“You need therapy.”
“Don’t tell me what I need.” I snap.
She looks at me, so fucking innocently. “Okay.”
My brother clicks his fingers to get her focus again. “I want to know what you are taking the tablets for.”
I pull a “what the fuck” face at Dante, because what he said was stupid. We all know why she’s taking them; she’s an un-bonded Omega on the run.
“Because I can. And that’s one day off our tally, since I answered a question. Add in the days you disappeared when I first arrived, and we’re at fifty-five days now from our original agreement of sixty days for us to fake pack. Make sure you keep count, so we don’t argue later about how many days I have remaining to be your unlawfully kept wife. Ah, let’s just cut to the chase and call it what it is—your prisoner.” Without turning around from the microwave, she keeps talking. “I need to eat. This bullshit you’ve dragged me into needs my full mental capacity. Your lack of foresight is going to get me killed.”
She balances her plate of food in one hand before going back to the fridge and grabbing a soda. And then she struts out of the kitchen, leaving the fridge door wide open.
15
Layne
The sting of their deceit is a double-edge sword because I got swept up in the romance of the time I spent here. I fell for the luxury of their attention – the shopping and the trip to the beauty salon were one thing, but the way we seemingly enjoyed being with each other made for a good day was what’s gotten me acting so butt hurt now. It’s probably a good thing Pack De Luca reminded me none of this is real.
Remembering the threat from Vitale and the man spitting on the floor gives me the strength to re-read the Marriage Certificate dated today. My signature is impossible to miss, and I’d pay money to know how they forged it, until I remember they’re fucking gangsters and can forge fucking anything.
I’m legit so pissed at myself for falling, hook, line, and sinker, for all the pretty trimmings they used to lure me in, but at the same time, I’m not going to waste the opportunity of being married to them. The money at the end of this is worth the frustration.
I stomp on the pretty dress Matteo dressed me in, ignoring the longing in my chest.
Placing the food and soda on the bedside table of a spare bedroom—its existence proof of yet another lie they told—I triple-check that the knife is still stashed under the corner of my bed before I make a mad dash back to the Omega suite. Working as fast and as quietly as I can, I fill my arms with a collection of things. Mostly essentials, like T-shirts, underwear, sweats, and standard stuff from the bathroom, leaving behind pretty much anything and everything they picked out for me today.
In hindsight, I never should have run into that alley and helped a Beta. The mere thought pisses me off, since Matteo has had me second-guessing my previous assumptions about Betas. Now I’m trapped in a sham marriage that is infinitely worse than being trapped in a fake engagement.
I kick the door shut on my new bedroom, for the second time. The space is way too small to accommodate the size of their over-inflated egos, which is a bonus.
Dropping my bundle of clothes and toiletries to the plush carpeted floor, I sit on the bed and go to take a bite of the food. Of course it smells amazing, and my mouth waters, but my currently freaked-out brain decides to fixate on the mess, as opposed to my hunger.
Thanks to them.
My emotions are running rampant, colliding like I evilly imagine their beautiful cars doing. I can’t believe I fell for each smile, and every little touch, yet the whole time, they were playing me. The despair I feel bubbling inside my stupid, over-sensitive Omega heart is getting harder and harder to contain. I feel like I’m drowning.
Needing to feel safer, to cuddle and snuggle, I give up eating and get busy, distracting my emotions by making the room ascozy as possible. It’s only then that I feel settled enough to sit and eat.
I wish I could say the food tasted as good as it smelled, but I honestly chewed, swallowed, and shopped. It was a good thing for me I kept Valentine’s phone, since I didn’t even know where my wallet or bag was. It was a bad thing for Valentine that he hadn’t activated the two-step authorization process on his platinum credit card. I made it my mission to absolutely ruin his credit while also teaching him a lesson about tricking Omegas who only thought they were in this pack for a short time.
To rub salt into my vengeance, I keep copying and pasting the delivery confirmations I got from every place I shopped to the group chat the three of them shared.
And I did it until the sun rose the next day.
“Baby girl, you’re killing me,” Dante sings out.
I knew he was in the hallway. His footsteps had woken me up. The way my Omega locked on to his scent and presence was like a dog in heat, and there was no way I was going back to sleep once I knew he was out there.
It’s shameful how quickly and suddenly I’m responding to my fake husband. I’ll blame the fact I stopped taking the suppressors and using the blockers over basic genetics. The lack of medication is making me more and more aware of the Alphas lurking nearby. It sounds like BS because it is, but I’ll never admit it, not even to myself.
“Not yet, I’m not. Or has my delivery from Protection arrived?”
There’s a beat of silence before the door swings open and Dante’s head pops in. “You didn’t waste money on buying a gun, did you?”
I blink how attractive he is out of my thoughts, corralling them back to focusing on the fact I’ve been tricked by him.
“Yeah, of course I did. Three, actually.”
