The words should have made me more nervous, but instead, they settled something in my chest. Be myself. Not some idealized version, not who I thought they wanted me to be. Just... me.
We stepped back out onto Main Street, the midday sun warm on our faces. I clutched the boutique bag like a lifeline, still processing the fact that I now owned "date clothes" and was actually planning to wear them tonight.
"Want to grab lunch?" Viola asked as she looked over to me. She had a hand on her stomach as I heard a low growl which made me laugh. "There's a sandwich shop?—"
"Daphne." The voice cut through our conversation like ice water, sharp and cold and immediately recognizable. I turned slowly, dread pooling in my stomach.
Trinity stood a few feet away, dressed impeccably as always—designer jeans, a silk blouse, heels that had no business beingon Main Street's uneven sidewalk. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves, her makeup flawless, her expression a carefully crafted mask of false sweetness.
"Trinity," I said, keeping my voice neutral even as my heart rate spiked. Viola's hand found my arm, a silent show of support.
"I didn't expect to see you in town," Trinity grinned, her eyes traveling over me in a way that felt like an assessment. "Shouldn't you be... I don't know, tending your garden? That's what you do, right? Hide away and play in the dirt?"
"I'm shopping," I snapped back, instinctively moving the boutique bag slightly behind me. I didn't want her to see it, didn't want her to guess why I might need new clothes.
"Shopping." Trinity's smile didn't reach her eyes. "How domestic. Though I have to say, I'm surprised you're showing your face in town after that embarrassing scene at the market. Most people would have the decency to lay low for a while."
"The scene you created," Viola interjected, her voice sharp with barely contained anger. "By harassing Daphne in front of everyone."
Trinity's gaze slid to Viola, dismissive and cold. "I don't believe I was talking to you."
"Well, I'm talking to you," Viola shot back, stepping slightly in front of me. "And I'm telling you to back off. Whatever your problem is with Daphne, deal with it somewhere else."
"My problem?" Trinity laughed, the sound brittle and false as her cold eyes locked on me with disgust clear in them and lip curling up. "I don't have a problem with Daphne. I'm simply concerned. You see, she seems to be under the impression that Oliver and his pack are interested in her. And I think someone should let her know that's... unlikely."
My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to speak. "That's not your concern."
"Oh, but it is." Trinity took a step closer, and I could smell her perfume—heavy, cloying, nothing like the natural scents I surrounded myself with. "You see, I've known Oliver for years. I know what he wants, what his pack wants. And trust me, they don't want some antisocial little omega who plays in gardens and can barely string a conversation together."
Each word was designed to hit its mark, to confirm every fear I'd been harboring. That I wasn't good enough, wasn't interesting enough, wasn't worth their time.
"You don't know anything about what they want," I growled lowly, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. "And you certainly don't get to decide what I am or are not capable of."
"I know that Oliver told me—explicitly told me—that they were courting someone," Viola added, her voice carrying a warning. "And that someone isn't you, Trinity. They've made that clear. Multiple times. You need to accept that and move on."
Trinity's mask slipped for just a moment, fury flashing in her eyes before she smoothed her expression back into false sweetness. "They're being polite. Letting you down easy. Oliver's too much of a gentleman to just tell you outright that you're not pack material."
"Did you send her a dead plant?" Viola asked suddenly, her voice hard. "A mysterious package, nasty note attached?"
I felt my eyes widen—I hadn't told Viola I was going to mention that specifically. But she'd clearly been thinking about it, putting pieces together.
Trinity's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Right." Viola pulled out her phone and quickly typed something out before looking back at Trinity, "Because threatening someone isn't illegal or anything. And it definitely wouldn't be interesting to Sheriff Morrison to know that someone's harassing a resident of Haven's Rest."
"I haven't harassed anyone," Trinity said, but there was an edge to her voice now. "If Daphne received something upsetting, that's unfortunate, but it has nothing to do with me."
"Keep telling yourself that," Viola growled, her eyes flashing. "But you should know—the Trent pack knows about it. Daphne's telling them tonight. So if anything else happens, if she receives any more 'mysterious' packages or threats, they'll know exactly where to look."
Trinity's jaw tightened, her carefully maintained composure cracking. "You think they'll actually do anything? Please. They're not going to risk their business reputation over some... nobody who grows vegetables."
"Why don't we let them decide that?" I spoke up, finding courage I didn't know I had. "Since it's their choice to make, not yours." For a long moment, Trinity just stared at me, and I could see the calculation in her eyes—weighing her options, considering her next move. Then her expression shifted into something uglier, more honest.
"You're making a mistake," she muttered quietly, all pretense of sweetness gone. "Oliver and his pack... they're not what you think they are. They're going to hurt you, Daphne. And when they do, don't come crying to me."
"I wouldn't dream of it," I told her, my voice steady despite the racing of my heart. Trinity turned on her heel and stalked away, her expensive heels clicking against the sidewalk with sharp, angry precision. I watched her go, my body trembling with adrenaline I'd been suppressing throughout the entire encounter.
"Holy shit," Viola breathed once Trinity was out of earshot. "You stood up to her. Like, actually stood up to her."
