my life, they have to know Yasmin won’t let me in her pack. I wouldn’t want to, even if she would.
“Get out,” my grandmother’s voice breaks through the fog in my head, and I blink up at her, with tears still streaming down my cheeks.
“Why did you take me away?” I choke out. “I needed to talk to them. There has to be a reason-”
She reaches into the back seat and I’m not fast enough to avoid the tight grip of her hand again. “The reason is that they don’t want you, Sylvie. They picked a better omega, because you fucked it up. My one chance.” She shakes me so hard my teeth rattle. “And you ruined it.”
I whimper the entire way into the house, where she shoves me into the livingroom, onto the couch. “Stay,” she snarls at me like she’s an alpha barking at me. But it doesn’t matter. I do stay right where I am, with my fingers curled like claws over my knees as she strides to the bar on the far side of the room and drinks deep from the bottle of vodka she always keeps there.
“They’ll come,” I say, trying to reassure myself and her in the same breath. “They’ll come and they’ll explain it. It’ll be okay.”
She scoffs and shakes her head. “They let you know they didn’t want you in the most public way they possibly could, Sylvie. The most humiliating way.” She turns to face me, and I draw back. Jesus, Gladys Benson seems to have aged at least twenty years in the last few minutes. That youthful glow she’s been holding onto is gone, replaced by this bitter, wrinkled old woman. “When you left them this morning, did they tell you about this? Give you any warning?”
Tears fill my eyes and that is answer enough for her. They didn’t tell me about this, didn’t give me a warning. Is she right? Was this their way of telling me about them choosing someone else? Was this their way of breaking it off for good?
No. No. They love me.
They love me.
I’m pack.
They told me I’m pack.
“You still think they’re coming?” My grandmother sneers, shoving her phone at me.
I look down at the screen, at the gossip article with a picture of the younger Werth Pack—my pack—surrounding Yasmin Forsyth, looking handsome and proud to be standing next to her. I barely notice the headline: Werth Pack Claims Omega of Worth. Stupid, cheesy line.
I scroll down, eyes flicking over the article that goes on and on about Yasmin’s accomplishments at the Omega Academy, her family history, how gentle and poised she is, how she’s the perfect omega. I stall over the next picture. It’s me, clearly losing my mind. Tears streaming down my face in black streaks as my grandmother digs her nails into my skin, making red rivulets run down my arm. I look deranged, like she’s holding me back from doing something crazy, like attacking the woman being welcomed into my spot.
When asked about Sylvie Benson, the Werth Pack had this to say, “she’s a sweet girl. But the Werth pack needs someone more stable than she is, someone with poise and better pedigree. The events of the night proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sylvie Benson is not that.”
Yasmin Forsyth extended her sympathies to the young woman. “I hope she gets the help she so clearly needs, poor thing. She’s been following my pack around for so long, determined to force them to claim her when everyone knows they’ve been courting me for years.”
They’ve been courting her for years? For how many years? For as long as they’ve been courting me? Longer?
I think about Jackson this morning, how when I’d asked him about Yasmin, about how they’d been spending so much time with her, why they’d been spending so much time with her, he’d kissed my forehead and told me his father was making them. Then he’d closed his eyes and told me she wasn’t anything to worry about. That he loved me, that they loved me.
I should have known.
