Except I wasn’t invisible.
I felt it before I saw it. That quiet pressure at the back of my neck. The sense of being watched without anyone actually staring.
I glanced up.
Across the kitchen, an omega leaned against the far counter, arms crossed. He was sharp-looking. Put together. The kind of pretty that felt intentional. His eyes slid over me once—slow and deliberate—then dropped to the cut on my shoulders.
His mouth tilted, not into a smile, but into something knowing. Like he’d noticed something he planned to use later.
I looked back down at my plate, suddenly aware of how close everyone was. How loud my fork sounded against ceramic.
“Don’t,” Ember murmured beside me.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t shrink,” she said quietly. “They notice that too.”
I swallowed. Took another bite. Made myself stay exactly where I was.
The omega drifted closer—not straight at me, just enough to be near. He leaned toward another omega—a woman this time, darker hair, sharper eyes, quieter presence—and said something under his breath.
She glanced at me once.
Just once.
It landed harder than the smirk.
Her eyes swept over my face, then the cut, then away like she’d already decided what I was and didn’t need a second look.
“Is there a reason he’s eating here?” the first omega asked. His voice was light. Almost bored.
The woman didn’t answer. She took a slow sip of her coffee.
Ember didn’t turn around.
“Kitchen’s open,” she said. Calm. Flat. “Food’s for everyone.”
The omega hummed. “Funny. Didn’t realize hostages counted.”
My fingers tightened around the fork.
Hostage.
There it was.
I looked up before I could stop myself. “I didn’t ask to be here.”
His eyes snapped to mine, annoyed—and surprised I’d spoken.
“No,” he said. “But you’re settling in pretty fast.”
The woman—Cassie, Ember had mentioned her name earlier—set her mug down with a soft click.
“You don’t wear another man’s cut unless you’re something,” she said quietly.
She didn’t speak to me.
Even though it was clearly about me.
