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Hunter’s all puffed up like a tattooed mother hen, itching to feed the girl a sandwich.
Meanwhile, Jett stares at nothing, as blank and pale as white paper, and I can’t look too closely at my own gut-twisting urge to drink her in.
Atlas: We’re going home. Have Craig make the arrangements.
I don’t want to know anything about her. I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to have to look Orion in the eye and tell him that I made this happen.
“We’re out.” I stand. The motion snaps the guys out of their shit, and they march out of the box behind me. Jett moves like he’s striding down death row. My other brothers put their heads close, whispering secret schemes, and Finn sparkles.
I keep my heart fixed on home.
And how the fuck I’m going to explain this goddamned train wreck to our mate.
***
Six
LILAH
Evgenia knew I’d bolt.
She waits in the wings and grabs my elbow before I can sprint back to my dorm room cave and lock myself in for the weeks it’s going to take me to recover from tonight.
“Your lines were beautiful. You were beautiful. Now change for the reception,” she says, already tugging me toward the dressing room.
“Not happening.”
“No arguments tonight, Darling. This goes over both our heads.” Evgenia puts her hands on her hips. In an elegant patterned wrap dress, with her dark hair slicked into a glossy chignon, she looks like a bougie dance mom. I’m not her kid, but backstage swarms with security and I can no more run than throw a tantrum.
I change because only in my nightmares would I go in public in this sheer, skimpy spandex. But I don’t have a rack of couture cocktail dresses waiting for me like the other girls. All I brought were my OCC sweats. Most days, I rock around in them happily.
They keep me hidden. They keep me safe.
Tonight, they make me stand out.
Evgenia sighs at me before patting my shoulder and herding me to the atrium. The massive space is divided into clusters of couches, where each omega holds her own court.
Every girl here is a princess in a sparkling gown. They’re surrounded by their families and packs of suitors, smiling with big bouquets of garden-of-Eden flowers, the tables decked out with expensive bottles and fancy finger foods.
I’m led to an empty sofa, surrounded by empty chairs, and I wonder if it’s twisted that I take comfort in the emptiness.
“I can’t stay,” Evgenia says after settling me in my seat. “But you’ll have an offer tonight. Take it, no matter what. Opportunities like this never come twice.”
She leaves me to be swallowed up by the dull roar of dozens of conversations, and a roomful of scents I want nothing to do with. I curl my knees up on the couch and hug them to my chest.
Maybe it’s my grungy sweatsuit, maybe it’s my face full of bruises, or maybe there’s a subtle pheromone hanging around me that says fuck off, but either way, it’s like a force field separates me from the rest of the room.
Not even the waiters come near. The only reason I know I’m not invisible is that the omegas in the closest seating groups take the time to sneer. Rachel glares from the far, far side of the atrium where she sits with her foot on ice and a crowd of hulking alpha admirers.
Solitary punishment doesn’t last as long when you have bankrollers to bribe the trainers.
I’m hoping I spend the whole night alone.
Unseen and unbothered.
Although some water would be nice?
I peek above the couch, seeing if I can ask a waiter for an empty cup. That’s when I spot the forces of nature headed toward me.
