“You don’t have to be, little one.” This time, when he brushed my face, his touch was mockingly tender. I jerked my head away. “That’s entirely your choice. If you choose to be helpful, you’ll enjoy all the privileges of our family. But if you choose not to… Well, you’ve seen another way an Omega could be useful to me.”
Domenic raised an eyebrow at me, and I did feel a rush of fear then. But he was bluffing. Right?
“I’ll let you think about it, hm?”
I didn’t respond. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t earn me another bruise. And I was sick of him looking at me like I was a tasty morsel he wanted to devour.
“Marco will be just outside if you need anything,” Domenic said before they filed out, leaving me alone.
I spent the next ten minutes systematically checking the room for anything useful. A forgotten cell phone would have been wonderful, but I knew that was impossible. I’d never had a phone of my own until I left for the Center. The window with its sagging lace curtains was painted shut, and even if I had been able to open it, it would have been a two-story drop to the pavement.
The closet loomed on the edge of my vision, like a nightmare. But after avoiding it as long as I could, I had no choice but to check inside. I stood in front of it, the old panic creeping in, and traced the white wooden slats with my eyes.
I tore the door open.
There was the same worn quilt to pad the floor, and I could imagine the feeling of it underneath me. I ducked down and peered into the corners, choking back my instinctive panic, and thinking maybe I had stashedsomethinguseful. But all I found were empty sweetener packets and an old copy ofDesignationmagazine, a publication that glamorized the life of an Omega. I picked it up, my heart aching. I was seven or eight when I begged my mother to buy it for me, and I had felt so grown up flicking through the pages, imagining how much better my life would be when I was so grown up. I wanted to go back in time and hug that little girl and tell her everything would be okay.
Tears stung my eyes. I scrubbed them away and chucked the magazine back into the closet.
I looked at the door to the hallway. Was Marco really there? Or had they just locked me in?
I tested the handle, and it turned easily. For a split second I hoped, but the door flew inward and I stumbled back.
“Don’t be stupid. You’re not going anywhere,” Marco said. His voice was dull and flat, and his smile was trying to be like Domenic’s — coolly polite and unconcerned — but there was an edge of self-consciousness to him that betrayed just how much that facade cost him to keep up.
“You remember me, don’t you?” I asked.
That threw him off. His expression turned defensive. “No, I don’t.”
“I rememberyou. He never mentioned you, you know. Not once.” I searched his face, looking for the little boy I’d met so long ago.
“He was waiting for the right time. He didn’t want to upset your mother.” He clenched his jaw and lifted his chin, but the uncertainty remained in his eyes.
“Right, he’ssoconcerned with her feelings. That must be why he treats her so well.” For a moment I wondered if she was alright. It seemed she hadn’t betrayed me after all. She must have been downstairs somewhere, but I doubted Domenic would let her anywhere near me. “What about your mom? Does she approve?”
Anguish took over his face, so naked and vulnerable that my heart clenched involuntarily in sympathy. I didn’t need him to answer the question to know he’d lost her.
I let my sympathy show. “You don’t have to do this. They’ll realize I’m here sooner or later, and you can get out of this if you let me go. I’ll tell them you helped me.”
Marco swallowed. He really was just a kid. “He’ll kill me.”
“I won’t let him. I’ll make sure you’re protected.” So many promises with no guarantee of keeping them. “My pack can help you.”
Whatever door I’d opened to Marco’s conscience slammed shut. He shoved me back into the room, but I managed to keep my feet.
“I’m locking the door now. Don’t bother trying to get out,” he said, slamming it in my face.
I clenched my fists and listened to the bolt slide home. After a moment, I sat on the bed again. My head throbbed from where I’d been hit and fatigue pulled at my muscles, surely from the adrenaline that had been pumping through me all day.
Concussion?I wondered. Probably. But my head was clear, other than the headache, and my vision wasn’t impaired. Maybe it was just normal exhaustion. I shoved my shoulders against the wrought iron headboard, deliberately keeping myself uncomfortable.
Marco would have to sleep at some point. I would wait for a while, then try to pick the lock and hope he wasn’t there when I got the door open.
As I gazed unseeing at the doors of the closet, I realized what I’d said.My pack, a small voice whispered in my head again, and this time it wasn’t a fictional mom or a therapist. It was me.
“Wake up,” a voice hissed, drawing me out of my fitful sleep. I lunged up, expecting a threat.
Soft hands caught my shoulders. Wide blue eyes and silver-blonde hair. My mother.
