"Preparing to claim her?" My mother's laugh was sharp and bitter. "She's fifteen. She's not ready to be claimed by anyone, let alone four Alphas between four years and seven years olderthan her, wanting her as theirs when she grows up. You were grooming her. "
The word hung in the air. Grooming. Mason flinched like he'd been slapped, but he didn't deny it. None of them did.
"We would never hurt her," Mason said, his voice rough with emotion, his honey-brown eyes pleading with me over my mother's head. "Ava, you know that. We would never?—"
"Don't talk to her," my mother snapped, pushing me further behind her. "Don't look at her. Don't even breathe in her direction."
"Elena." A new voice. Calm. Authoritative. David stood at the end of the hallway, still in his robe, his salt-and-pepper hair mussed from sleep. His dark eyes swept over the scene—his sons, his stepdaughter, his wife—and his expression was unreadable. "What's going on here?"
"What's going on is that Ava has presented," my mother said, her voice tight with barely controlled rage. "And your sons are acting like animals."
"They're acting like Alphas," David corrected gently, moving down the hallway with measured steps. "Like Alphas who have just discovered their Omega."
"She is not their Omega."
"Elena—"
"She is a child, David!" My mother's voice cracked, tears spilling down her cheeks. "She is my child, and I will not let you—let them?—"
"No one is going to do anything," David soothed, his voice calm and reasonable. He reached my mother, placing his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "She's young. Of course she's young. There's plenty of time. Let her adjust. Let her grow into what she's becoming."
"And then?" my mother demanded. "When she's eighteen, nineteen, twenty? Then you'll just hand her over to them?" David's silence was answer enough.
"No," my mother said, her voice cold and final. "No. I won't allow it. She's going on suppressants today. She's never going into heat. She's going to go to college, have a career, have a life?—"
"She can have all of those things and still be bonded to?—"
"I said no." My mother grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the stairs, toward the back door, toward escape. "Move, Leo."
Leo didn't move. His gray eyes flicked to David, waiting for instruction.
"Let them go," David said quietly. "Let Elena take her to get suppressants. There's no rush." His dark eyes found mine over my mother's shoulder, and something in his gaze made my blood run cold. "She's not going anywhere."
Leo stepped aside. My mother dragged me down the stairs, through the kitchen, out the back door. I didn't look back. I couldn't. I felt their eyes on me the entire way, four pairs of eyes, burning into my skin, branding me as surely as any bite.
We drove to a pharmacy three towns over. My mother's hands shook on the steering wheel the entire time. She didn't speak, and neither did I. The suppressants came in a little orange bottle. The pharmacist, a Beta woman with kind eyes, explained how to take them, what side effects to expect. My mother listened intently, asking questions, taking notes.
I just stood there, numb.
When we got back to the house, it was quiet. Too quiet. My mother walked me to my room, stood guard while I dismantled the nest, each soft thing removed felt like losing a piece of myself—and then sat on my bed while I took my first pill.
"This will stop the heat from coming," Elena explained, her voice soft now, exhausted. "It will suppress your scent, your instincts, your... urges. You'll feel more like yourself." I nodded, swallowing the pill dry. It scraped down my throat like a stone.
"Ava." My mother took my hands, squeezing tight. Her green eyes were fierce and wet. "I need you to promise me something."
"What?"I asked, my voice trembling.
"Promise me you'll never stop taking these pills," my mother said, her voice urgent. "Promise me you'll never let yourself go into heat. Promise me you'll leave this house as soon as you turn eighteen, go to college somewhere far away, build a life for yourself that doesn't involve—" She gestured vaguely, encompassing the house, the boys, everything. "—this."
"I promise," I whispered.
My mother pulled me into a hug, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. "I won't let them have you," she murmured against my hair. "I won't let anyone have you unless you choose it. You deserve better than being someone's possession."
I believed her. I believed that she would protect me, that the suppressants would work, that I could escape this house and these boys and this terrifying new reality. I was wrong.
That night, I wrote in my diary. Just a few words, my hand shaking too hard to write more:
They looked at me like I was something to eat. Like I was already theirs. Mason dropped his glass. Caleb made this sound—like hunger. Ethan's hands were shaking. Leo smiled like he'd won something.
