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He turns toward Vae and me with a glare. “Also, because I have a feeling the reason I’m here has something to do with you two assholes.”
Vae’s mouth drops open. “Me? What did I do?”
Soren’s eyes narrow. “Think. Very fucking hard.”
Vae’s shoulders fall, and he slumps in his chair. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Soren echoes. “Oh.”
Calder turns and gestures for Idril to stand. “Alright, Omega. Let me see if you’re falling apart physically as badly as these idiots seem to be mentally.”
“Wait,” Soren snaps, settling a hand on Idril’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t you examine her somewhere more private? Or at the very least, away from the assholes who hurt her to begin with?”
Idril turns and places a hand on top of Soren’s.
“It’s fine,” she tells him. “Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone to feel like they need to question if I’m ‘playing the victim.’”
That last part is aimed at Vae and me, and it hit its mark. The ache in my chest spreads, turning into a throbbing pain that radiates throughout my body.
Vae makes a choked sound, like he’s been punched in the gut.
Idril stands. There’s no hesitance in her movements or fear in her eyes. She holds Calder’s gaze with a stubbornness I’ve never seen in her before and says, “You have a very odd bedside manner. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Calder grins like the psychopath he is. “Your spine seems to be intact, at least.”
The ache in my chest intensifies as a hesitant smile blooms across Idril’s face.
I watch intently as Calder starts by checking her vitals. The exam is pretty standard, right up until he reaches out and grips a fistful of her hair at the scalp.
“Hey!” Idril yelps, trying to duck away as he combs his fingers through her hair from root to tip.
Calder has to side-step Caelan, who stands and lunges for him. Soren pulls him back, but Caelan’s not having it. Not until Idril places a hand against his chest, whispering soft reassurances until he calms down.
Calder ignores him, holding out his closed fist over the table. “Do any of you boys want to take a guess at her diagnosis?” He lifts a brow. “Nobody? Really? Maybe a clue will help.”
He uncurls his fist.
My stomach churns. My throat and mouth dry out as a terrifying amount of silver hair floats from his palm. It lands on top of the table, right between platters of fresh-cut fruit and unbuttered toast.
“What the fuck? Did you just rip out her hair?” Caelan shoots to his feet. This time, Soren doesn’t bother holding him back.
Calder’s reply doesn’t register over the sound of my heart beating frantically in my chest. Because despite what Caelan might think, I already know Calder didn’t pull out Idril’s hair.
I probably know the symptoms of CSDD better than Calder. I spent hours studying case files until I was certain I’d know if we ever pushed the Omega too far.
Fatigue, extreme hair loss, brittle bones and excessive bruising, tremors, feelings of isolation and helplessness, restlessness, lethargy, extended episodes of severe dissociation.
If you were watching for symptoms, why did you dismiss her responses that night in the library? My Alpha pushes back.
Everything is all twisted up in my head. Was I truly ignoring the signs just because I didn’t want to see them? How much of that was subconscious, and how much of it did I knowingly lie to myself about?
Was I really so fucking desperate to be right about this female?
Gods… what the hell have I done? Who the fuck am I?
I don’t know how long Vae’s been trying to get my attention, but apparently he’s had enough because the fucker kicks me underneath the table hard enough to send a sharp pain shooting through my shin.
“What the fuck,” I hiss.
