I can tell. Ava’s little girl is so serious, the complete opposite of her little brother, Leo. He’s quick to laugh, where Emery is quiet, but no less adorable for it.
In fact, something about her tugs on my heartstrings. I was more than happy to come back to the Center, to spend time playing innocent games to make her smile the way she did when I last saw her.
My eyes slide to Molly, and I’m mindful not to move my head and dislodge Emery’s careful pinning with butterfly clips. “Moll? Do you ever think about leaving here?”
She cocks her head. “Well, sure. One day.”
“You want a pack of your own?” I ask. It’s a little strange, having this conversation with her. Molly was only eleven when we met, the youngest omega in history, according to Ava and the records she was able to retrieve from the OC archives. But now she’s seventeen, and she’s clearly thriving here.
It’s both a knife to my chest and the biggest relief of my life. I tried so hard to protect her at the Compound, and in the end, she didn’t need my help at all.
She shrugs. “Maybe. But I’d like to work with omegas. Ones like me, I mean, who transition early. I’ve been talking to Ava and Max about setting up a specialist unit.”
Max. One of Ava’s pack, I met him earlier. He’d rushed in with a hasty apology for being late, his red hair still pinned with evidence of Emery’s hairdressing skills as he handed her over to Molly. He works on the other, more public side of the building, acting as the head of medical services for the omegas here.
My brows lift. “I think you’d be fantastic at that.” My words are genuine. Molly’s optimism still shines through, even after all these years. The OC didn’t manage to destroy that, after all.
She lifts her shoulders in a self-deprecating shrug. “It’s a while off yet. I’m more interested in you, and your pack.”
My eyes drop to the floor. “They’re not my pack.”
She scoffs. “Anyone with eyes can see that they’re yours, Gabby. It doesn’t take a bitemark on your neck to prove it.”
I can feel the heat in my cheeks. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“You don’t want them?”
My stomach revolts. “No! It’s not that. It’s more… I always said I didn’t want a pack. I wanted to make my own way. I don’t want my whole identity to revolve around being a possession. I want to be more than that.”
Molly’s voice is gentle. “You can’t do both?”
I swallow. “I don’t know how,” I confess. “In my head, it was always so clear. I wanted my own home, that I’d paid for. I wanted a job, a secure one, with enough money for me to pay bills and have a little bit extra. That doesn’t exactly gel with the pack life.”
She frowns. “Gabby… that feels an awful lot like basic survival. And I get that. We went through a shi- abadtime, and it makes sense that those are things you would want. But it sounds like you’re holding out for the basics, when you have so much more than that waiting for you.”
Her words are a direct hit to my chest.
“Wow,” I choke. “You should definitely press ahead with that unit. They could use someone like you.”
Because her words have me re-examining every thought, every decision I’ve been debating for weeks now.
Her cheeks crease. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
Emery pats the top of my head, and I turn my face, trying to pull my thoughts together. “Am I a princess now?” I ask, and she tilts her head to the side, considering my question before she responds with a single nod.
“I feel very honored,” I tell her seriously. Molly gives me a thumbs up behind her back.
As I’m leaving, my thoughts in tangled disarray, I push open the doors to the main Reception area and freeze when I spot a familiar face. Rogue Winter is perched gingerly in one of the Reception chairs, his size large enough that he looks at real risk of toppling over.
He glances over and pauses. Taking a deep breath, I cross the open space to where the chairs are set up, and he stands as I approach him.
“Gabrielle.” He sounds taken aback. “I – ah – I’m meeting Luc for lunch. Ava’s mate.”
I nod, chewing on my lip. “I’ve just been to see Molly,” I offer, and he smiles. “She’s doing so well.”
“She is.” I hesitate, taking him in. This man has been the boogeyman in my nightmares for too many years now.
