“And I meant what I said,” I add, voice a little huskier than I’d like. “Scars don’t make you less beautiful. They make you unforgettable.”
And even though I know she’s not mine—won’teverbe mine—I swear I see her gaze drop to my lips for a second too long.
And that’s all it takes for my mind to wander.
Does she like me?
Autry gives me a flirty look and opens her mouth to saysomething—but the front door creaks open, and she snaps her jaw shut like she’s been caught stealing. The fear in her eyes is immediate, sharp and cold, like a bucket of ice water. It makes my chest ache.
“Mr. Pullson,” comes a voice that could slice glass.
I don’t have to look. I know who it is.
Angelica.
I glance at the clock. 10 a.m. Right on schedule.
“Good morning, ma’am,” I say, turning to face the she-alpha as she steps into Dr. Plume’s office. She’s all sharp angles and power—her gaze sweeping the room like a searchlight.
She’s in full intimidation mode today. Black hair draped over one shoulder, bright crimson lips, and a gray pantsuit that fits like it was stitched directly onto her body. There’s no shirt beneath the blazer—only a plunging neckline and the kind of confidence that makes even the most intimidating alphas shrink back.
“Where is Dr. Plume?” she asks flatly, her pale blue eyes landing briefly on me, then drifting toward the triage room.
“He’s with a new patient. A young male omega came in this morning. He’s in critical condition.”
“A male?” Angelica’s top lip curls.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She steps further inside the room, her heels clicking across the hardwood like a countdown. “And who is this?” Her voice sharpens as she stops in front of Autry. “What’s your name, omega?”
Autry doesn’t answer.
She’s frozen. Shoulders rigid, eyes glued to the floor. Her chin tips downward in a clear show of submission. I can see her hands trembling where they rest against her lap.
“This is Autry,” I answer, hating that she can’t speak for herself but knowing exactly why she can’t.
Autry mumbles a fragile, barely audible, “Hello,” still not lifting her head.
“Such a pretty omega,” Angelica purrs, and my entire body tenses. Her gaze drags over Autry like she’s inspecting fruit for bruises. Then her piercing blue eyes turn to me.
While alphas don’t have the same effect on betas as they do on omegas, they still make me anxious. They’re too intense for me. Too aggressive.
I was raised by a single beta mother. I went to an all-beta school and have always worked in fields that aren’t known to attract alphas. I really only see them once in a while at the grocery store or in line at the bank. And even then, I try to avoid them.
“Is she one of the girls coming to the Morder today?” Angelica asks me.
I force a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes narrow in approval, like she’s mentally assigning Autry a price tag.
“Has anyone talked to her about what will happen at the market?” Angelica asks.
“I don’t think so.” I crouch a little so I can see Autry’s face. Her hazel eyes are wide and watery. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek like it might help her hold herself together. “Has Mrs. Danner explained anything yet?”
Autry shakes her head, rubbing her scar like it’s a prayer bead.
Angelica takes one step closer. “Omega,” she says in that low, commanding tone that all alphas are born with. Autry flinches, then immediately lifts her head. She can’t help it. None of them can.
