Page 24 of Dark Sold Mate

Elle also smiled sadly. She was being held captive by the one man who was supposed to be the love of her life.

The irony would have been funny if Elle had any laughter left in her.

But she didn't. All she had was anger, frustration, and the increasing understanding that she wasn't going to find someone to help her. She was all she had.

Not August. Not the pack. Not anyone.

In order to gain her freedom, Elle would have to do so on her own.

Even if she had no idea how.

Chapter 7 - Silas

The banging on the door came earlier than expected. Silas had not even emptied his first cup of coffee and was still in the kitchen when he heard it. He had requested Margaret to visit him sometime during the day to check on Elle.

He had reckoned she would come later in the day. He put aside his mug and walked to the door.

Margaret was on the porch, carrying her usual healer bag. She looked up at his face and said, “Hello, Alpha. Don’t worry. I’m not staying long.”

“You’re early.”

“I know.”

Silas stepped aside and gestured for her to come in.

“I only noticed it last night. I didn’t want to wait.”

He closed the door. “Noticed what?”

Margaret dropped her bag and looked at him with concern. Margaret had worked as the pack healer for years. She was not a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. When she looked serious or concerned, it meant something.

“When you came home with her, I was at the back of the crowd. I didn’t speak to the girl. She didn’t see me. But I smelt her.” She paused. “Alpha. Elle is not who this pack thinks she is.”

Silas furrowed his brows and waited for her to continue.

“I have been the healer of this pack before you were born. I have evaluated every child, followed each designation, analyzed each teenager that passed through that stage.” Her voice turned cautious. “That girl is not human. Neither is she a Beta or a Delta like your brothers. What I smelt was something I had only ever smelt once. Centuries ago.” She met his eyes. “The last recorded Omega in the Weston line was three generations back. Before your grandfather’s time.”

The kitchen went very still, and Silas quietly placed his coffee down.

“I think there was a secondary designation that did not go off,” Margaret continued, “which Elle now is carrying. Comatose-like. Maybe since birth. In the years it ought to have manifested itself, it never did. She would not have known, anyway. She had no guideline for what she had been going through.”

His wolf had gone still. He had never treated Elle in the way the bond expected him to. He had been telling himself that it was desire, and guilt, the specific burden of having been cruel to someone and having to live with it. He never once asked himself why the bond felt like this. Why it rendered him helpless at her sight.

“She doesn’t know,” he said.

“No.”

“When this gets out—” He stopped. He was already managing it: the old traditional wolves, his father’s doctrine, the way an Omega Luna would be either an object to be manipulated or an object to be positioned for their selfish desires. “She would become a target.”

“She already is,” Margaret said. “The question is what kind.” She picked up her bag. “I’ll come back to check her injuries.” She walked to the door and stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “It’s up to you what you do with it. But do not take it too long, Silas. She deserves to know.”

Then she left.

After closing the door, Silas stood still in the kitchen. It had been three generations since his pack had seen an Omega. Omegas were rare. He thought of Elle, who had built herself up from nothing in the human world, without a pack.

He wondered how he should tell her or when.

He was still turning it over when he heard his brother's car pull into the drive. What words could there even be.