Marcus still insists on entering our cottage before me, giving it a quick sweep as I take in the damage. The chaos.
All of the framed photos have been thrown from the mantle, the glass broken to shards around the fireplace. My favorite throw is shredded on our couch, the couch’s stuffing bursting out from rips in the upholstery.
Mugs have been smashed and my electric kettle destroyed.
It’s all just stuff until I see the torn covers of Marcus’ favorite detective novels lying around in the devastation. I whimper again, stooping among the pages, trying to collect them back together, but then I hear Marcus’ growl from my nest, and dash up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Devastation isn’t enough to describe the ruin of my nest.
All of my nesting materials have been ripped, large gashes cut into the mattress. Cotton filling and feathers blanket the floor of my nest like snow, but it’s not the nest that makes me cry out in anguish.
It’s the smashed pinboard and all of my torn pictures. Pictures of our little omega girl gang getting up to no good, of Simon and me from the scavenger hunt, of Luca from all around campus and Deer Island. All torn to pieces.
Marcus nudges my shoulder and nods to the wall.
I don’t know if the message was written in paint or in blood, but it chills me to my very core all the same.
I told you to obey. I am done being lenient.
* * *
I have nowhereto go but into the safety of Luca’s arms. His dorm room is the closest thing I have to a nest now, though I hate being under the same roof as Andrew Radcliffe.
But where else would I turn? My most sacred space, the one space in the entire world where I felt the safest, has been violated beyond belief.
Luca gathers me into his arms, and I sob. I weep until I’m hollowed out, until all the pain is purged from my body, and I’m left numb once more. But in that numbness, there’s still fear, the paralyzing poison that keeps me bound up in Luca’s arms when I should be out there bringing Andrew Radcliffe to his fucking knees.
I’m too much of a coward.
A weak, pathetic omega, stupid and naive.
Leigh was right when she said none of us are special, that we won’t be the ones to break free and find packs that cherish us. And Aspen, he was right when he said I’d serve our family on my back. More likely, it’ll be on my hands and knees, quivering and presenting my sex to that vile fucking bastard like a good little omega.
Because that’s what Rad wants. He wants me dominated and defiled. He wants to hurt me, make me bleed and bruise.
Like Leigh said, I won’t be the exception.
Not even with magic as strong as mine.
Not even with an affinity.
I’m just a vessel for alphas to pour their anger into. Hollow and empty.
Barely a person. Little more than a rich pack’s plaything.
But Claire was right: alphas like Aspen and Rad don’t share. I won’t have the pack of my dreams; I won’t have a pack at all. I’ll have nowhere to find relief from Rad’s cruelty.
“I’m scared,” I finally whisper to Luca when my fear overpowers the numbness.
He kisses my forehead, takes my hands in his, and kisses the scars that encircle my wrist, both old and new. He doesn’t tell me everything will be okay, because neither of us could know that—and neither of us believe it.
When long hours have passed, dawn sending streaks of light into the twilight sky, and I’m still anxious and trembling in his arms, Luca leaves me just long enough to pull Marcus into the room and then into the bed on my other side.
For just a few hours, I pretend. I tangle with Luca, Marcus at my back, and I pretend that I’ll get the pack of my dreams. That Marcus isn’t immune to me and can be my alpha just as much as Luca can. That I’ll always be surrounded by wine and winter wind.
That we curl together not out of fear, but out of love.
* * *
