Once I’m in my room, I shut the door behind me, pressing my back against it as I exhale shakily.
“What the hell has he cooked up now?” I ask myself softly. Why would he be worried about me fucking something up for him?
Whatever it is, it can’t be good. It never is. And since he’s making sure I’m present and dressed in my best clothes, it has to involve me, in some way. My stomach starts to churn, and my heart races.
I move to my dresser and pull out the nicest thing I own, a navy blue sundress with a cream-colored sweater. It’s simple. Modest. The fabric is soft and comforting to my skin. I pull it on quickly, brushing my fingers through my hair before glancing in the mirror.
My reflection stares back at me with wide, wary eyes.
I hate this.
I hate feeling like a pawn in his twisted games, like I’m nothing more than something to be used.
But I don’t have a choice.
With a final steadying breath, I leave my room and head back down the hallway.
Dad’s already in the living room, beer in hand, dressed in his neatly pressed suit. I raise a brow, shocked that he did it himself instead of demanding that I do it.
I don’t trust him, and I begin to clench and unclench my hands. Anxiety and dread fill me.
“Set the table,” he orders, barely sparing me a glance. “We’re having two very important guests join us tonight. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
I swallow my unease and do as I’m told, laying out the plates, the silverware, the glasses. My fingers tremble slightly as I place the last plate down.
The doorbell rings, cutting through the tense silence and causing my panic to take over, my once pleasantly rich cherry fragrance disappearing.
Dad stands abruptly, setting his beer aside. His smile is wide, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s all for show.
A shiver runs down my spine.
Fuck, I wish Storm was here!
Something tells me that whatever is about to happen, it's not good.
Chapter 4
River
My father answers the door, his hard, crass voice now jovial as he talks to the person on the other side. Unfamiliar voices, each one very distinct, answer him. One stands out as cold and controlled; the other, raspy and erratic.
“Welcome to my home,” he greets them warmly.
“Elbert. Nice of you to invite us,” the erratic voice speaks. My body shivers and my heart races. Immediately, I’m filled with dread. There’s more to tonight than a simple dinner. I know that. Somehow, I don’t think the chicken is the main course tonight.
Their voices get louder, and I hurry to finish setting the table, rushing to the kitchen to bring out the food. Dad wants it on the table and ready, and it’s not. Even though he’s the one who rushed me away to get dressed before finishing. It’s not a point I’ll fight with him about; after all, it’s not like it would matter.
“An alpha is always right. An omega’s opinion means nothing.”My father’s favorite quote.
I’m just stepping back into the dining room, casserole dish in hand, when I’m hit with the most putrid smell. My eyebrowsshoot up to my hairline as my father stands there with two men, their arrogant, disgusting gazes all trained on me.
Their scents wrap around me, a mixture of sulfur and rotten eggs. My stomach rolls, and I want to puke as my eyes water.
“This is my beautiful daughter, River.” My father boasts proudly, and I fight rolling my eyes at him.
“That she is,” the one on the left with the raspy voice says. He’s attractive, maybe in his late twenties, early thirties, with shaggy black hair and tattoos on his knuckles. An alpha.
“You failed to say she was damaged,” the cold and controlled alpha says. His dark eyes pin me in place as he straightens his tie.
