“Then let her have a tragic accident like that Lindstrom omega did,” Hawthorn sneers, and my heart stutters to a halt in my chest at the cold, surgical cruelty in his voice.
“If it comes down to it, it can be arranged,” my father says, waving off my brother’s concerns. “It’d be a dreadful time to have the press digging into the family though. The timeline for our work with Radcliffe Industries leaves us no time for disruptions. Nor for trouble like your sister could cause if she does indeed have an affinity. There is far too much at stake for us.”
Saints, it’s too much. My mind reels, my thoughts racing as I try to commit their conversation to memory.
“She hasn’t mentioned anything to me that would suggest an affinity,” Hawthorn says. “Nor have any of my contacts at Fairhaven.”
“Her honor guard hasn’t said anything either,” my father says. “Though I suspect she’s won his loyalty. He may be immune to her, but omegas are still manipulative, spiteful creatures. She may not even know she’s doing it, but I’m certain she’s manipulated the poor alpha.”
“Juniper doesn’t have a cruel bone in her body,” Aspen sneers. “She’s weak, like father said.”
“Cruelty isn’t strength,” Willow says venomously. “But she needn’t be cruel to be manipulative. She’s an omega. It’s what theydo. You saw Mother do the very same, and you loved her long after she left us.”
They’re silent for a moment before Hawthorn raises a new subject. “But you trust her honor guard?”
“He’s a pawn. His actions are of no consequence, but his presence demonstrates our familial commitment to her education. He performs well enough.”
“Well enough? She was assaulted!”
There’s a fervor in Hawthorn’s voice, an anger on my behalf that’s been missing this whole time. For the first time, he almost sounds like the brother I know and love. Almost.
“As I said, well enough. She lives, more or less unharmed. That is sufficient,” my father says.
“She probably invited it,” Aspen sneers.
“I suspect as much,” my father agrees. “Foul omega that she is. But she won’t be a concern of ours much longer.”
I can bear no more of their conversation. I flee from the door to my father’s study, taking care to keep my footfalls silent as I rush to my suite. I lock the door behind me, dash into the bathroom and lock that door as well, and as soon as the bolt clicks in the lock, I throw myself before the toilet and vomit up breakfast.
I weep as I heave. As I clean myself up. As I scribble down every single damning detail I can remember of their conversation. It isn’t hard. Every cruel word is etched on my heart.
* * *
I spendNew Year’s Eve coordinating with the contractors we’ve hired to decorate the manor in glittering golds and shimmering silvers, in heavy white blooms bursting with fragrance. Playing the good little omega who will one day do the same for her influential pack.
My father catches me as I’m working with a beta woman on fixing a floral arrangement in the entry hall and I brush my hands off before turning to him, plastering my mask back in place.
“We’ll be entertaining some special guests this evening. I expect you to be an exemplary hostess. The young Radcliffe alpha you go to school with will be here, and I’m in the midst of making a business arrangement with one of his fathers. I do hope you’ll be welcoming to him. But don’t let him take liberties, as I’m certain he’ll try to do. He’ll ask for a kiss at midnight. Give him your cheek.”
My skin crawls at the thought of Rad touching me again, like he did in the stand of trees beside the library, like he did while admiring the spot on my throat where he’d leave his bite in the study room before my Peer Advising session. Bile rises in my throat, scorching and bitter. “Yes, father, of course,” I lie. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder in a way that’s more domineering than fatherly. “As well you should.”
* * *
As soon asI’ve dealt with the caterers, I escape to my room, claiming I need to rest before the long night of festivities ahead. But I pace instead, staring down at my phone.
Marcus told me to call if I was in any danger, and I am—of that I have no doubt—but I’ll be safe for the night, save for a few lingering touches from an alpha I loathe, a pinch on the bottom, words that’ll land like blows where I am weakest.
She is weak of character.
And I am. I’m faced with more than I can handle, and I want to turn to someone. To Marcus or Ian. To Simon, who I’ve barely spoken to since our disastrous kiss.
To Luca.
In the end, it’s finally Luca’s number I punch into my phone, unblocking it for the first time in weeks. I hide myself away in the bathroom, curling down low in the cold, empty porcelain tub, and hit the call button.
He answers on the third ring and the way he says my name is a balm so sweet it brings tears to my eyes.
