This is pure fucking agony.
“This is a mistake,” Court mutters, the same thing he’s been saying all day. “We can’t do this now. Not after last night.”
“You want to wait until after the scent ceremony?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. “After we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she belongs to us, and we still have to reject her? Would that be better, Court?”
“We should have at least warned her,” Grieves growls, no doubt glaring at all of us.
“You know we couldn’t do that.” Thayer sounds like none of this bothers him, but I know him well enough to realize he’s as torn up about this as I am. As we all are. “We always knew we’d have to cut her eventually. We did what we could for her, kept her for as long as the queen would allow it. She made as much money as she could.”
I know what he’s saying. We took care of her in the only way we’re allowed to, keeping her for as long as we can, so she can go back with a tidy little sum of money to make her time here worth it.
If I’m honest, I’ve looked into the possibility of giving her even more, a bonus of sorts, from our pack funds, because I need—my alpha needs—to do more for her than this. Empty promises and rejection.
“That’s not why she was here though,” Court protests.
“No,” I agree. “It’s not. She was here to see if she could handle being around unfamiliar alphas long enough for them to become familiar. We helped her-”
“Helped her? That’s what you think we’re doing here? Helping her by rejecting her? Jesus Christ, Forsythe, I’ve always known you were a cold bastard, but I didn’t realize you’re this fucking cruel. We’re going to send her right back to where she was when she got here. Prove to her all over again that alphas can’t be fucking trusted. We’re going to fuckingbreakher.”
My eyes snap open, fixing on my pack mate. His assertion that I’m being cruel hurts. I don’t want to do this anymore than they do. I loathe the idea of Florence hurting because of us, because of me more specifically, because this is my fault.
An accident of birth put me in this position where I can never truly have the life I want, the pack I need, the omega that is the epitome of perfection.
“Florence is a lot stronger than you’re giving her credit for,” I say, keeping my voice as even as I can, my expression too, but I know he can see my turmoil in my eyes. “This isn’t going to break her. But waiting? Letting this go on longer, scenting her, and letting her scent us, and then sending her home. Thatwouldbreak her.”And us.
I hold his gaze, steady as I can force myself to be. “You knew what you were signing up for when you joined my pack, Court. You knew we would have to do things like this. The hard things. You’re just exceptionally lucky that this is the first real sacrifice we’ve had to make.”
Piers makes a choking sound and I wince, but I don’t take back my words. We might not be able to publicly claim him as ours, but at least he’s here with us. Even if it is only in private. That will not be the case with Florence. There wouldn’t be any reason for her to spend time with us… unless we were fucking her.
The rumors, the speculation about our relationship would run rampant, and the reputation of my family, the royal family, would be tarnished. Florence would become a homewrecker, despised by supporters of the crown.
I’m a little concerned my grandmother would kill her before she’d let that happen.
Which is another reason she needs to go.
Still, Courtland has a point, and I’m not a tyrant, no matter what my forefathers might have done to maintain their grip on power. “If you have a problem with the way this is being handled, you are always free to leave the bond.”
The words come out harsh and quiet. My body tense as I wait for him to make his decision.
Me or Florence.
Our pack or our omega.
His brothers or his pixie.
Court’s jaw ticks, but he drops his gaze.
It doesn’t feel like a victory.
The PA from before comes into the room, pausing when he feels the tension radiating from all of us. He folds in on himself, bowing his head just slightly. “They’re letting her go first,” he mutters, before scurrying away.
I blow out a breath. This at least is good news. This will make it easier on all of us.
“Are we agreed?” I ask, knowing our time is short.
“Yes,” Thayer readily agrees. But the word is hollow.
Grieves grunts out a sound that gives his assent.
