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For a moment, I think he’s about to say something about needing to protect me. Alphas lose it when their omega is threatened, and my heart clenches at the thought of him rushing to save me. For a moment, I can’t help but think Brady is as screwed up inside over our scent match as I am. But that’s all it is—a fleeting, delusional moment.
Then he presses his lips together and shakes his head before saying, “You know better than to trust an alpha. Some of them are horrible. They’ll do the unthinkable to an omega.”
A sardonic laugh slips past my lips. “Oh, trust me, Brady. You’ve done a great job teaching me how shitty alphas can be.”
His jaw clenches, but I don’t stick around for more lectures and accusations. I slam my bedroom door behind me. How can one alpha be so infuriating and intoxicating at the same time? I wish he’d never found out about my scent. Maybe then we’d have a somewhat normal relationship, like the one I have with Austin and Dylan.
At least they’re clueless.
My skin itches and I pace my room, hating that I’m trapped in a house that smells like everything I’ll never have. Hating that Brady, while a complete asshole, is right. Hating that Daria was too. Hating that, somehow, I’ve gone from the one no one ever had to worry about to the one that’s the problem.
Night falls,and I can’t stay in the house for another minute. After beating myself up for the past few hours, I need to get out of my head, need to feel like there’s more to life than the endless torture of being an omega without her pack.
Brady hasn’t left, and though the living room is downstairs and on the other side of the house, I can hear the TV blaring. Austin and Dylan haven’t come home yet. If there’s any chance of me getting out to clear my head without running into the alphas, now is the best time to try.
In my one-piece swimsuit, I slip out of my room and down the stairs, scurrying to the back door as quiet as a mouse fearing for its life as the cat lies in wait. The back door closes with a soft snick, and though, logically, I know I’m being quiet and Brady probably has no clue that I’ve left my room, I can’t help but feel he’s going to jump out and grab me at any second.
It’s dumb. I hate it. I hate walking on eggshells in my own home. I hate having to pretend like everything is fine when I haven’t really felt okay for years. I can’t remember the last time I did... maybe sometime before my dads left. Back when I was loved and cherished, not rejected and loathed.
A pack that finds its scent match doesn’t think rationally, Quinn.As mad as I am at them, I understand that part.
What I don’t understand is how they could abandon their family. Mom might’ve been forgiving. I’m not. If Brady and I can fight our attraction, my dads could have. They were with my mom for fifteen years. I was ten. But they just walked away when they caught a whiff of their fated omega?
What happened to all of that love? Did it just disappear? Or was it never there at all? Were they simply biding their time with us? Entertaining themselves until something better came along?
This is why I hate my scent. Not only because of what it means for my stepbrothers, but because I don’t want to be the reason a family crumbles. I concealed my scent for years before mom remarried, never thinking my fated pack would soon become family.
And, somehow, I’m one fuckup away from being exactly like my dads.
And Ihateit.
I bite down hard on my cheek as I march toward the ocean, letting the immediate pain override everything else. I bury it all, hide from the truth, cower away from the harsh reality until the heartache is as foggy as a distant memory.
The sand gives and shifts beneath my feet. A warm breeze coasts over my skin, but it does nothing to chase the chill of sadness and self-loathing away. The moon has yet to rise, but it’s late enough that the sky is a rich shade of blue, almost like Dylan’s eyes. I glare at the star-speckled landscape. Is there no escape? I can’t even enjoy the night without thinking about them.
Or is that nature trying to force us together?
Wet sand sticks to the pads of my feet, and a soft wave crawls up the beach, gently licking at my toes. I march after the receding water until I’m ankle deep. Another wave roars toward the shore, and I brace myself, letting it knock into me and steal the sand from beneath my feet.
The ocean is beautiful in a terrifying way. The water is cool against my skin, but it’s the magnetic pull of it, luring me farther and farther away from shore, that sends a shiver down my spine. If the ocean is a siren, I’m the fool who answers the call. I don’t stop until the ocean floor is out of reach. I should be afraid, andto be honest, I am, but a thrilling buzz rushes through my veins, and I dive under a wave.
The water rolls over me, ripping control out of my grasp and pounding me into submission. Molding me to its will. Out here, there’s no time to worry about anything but surviving that which could destroy me. I come up with a gasp right in time for another wave to smash into me, demanding I yield under the weight of its power. The water pulls me under, taking hold of my body like a puppeteer manipulating a marionette.
And I surrender.
Twenty-One
BRADY
The moment Quinn’s door opens, my muscles clench. I force myself to stay put, ignoring the urge to drop to my knees and beg for her forgiveness. She’s pissed at me. I don’t blame her.
I was an asshole.
I am an asshole.
That fucker was so close to her when I arrived. Quinn was so scared, and I hated seeing her like that. I hated knowing what that alpha wanted. I hated realizing that she’s vulnerable because of me.
She’s my scent match.
