“My parents.” Noa trails off as the sound of a door opening snaps our attention back to the car.
“Dear, what is this?” A feminine voice says as a woman and a man, both betas by their scents, exit the car. They are both dressed in suits that scream expensive. A woman in a gray suit with pearls around her neck and ears. Her hair is pulled back so tight that I think her eyebrows are being pulled back, too.
“Noa, not texting back is rude, and we raised you better than this,” says the man who must be her dad. He’s as tall as I am, yet shrunken down by the way he constantly has to fix his posture. His shoulders move back and forth like wings on a bird, and I refrain from staring at them, as I may laugh and make this awkward encounter worse.
It’s different being on the outside of these kinds of encounters. I know this kind of person. I grew up with soulless parents who didn’t care who you were and only wanted you to be whatever it was they wanted.
The parents who were molding you to be the best in their eyes, instead of getting to know you.
They stomp on your dreams, your feelings, until you break free. I did when I finally got an offer from theScented Scorpions and flew to Nashville. Never to talk to my parents again.
How Noa shrinks into herself lets me know she hasn’t broken away yet. Little did my omega know that she had a professional bird on her team.
“Mom, Dad,” she says, her hand pushing Silas to the left a bit and peeking her head around him. Just enough to see them, and my chest swells seeing the comfort she has in our Pack as her hand wraps around Silas’s biceps. “What are you doing here?”
“Bringing you home, of course,” her mother says with a simple shrug of her shoulder that has me growling. Taking my omega away? I don’t fucking think so.
“I am home?—”
“Don’t start that nonsense; you had your fun; now it’s time to face reality.”
“It’s dangerous to be here alone; you’re an omega,” her father says, stepping forward and reaching a hand out, but Silas steps to the right, covering Noa, so he gets the message.
“Who are these men?” Noa’s mother snaps and makes Noa push on Silas to move out of her way and take her stance in front of our Pack.
“My scent matches.” She smiles a bit as she stares back at us, her hand still gripping Silas’s arm.
“Impossible—”
“Not impossible. Scent matches aren’t rare, just hard to find,” Noa says.
“You have a Pack,” her dad argues, and this bit of information makes all of us freeze.
She has a Pack?
“No—“ she argues, but they cut her off.
“Yes, the Fallon Pack?—“
“Stop,” she yelps, turning to us and giving her back to her parents as she looks at us. Her eyes are wide with worry, and that makes the pit in my stomach solidify.
“Stop what? Telling the truth! Boys, I don’t know what she’s told you, but?—”
“She’s not bonded, with all due respect, so she can’t have a Pack,” Silas says. As confident as he sounds, I know this information has shocked him in the way he’s yet to look at Noa. He’s nervous. Just as nervous as I am about this. What does this mean?
His friendly persona is long gone as he straightens his shoulders and looks at Noa’s parents.
“Well, even then, she certainly is not bonding to you,” her mother says, waving Noa to come to her, but Noa doesn’t move.
Her grip on Silas tightens, and heat washes over me. Maybe it’s her sharpening scent, maybe it’s the distress my omega is in, but I’ve had enough. My eye meets Havoc’s, and he nods.
“Do you have a hotel tonight?” I snip, interrupting whatever rant they were going on about.
Noa scrunches her eyebrows, maybe confused, but I’ve had enough of her parents ruining our night.
“Of course, we couldn’t stay in this?—“
“Then go to it,” I say, grabbing Noa’s hand and walking her to her front door. She’s staring at the doorknob in shock, and I turn my back to her parents, focusing solely on her.
