Page 52 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

She slides down the front of the counter and settles on the floor, back against the cabinets, tucked into the one corner where the windows can’t reach her. Out of every sightline in the room. Of course.

I hesitate, then lower myself down across from her, my back against the opposite counter, close enough in the narrow space that our knees nearly touch. I leave what distance I can.

Something about it gets to me. But I can’t picture anyone else I know folding down onto a kitchen floor to eat a sandwich in the dark. Sophie does it like it’s nothing, like she’s eaten in stranger places than this and never thought twice about it.

For a while, we just eat.

The kitchen is quiet around us, just the hum of the fridge and the tick of something cooling in the dark. Sophie works through her first sandwich with a focus that’s almost impressive, then starts on the second without pause.

I find myself talking before I realize I’m doing it.

“Synthera wasn’t always like this, you know.”

Sophie glances at me but doesn’t respond. Doesn’t tell me to shut up either, so I take that as permission to continue.

“When we first started, it was just the three of us in a small office. Max handled the business side, I did the research and kept us from killing each other, and Finn...” I smile at the memory. “Finn was supposed to be doing marketing. Mostly he kept us going, the only one who never stopped believing it would work.”

She’s still eating, but her head is angled toward me and her chewing has slowed.

“We met at boarding school, the three of us. Ashford Academy.” I take a sip of water. “Max was the brooding heir, Finn the charming one. And I was the scholarship kid who didn’t belong.”

“Scholarship kid?” She sounds almost surprised.

“Full ride. After my father died, Ashford was my ticket out.” I shrug. “It wasn’t easy. Rich kids aren’t exactly welcoming to charity cases. But Max and Finn didn’t care where I came from.”

Sophie has stopped eating. She’s watching me now, her dark eyes giving nothing away.

“That’s how the pack started, really. Three boys who didn’t quite fit anywhere else, finding each other.” I let my head rest back against the cabinet. “Twenty years later, here we are.”

The silence stretches between us. I wonder if I’ve said too much.

Then Sophie picks up her third sandwich and takes a bite.

“That’s not what I expected,” she says finally.

“What did you expect?”

She answers around a mouthful, in no hurry to swallow. “Three rich alphas who’ve had everything handed to them their whole lives.”

For a second I don’t answer. I just look at her.

Based on how she’s devouring that sandwich, it’s clear she doesn’t give a damn what I think of her. She isn’t filtering her words, and she isn’t pretending to be someone else. She’s just... being herself.

And somehow, that makes her seem startlingly human. And, God help me, kind of cute.

Jesus, where did that come from?

This is a woman who could probably break my neck in two seconds. She isn’t cute.

Well. She’s not supposed to be cute.

“Fair enough.” I turn the water bottle in my hands. “We’ve been lucky, I won’t deny that. But we also worked for what we have. Built something from the ground up.” I pause. “Something we believe in.”

Sophie is quiet for a while. When she speaks, her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

I meet her eyes. In the dim light, with her hair pulled back and her face bare of makeup, she looks younger and more vulnerable than I’ve seen her.