AllFreeNovel
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I dig through the boxes of clothes and quickly find one filled with dresses wrapped in tissue.
It’s too expensive and too much.
According to my omega nature, I should adore getting gifts, but my nurture got so twisted, it’s not that simple.
I’m always waiting for the bill to come.
With interest.
In the end, I take a dress because I need something to wear, but I don’t accept whatever feelings are attached because if I don’t draw some line, the Wyverns will be the ones who take me.
The line blurs once again when I zip into a navy slip dress that fits so perfectly it must’ve been tailored. And shit. How does Wyvern Pack just know my measurements? Do they have their own sweatshop?
I know Jett can sew.
He patched a hole in my sweatshirt once, when he still spoke to me.
I’m crossing my fingers he doesn’t have a guard shift. It makes my internal battle that much harder when we have all the twisty history.
I do my hair but not my makeup, then dig a pair of cute white sneakers from my loot pile. From now on, I only wear shoes I can run in.
All dressed up, I look good.
There’s more color in my cheeks and meat on my bones thanks to regular-ish meals and sleep. In a new bra, I even have boobs.
Still working on the hips, but I’ll get there.
Goals.
It’s just nice to look in the mirror and not see my past reflected in hollow cheeks and thready clothes. I look like a normal omega, who’s pampered instead of kicked around.
I hope the alphas at the social pick up the vibe and treat me with respect.
But the bar is low, and the skirt also hides my gun.
I stay in my room until the last minute, and hiding was the right decision, because Hunter dressed up.
He’d look sexy in a onesie with fluffy ears and a tail, so in a tailored James Bond suit that highlights his body-builder lines, with his hair styled back, and his all-seeing gaze seeing only me…
I swallow and walk past.
Zen.
“Lilah.” The soft way he says my name glues my feet to the carpet.
“Before you go…” He offers me an envelope. “There’s one more thing. From all of us.”
What now?
A contract?
A heart-felt written apology I’ll have to pretend doesn’t affect me?
I open the flap to find a check, and when I read the number, my heart roars in my ears.
“We paid your outstanding OCC debt. I had the accounting team calculate and credit everything you were overcharged. This is what’s left.”
As I stare at the zeroes, the paper trembles in my fingers. “No.”
