Because I was a stupid fucking kid who thought cruelty made you powerful.
I shake off the memory like a dog shaking off water. I do not have time for guilt right now. I have enough problems without adding a guilt trip to the pile.
Speaking of problems.
Cal is standing on the other side of the living room, arms crossed, amber eyes still simmering with the kind of anger I have never seen from him before. His lip is split where my fist connected, a thin line of dried blood at the corner of his mouth. His knuckles are probably as bruised as mine, hidden under the sleeves of his hoodie.
He is not looking at me.
That is somehow worse than if he was actively glaring.
I still do not fully understand what happened. One minute we were having a normal argument about the Omega situation. The next minute, I said something about not being a softy just to make her comfortable, and Cal just... snapped.
Lost his absolute shit.
Came at me like I had insulted his mother or kicked his dog or committed some unforgivable sin against everything he holds sacred.
All because I said I was not going to roll out the welcome mat for some Omega who was intruding on our space uninvited. All because I refused to pretend I was happy about this arrangement.
What the fuck is his problem?
I know what he would say if I asked. He would bring up his younger sisters. The twins, Maya and Madison, who are fourteen years old and presented as Omegas last year. Cal has been different since then. More protective. More aware of the shit Omegas go through just for existing in a world that treats them like commodities.
He would say he does not want to be the kind of Alpha their sisters would be afraid of. Does not want to contribute to a culture that makes Omegas feel unsafe.
Noble sentiment.
But I call bullshit.
Because Cal has never given a damn about random Omegas before. He is not some white knight crusading for Omega rights. He fucks them and forgets them just like the rest of us.
Just like I do.
So why is Mabeline Mae Rose suddenly worthy of his protection?
I have a theory. And I do not like it one bit.
He probably wants to smash her. Wants to be the good guy, the sensitive Alpha, the one who makes her feel safe and valued so she will spread her legs and let him sink his knot into her before I can even blink.
That is the only explanation that makes sense.
That is the only reason he would suddenly develop a conscience about the girl we spent an entire year tormenting.
Manipulative bastard.
I huff in annoyance, crossing my own arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. The bruise on my cheekbone throbs with every heartbeat, a reminder of how thoroughly Cal handed me my ass in that fight.
Went for the knees. The dirty fucker went for the knees.
But even my wounded pride is not enough to distract me from the bigger problem.
The place smells like her.
Not overwhelming. Not in-your-face. Just there. A whisper of vanilla sugar and frosted roses threading through the air, settling into the furniture, clinging to the walls. She has been inside this dorm for maybe twenty minutes and already her scent is everywhere, marking territory she has no right to claim.
And the worst part?
It does not smell bad.
