What a rat bastard.
Cash stepped forward, making her whirl around. So easily spooked. “That’s a beautiful hair comb. A friend of ours, Millie, has one just like it. She wears it all the time.”
“Millie?” Our first genuine reaction. “It was my friend Millie who gave this to me for my birthday. She was my best friend.”
York smiled at her. His smile comforted people. Unlike mine. “Millie is our friend. She’s mated to a pack we know. She’s got a great life. I don’t think we have a lot of time, but we wanted to tell you that you are our scent match. We are sure of it. Our bears are sure of it. If you don’t want this life, and we have a feeling you don’t, then say the word and we’ll take you away, omega. We can help you.”
Isabella opened her mouth to speak. My heart flitted inside my chest, wondering how her words would shift our future,when someone behind us cleared his throat. Mark. The husband. Fuck.
“Thank you three for coming. I didn’t realize we invited you, but it’s perfect. You can see more of the house now.” His dark, beady eyes turned on Isabella. Goddess, I hoped this encounter didn’t cause her more harm. “Thank you for looking after my wife. She does love the fresh air. Isabella, it’s time to go back to the party, darling.”
I made a note to never call her darling. He made the endearment sound like a curse.
He reached for her, and she took his hand.
“Thank the nice men for looking after what’s mine.” Each syllable came out like venom.
Isabella turned to us after walking toward him. “I give you mywordof thanks, gentlemen.”
She moved back to the party, and we shared a look. “Did she say what I think she said?” I’d never been more frantic in my life.
“She did. I don’t think that’s how she really talks. We asked her to say the word, and she saidword.”
“Did you feel the rage coming off him? He wasn’t happy she was with us.” I looked at where she’d once stood, replaying the short conversation in my head.
“He was pissed. He is a weak man.” Cash walked over and touched the railing at the same place she did. His nostrils flared as he took in all the residual scent that he could. “We’re getting her out of here. One way or another. And as fast as possible.”
Chapter Nine
Isabella
My alarm went off at dawn. Not a surprise, it always did; but today was especially painful for a lot of reasons.
I kept my groaning to myself as I breathed through the pain. My abdomen ached. My sides hurt the worst and as I sat up, twisting left and right, I wondered if he’d actually broken something this time.
He had before. Once. He brought me to a hack-job healer who put tape around my midsection and told me to take aspirin. I did. But without much food, it hurt my stomach. Never once did the healer care that my husband was the one who bruised the rib in the first place.
Mark paid cash. I didn’t fill out any forms.
I had another beating coming my way. If not for the overconsumption of booze and the distraction of his mistress the night before, I would’ve certainly blacked out from it.
All for talking to three men on a balcony. If only he knew what those men said.
And who they were to me.
I could only hope they got the message I tried to give them—before Mark killed me. As we talked to some of his associates, he pinched my side hard, several times. A promise of what was to come. After a long, hot shower, I dressed in my jogging pants and matching shirt for a full day of cleaning. The catering crew cleaned up after themselves, but I would be responsible for the rest of the mess, on top of my regular chores.
Mark wasn’t up yet. Hungover, he probably wouldn’t wake up until after noon, his routine after one of his parties.
But my life went on. They said there was no rest for the wicked, but I was the best omega I could be, and it had been years since I had any real rest.
I started in the kitchen. The catering crew did the best they could, but Mark’s specifications were precise. They had no idea.
Pausing for just a moment to look out the window, I wished it would be so easy to simply walk out the front door. File for divorce. He could have the house and the cars and whatever money we had—as long as I had my freedom from him.
But my husband saw me as nothing more than his property. Another thing he would never let go of.
Last night, seeing Cash and Lyon and York, I was flooded with emotions. If things were different, I would’ve run into their arms and let them whisk me away. Their scent made my head fuzzy and my knees weak. In those few minutes, my world narrowed to me and them. No Mark. No mistress. No beatings. No lists or expectations that could never be met. No moving goalposts. No unattainable life to upkeep.
