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He spoke of men, guns, and Crescent Rock—the place where Rill and his alphas used to live.
But he also told me about our peoples’ origins.
We’re all monsters, he said, created by men with the sole purpose of murder and destruction.
When the men lost control of us, they locked us away in giant cages to protect the world from our violent natures. None of the cages lasted very long. The alphas and omegas escaped out into the world, and the betas, too weak to survive on their own, were killed.
But in Goldenrod, we stayed. Even more, we created rules so that we didn’t devolve into chaos.
The Order.
If following the Order was all it took, it may have been worthwhile to keep it going. After all, as long as we were well behaved, then the deliveries would keep coming, right? Our lives didn’t have to change.
But unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it. The only reason we’re still here, Wyatt said, is because a man—or a pigeon, as Rill calls them—infiltrated us and posed as our now-deceased Administrator.
Cyrus Beebalm.
He collected data, experimented on my little brother and Camilla’s father, and had some sort of nefarious plans for all of us. Wyatt didn’t want to talk about the specifics, but he told me if I wanted to see what the future could have held for many of Goldenrod’s alphas, I should take a good look at Rill’s scar-riddled body.
It was the day after Beebalm died, just after the council appointed me Administrator, when Wyatt showed up at Sage House and told me all this. Then, he said he needed my help.
“We need to keep this going for as long as we can,” he said gruffly, sitting across from me in the study. “Cami needs to be here for her pregnancy. I know Rill will want the same for Elizabeth.”
Of course, I agreed. This was my family. My community.
And I truly thought I could pull it off. The outside world never needed to know Beebalm was dead—I could figure out how to keep receiving the deliveries and report the status of the Order. How hard could it be?
But then I visited the Administrator’s office, located in Goldenrod’s town hall—the same place where the alpha council congregates.
A heady anticipation thrummed through my veins when I pushed open that heavy wooden door. I was certain I was on the verge of doing something momentous. I’d find the last piece of the puzzle—how to communicate with the outside world—and I would save Goldenrod.
But when I pulled open the door to the office, I was surprised that the only furniture inside was a bare wooden desk and a leather chair in the center of the room. There were no filing cabinets or shelves.
I sat down in the chair and looked at the six deep drawers on either side. Each time I opened one, I sucked in an expectant breath.
Every single drawer was empty.
That’s when I fully grasped that there was nothing I could do. I’m bound to fail, and Goldenrod is bound to fall. Consumed with disappointment, I never went back to that office. And ever since, the thought of the future makes me feel like I’m on the verge of cracking. Any second, I may snap and destroy something … or someone.
Maybe Rill’s right. In my bones, I’m no different from him.
A violent creature.
Instead of doing what everyone thinks—preserving Goldenrod and maintaining the Order—I spend my days seething and worrying at the Sage offices. If I’m going to be sitting around pointlessly, searching for answers where they don’t exist, I may as well do it somewhere that I’m comfortable.
Besides, the Sage office allows a view of Dogwood Street, so I can stare out the large window behind my desk. Watching the people of Goldenrod go about their mundane tasks puts things into perspective.
Today’s another sunny summer day, and light catches on the clean windows and bright smiles of the passersby, making the scene appear glittering and alive.
They’re all so happy, and really, they have no reason not to be. There’s nothing to worry about when your basic needs are met in such a quick, unquestioning manner.
My eyes catch on a group of quiet, gray-clad betas moving through the crowd mechanically. A female’s face darts upward to watch a passing alpha and omega couple in matching yellow outfits.
I study her face, searching for pale blue eyes.
But it’s not her.
I haven’t seen Hetty since I touched her, but I’ve sensed her around the house, going about her duties. Usually, thoughts of her bring me peace, but lately, they’ve left me itchy, hot, and unable to focus.
