"Callum is a good man…"
I swing my other leg over the railing, and that's when it hits me.
The scent.
I’ve only been an omega for three weeks, and with no suppressants, I'm still learning what my nose is telling me, but right now? Right now it's screaming.
Melissa smells like Callum's cologne. Not just a whiff from a hug or sitting too close. She'sdrenchedin it. Cedar andbergamot and that expensive stuff his mother buys him in bottles.
And underneath it?
Oh.
Oh.
How did I miss this? Every time she disappeared during wedding prep, she came back smelling like him. Every time I couldn't find Callum, she'd show up twenty minutes later with that same scent clinging to her skin. Every time she defended him, championed him, told me I was overreacting—
I'm an idiot.
No. I was abetawho couldn't smell worth a damn. Now I'm an omega, and suddenly the last three months make perfect sense.
"You're right," I say, and the laugh that comes out is half-hysterical, half-relieved. "He does deserve someone like you. Someone who thinks his behavior is patience instead of control."
Melissa's face goes pale. "Jessica—"
"Someone who's been screwing him behind my back."
She freezes. Mom gasps.
"Oh, don't look so shocked, Melissa. I cansmellhim on you. I mean, seriously, did you two even shower? Or did you just roll out of bed and come straight here to help me into my wedding dress?" I grab the trellis and start climbing down, because if I don't move right now, I'm going to say something I can't take back.
"Congratulations, by the way. You can have him. Consider this my wedding gift to you both."
The dress catches on branches. The bodice digs into my ribs. My new omega nose is still cataloging scents—his cologne, her perfume, the mixing of them that can only mean one thing—and God, how was I soblind?
Oh right. Because I wasn't an omega three weeks ago.
Because scent meant nothing when I was a beta.
Because I trusted them both.
"Jessica, wait—" Melissa leans over the railing, but I'm already halfway down.
"Have a great life, Melissa. I hope you two are very happy together. Really. I mean it."
I don't mean it. But I also don't care anymore.
My foot finds purchase on a thick branch. Then another. The ground is getting closer, and freedom is getting sweeter.
I drop the last few feet to the ground, landing in the soft earth of the flower bed. My veil catches on a branch above me, and I yank it free, letting it fall.
I hear her talking, but I'm already running.
Through the side garden. Past the fountain with its cherubs and flowing water. Around the corner of the estate where the parking lot stretches out ahead of me.
Cars everywhere. Guests still arriving, late and flustered. The photographer by the garden entrance, checking his equipment. The venue coordinator talking urgently into her headset.
No one notices the bride in the ruined dress sprinting across the grass like her life depends on it.
