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The sight of him causes a surge of power to move through me as I jump to my feet, effortlessly breaking free from his pressure.
His face twists in surprise as he takes a step back, his feet crunching the wet ground.
“I wanted to rescue Hetty before I killed you.” My voice is rough from the fall as I crack my knuckles, glaring at him. “But I guess it’ll have to be the other way around.”
47
Special Delivery
Hetty
This Marcus alpha sure likes to hear himself talk. I almost forget that he wants to kill me as he yammers on endlessly.
I’m not the only one who’s bored, I think, watching the crowd.
The more he drones on, alphas shift on their feet, obviously disappointed with the lecture, their omegas leaning into them, yawning loudly. Even the children have lost the excitement from when they first arrived. Most of them are slouching drowsily or curled into sleepy little balls on the ground at this point.
I guess if I dragged myself out of my bed in my pajamas, I’d be falling asleep on my feet, too.
The only ones who don’t look bored out of their minds are betas, standing ramrod straight, watching and listening to Marcus patiently.
I suppose a beta is used to this type of thing, though. Performing tasks that they’d rather not. Listening to words that mean nothing to them.
At one point, while Marcus is explaining the story of the Golden Alpha and how he saved our people from barbarism and death, I catch sight of Min’s face in the crowd.
My heart jumps at the sight of her, but she doesn’t react right away. Instead, she holds my gaze stoically for several seconds before glancing meaningfully at Isolde and shaking her head slowly.
I told you, she mouths. Witch.
I look away quickly, my cheeks burning hot.
If only Stella and I had gotten to her earlier, we could be leading her through the fence right at this very moment.
We’d all be safe. Heading back to camp.
But the longer I stare out at faces decorating the crowd—the complacent betas, the entitled alphas, and the loyal omegas—the more unlikely it seems that any effort to get them out would have worked.
They were never going to leave, I realize, especially not the betas.
It was hard enough getting Cleo, Beth, and the others out. And the only reason that worked is because they knew me. Trusted me. These other Goldenrod betas probably don’t even know my name.
Would they really have forsaken the Order and their alpha because I asked them to?
No, they wouldn’t.
The thought causes a sour feeling to settle in my gut as I stare into the distance, searching the brightening horizon for Noah. I can sense him nearby, but just barely.
If I ever see him again, I think as tears swell in my eyes, I’ll admit he was right about the betas. I was wrong, I’ll tell him, straight to his face as I beg his forgiveness.
For a second, I almost think I see him—his familiar scowl intermixed with the sea of faces. But then Marcus begins explaining why Isolde is a witch who’s doomed us all to a life of punishment, and I find myself distracted.
Tuning into what he’s saying, I almost wish I hadn’t.
“When they get here, we’ll burn the witch!” He yells more, but the rest of his words are swallowed by the furious screams of the crowd.
I pull back, surprised at their reaction. Shocked how quickly they transformed from boredom to deafening rage.
It was the word witch—it did something to them. All so suddenly, they’re enraged. My eyes flick over their faces as they press forward, jumping and screaming. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to what Marcus was saying.
