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Sage House is quiet and dark. After I slam the door behind me, I don’t move right away. Instead, I stand slumped and defeated in the entryway, breathing in the stale air and indulging myself in a bit of emotion.
I’ve only seen Hetty once since the blackout. That’s probably why I confused her with Joanna—she had her hair uncovered that day, hanging down her back in a long braid. The other betas’ hair tends to be darker, and most of them cut it short to make it more conducive to hard work.
Not Hetty, though.
I was in the Sage offices that day. Marcus yammered away on the other side of my desk while I watched out the window. It wasn’t until I felt the sick rush of excitement at the sight of her that I could finally admit how much I’d been waiting for it to happen.
She was unsmiling and serious, weaving down Dogwood Street with a basket full of groceries, her long hair flowing behind her.
There was something different about her that day—not just the hair. I couldn’t put my finger on it until later when I remembered she kept her gaze straight ahead as she walked down the street. While all the other betas kept their eyes downcast, she kept her head up. She may have even made eye contact with a couple of alphas.
No submissive, downcast eyes.
I should find her and apologize for treating her like I did. I know she thinks I disrespected her. Abandoned her. And she’s right…
But I could have killed her that night.
My hands on her body, her heart and heat pounding against my chest; it was like all my scruples and every single brain cell I had disappeared.
If something would have happened to her…
“You’re home early.”
I jump away from my thoughts, embarrassed heat rising inside me at being caught in such a state. Rubbing the back of my neck, I watch as my mother delicately makes her way down the shadowed stairs.
Even with the lack of electricity and water, she looks much the same as she always did. Pressed silk dress. Not a hair out of place. Impeccable make-up.
It’s impressive. I still haven’t figured out how she’s pulling that off without a single beta here to tend to her needs. When I asked her about it last week, she frowned at me in disappointment.
“Believe it or not, I do know how to dress myself, Noah.”
I shrugged it off. I’ve never even seen her make a piece of toast, so how was I supposed to know she could dress herself?
“How did it go?” she asks now, meeting me in the darkened entryway.
“Fine.” I lift a shoulder.
There’s a pregnant pause as she waits for me to continue—fat chance.
Finally, I clear my throat and mutter, “Pardon me.”
I brush past her toward the kitchen. Heading straight to the pantry, I rummage around the bare shelves for the bottle of whiskey I stored here yesterday afternoon.
“That’s all you’re going to say?” she bites out from behind me.
When I turn around, she’s standing in a ray of light shining in from the window above the sink, dust moats floating around her.
“What else do you want to hear?” I ask, walking to the counter and finding last night’s glass among the dirty dishes spread out on the counter. After I fill it up halfway with whiskey, I turn to find her watching me, obviously annoyed with my lack of transparency.
“I wouldn’t have to ask if I could just go into town and see for myself,” she says sulkily, her hands fisted at her side.
I sip my whiskey, enjoying the burning sensation in my throat before I choke out a bitter laugh. “No. That’s a bad idea.”
Now, that’s not a lie. Never has the name Isolde Sage carried more fury in Goldenrod as it does now.
She releases a frustrated noise and stomps her foot. “I didn’t kill Tansy, Noah. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that.”
It’s funny, but I believe her. She’s never been one to conceal her bad deeds, so she should have no reason to hide it if she killed Tansy, right? And she’s been adamant from day one that she’s innocent, stressing that Tansy died of the beta’s sickness.
