The room stills, breath held tight in every chest. Then, slowly, Autry nods. Myrick’s mouth falls open.
“There’s no way,” he whispers, hand coming up to cover his lips. “You…killedsomeone?”
Another nod. This one smaller. Quieter. She looks like she wants to disappear, folding into herself inch by inch.
“Words, omega,” I say gently, reaching for her cup of tea. She doesn’t resist, her hands falling open as I take it. “It’s time to tell us how you got to the Morder.”
I’ve wondered since the day we met. I thought that maybe she’d share when she felt safe. A few years from now,maybe. But we don’t have that kind of time anymore. Not if someone’s coming for her.
“It’s okay.” Charlie wraps his arms around her shoulders. “You’re safe here. You can tell us anything.”
Autry sucks in a deep breath, then tips her head back. Tears already cling to her lashes, but she doesn’t make us wait any longer.
“Do you remember that alpha I told you about?” she glances at Myrick. “Tallen?”
Myrick speaks up, “The one that stalked you and tracked down your parents?”
Autry mumbles a yes, and my body goes tight.
“He did what?” Oli growls as he inches closer, rage rolling off of him.
“Sit down,” I order the young alpha, pointing to the armchair in the corner of the room. “Let her talk.”
Oli’s jaw flexes, but he does as he’s told, pulling the chair right up to the edge of the nest.
Autry takes a moment, sucks in a deep breath, steadying herself, then she tells us about meeting Tallen Montgomery at Beechworth. She shares how he always felt off and controlling. About how the school scared her parents into mating her off, and how Tallen tracked them down.
“He was always nice to me when I met him at the academy’s events, but there was something dark within him that I could just feel.” Autry’s gaze fixates on a small pink pillow. “And then I went home for a holiday weekend, and he was there…waiting for me.”
Six Months Ago
Autumn
The car speedsdown the isolated road, the countryside blurring past the window in long, sun-drenched streaks of green and gold. It’s the first warm day in weeks, and the fields leading up to my parents’ home are filled with tall grass and lush wildflowers. The kind I used to press between the pages of my textbooks when I was younger. It’s so pretty.
I’m lucky that I get to go home sometimes.
Most omegas at Beechworth stay behind during the long holidays, stuck in the dorms while their families travel. But not me. My parents live close enough to be granted an exception from time to time. The academy board says I’m “safe” to go home—probably because my parents' place is tucked out here in the hills, far from anything loud or dangerous.
When the car finally pulls to a stop in front of their little house, the beta driver steps out and opens my door with a warm smile. He’s older, maybe in his fifties, withlaugh lines around his eyes and a voice that makes me wonder if he used to smoke.
“Have fun, Miss Autumn,” he says kindly, offering me a hand I don’t need, but I accept anyway. “I’ll be back in two days, same time.”
“Thanks, Mr. Harlan,” I say, brushing off my skirt.
He hesitates, giving me a look that straddles the line between paternal and professional. “Remember—this is a good area.Butthere are still some unsavory types who wouldn’t think twice about going after an unmated omega. So no wandering off, understood?”
I roll my eyes, grinning. “I’ll be good. I promise I won’t leave the house.”
“Good girl,” he says with a relieved sigh before climbing back behind the wheel. Then the car pulls away, leaving me in the silence of my home.
I step through the front door, and every nerve in my body releases.
The scent hits me first—lavender and vanilla with a trace of worn wood and lemon polish.Home. Nothing ever changes here: the creaky floorboard by the umbrella stand, the slightly crooked picture frame above the coat rack, the hallway runner with the stain from the hot chocolate incident from when I was nine.
It’s not a big house, but it’s cozy—warm walls painted soft yellow, thick curtains that my mother changes every season, and shelves crowded with knickknacks, cookbooks, and framed memories.
There are photos of me everywhere. Baby pictures. Dance recitals. Awkward middle school shots. My notification letter I received from the academy right after I presented as an omega is framed and hung right in the hallway. My parents act like it’s an achievement that I gotto go to Beechworth, and not a requirement by law. As much as I adore my parents, sometimes this house feels more like a shrine than a home. It’s like the whole place shouts, “look how loved she is!” the moment anyone steps inside.
