“No, I’m serious. If I find this cunt before the cops do, I’m going to need a very good lawyer.” She points to me, and as much as she sounds like she’s joking, I know she’s not.
I refused to let Bronte leave, even after the scene had been stripped. My nest left empty and bare for me to start all over again. Not even a bleach bath could convince me to keep a singleblanket or pillow I’d collected over the years. The idea of them had my stomach reeling. After one mad dash to the toilet at the thought of salvaging something, I knew I just had to start over.
Bronte made that idea feel less impossible. She called it a metamorphosis. Shedding the past and making way for the new. New journey. New job. New life.New nest.
I can’t even pretend I’m not devastated.
“Girl, you know I love a shopping trip,” she says, grabbing my hands in hers after she had washed them twice with dish soap and another round of hand sanitizer. “This time, when you form your nest, you can be more intentional with the pieces you pick. Maybe you can go for a darker, moody vibe this time. Maybe some dark greens, purples, and reds.”
“What, like the color of blood?” I snark, giving her half a smile for the first time since she walked through the door.
Bronte rolls her eyes, slapping me on the shoulder.Too soon, I take it.
“No, you bitch. I mean something that will represent the real you. Like burgundy. I know how much you love that color. Besides, the burgundy heels you have are insanely hot. Not that you wear them much these days. You’re all sensible heels and boring suits.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“You’re hardly one to talk about high heels. You might be immune to the damage they do to your feet, but I’m not. You put me to shame a good six inches.”
She chuckles.
Bronte is an exotic dancer, and she would not be found wearing heels less than six inches. While she’d struggled against the prejudice her parents had drilled into her when she first joined the industry, she’d eventually realized something they never did. There was freedom in being unapologetically yourself. And if there was one thing Bronte excelled at, it was being exactly who she wanted to be.
We both quiet down before the mood slowly turns solemn again.
“What the fuck is going on, Lenn? Who would leave a dead bird in your nest? That’s pure insanity!”
“I have no idea. I just started getting these stupid fuckin’ text messages and all of a sudden, I’m in some kind of war with them. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”
I chew on my lower lip, replaying the text thread over and over in my head. One message in particular keeps clawing its way back to the surface. At the time, I’d dismissed it in favor of the more immediate horrors. But now, with my nest stripped bare and the adrenaline beginning to wear off, I can’t ignore it anymore.
“B, they mentioned something about my Dad. They said something about me paying for his sins. Something about…with him gone now, I have to suffer for the things he did when he was alive.”
Bronte’s eyes bug out of her head. “What the fuck kind of sadistic bullshit is that? You and I both know that your dad was one of the most gentle men there was. Sure, he was a beast on the ice but the moment he stepped off it, he was a massive teddy bear.”
I nod, having thought the same thing. He was never cruel. Far from it. Which is why I had passed their message off as nothing more than baiting me. And you know what, perhaps they still are. But they have access to me in ways I am not fucking comfortable with, so I need to take this seriously.
“I don’t know what to do,” I murmur, burying my head into my blanket.
“What did the police say?” Bronte says after a beat.
I snort, “Somehow I don’t think the law is going to be on my side with this one. They mentioned something about a bunch of kids and sending a night watch to patrol the area. But they didn’teven offer to come check out the place. They probably thought I was a crazy person because I hadn’t been to bed when I went down there and I was under all kinds of stress. This is what I get for being a female, unmated Omega. I’m literally treated like an afterthought.”
Bronte doesn’t reply straight away. She knows I am right. She’s seen it happen enough times to know I’m not exaggerating. To most people, an unmated Omega is something to pity. Someone unstable. Volatile.Weak.Stigmas that I have proven time and time again that I am not, but to no avail.
“What are you going to do then?”
I sigh, looking over at my best friend. “I’m just going to have to weather this storm and hope like fuck they are just trying to scare me and not actually hurt me.”
Bronte’s shoulders drop, as does her face. She knows me well enough to know that once I sink my heels in, moving me is damn near impossible. That I’m stubborn. That I refuse to back down from a fight, even when common sense tells me to.
“The moment this goes too far, you need to get the fuck out of here, Lenn. Come stay with me. Move into a place with better security or something. Just…don’t stay here trying to prove a fucking point.” I grab her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I will. I promise.”
“The cops might not give a fuck, but I do. Oh, also, I’ve already ordered hidden cameras. There's a guy coming tomorrow to install them.”
Deciding that arguing is pointless, I decide that it’s probably for the best.
“You’re so bossy these days.”
