Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Artemis
The sedan that pulled up to my cabin was silver, sensible, and exactly the kind of car my mother would drive—nothing flashy, nothing that might draw attention, nothing that might suggest the family had any personality whatsoever.
I knew who it was before the doors opened.
Knew it in my gut, in the way my scent soured and my hands started to shake, in the way my heart dropped into my stomach like a stone.
"Artemis?" Harper's voice came from behind me, his heavy footsteps crossing the porch, concern bleeding into his tone. I felt him stop just behind my shoulder, his warmth at my back, his scent shifting from relaxed contentment to sharp alertness. "Who's—"
"My parents," I whispered, and my voice sounded strange to my own ears, distant and flat, like it belonged to someone else entirely. My fingers had gone numb. My chest felt hollow. "My parents are here."
Harper went rigid beside me, his massive frame coiling with tension, every muscle in his body locking tight. I could feel the rumble building in his chest before he suppressed it. "The ones who—"
"Yes." I couldn't say more. Couldn't explain. My throat had closed up, sixteen years of buried pain suddenly clawing its way to the surface like something that had been waiting in the dark.
The driver's door opened first. My father emerged—Richard Delacroix, tall and distinguished, gray at the temples now, wearing khakis and a polo shirt like he was heading to the country club.
Even from here I could catch hints of his Alpha scent—something sharp and astringent, like expensive cologne trying too hard.
He'd always been the quieter of the two, content to let my mother run the show, content to stand behind her decisions even when those decisions involved shipping their only daughter off to the bayou like damaged goods.
Then the passenger door opened, and there she was.
Colette Delacroix looked exactly the same as she had the last time I'd seen her—perfectly coiffed blonde hair, tasteful pearl earrings, that expression of perpetual disappointment that I'd spent my entire childhood trying and failing to wipe away.
Her Alpha scent hit me even across the distance—sharp and dominant, the kind of scent that demanded submission from lesser dynamics.
She was wearing a cream-colored blouse and pressed navy slacks, as if she'd dressed for a charity luncheon rather than destroying her daughter's peace.
Two Alphas. They'd expected an Alpha child, a proper heir to continue their legacy of dominance and control.
Instead, they'd gotten me—an Omega. I still remembered the way my mother's face had fallen when I presented.
The way my father had left the room without a word.
Their disappointment had been written on their faces from that moment forward, and it had never faded.
Being an Omega had been reason enough to get rid of me entirely.
"Artemis," she called out, her voice carrying that particular blend of false warmth and barely concealed reproach that had defined my entire childhood, her heels sinking into the soft ground as she picked her way toward the cabin like the mud personally offended her. "We need to talk, sweetheart."
The endearment made my stomach turn.
"No," I said, not moving from my spot on the porch, planting my feet like roots growing into the wood, "we don't." I heard the screen door open behind me—Remy and Silas, drawn by the tension crackling in the air, by the way my scent had gone sharp and bitter.
The boards creaked under their weight, and I felt the air change as they took in the scene.
"What's going on?" Remy asked, his usual playfulness completely absent, his amber eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. His bare feet were silent on the porch boards as he moved to flank me, his body angling protectively, the muscles in his arms tensing beneath his sun-kissed skin.
"Her parents," Harper said, the words clipped and hard as granite, his hand settling on the small of my back in a gesture of support. His palm was warm through my thin shirt, steady and grounding.
"Ah." Silas's voice was soft, dangerous, his pale eyes fixing on my parents with predator intensity as he positioned himself on my other side. He moved like smoke, like shadow, and something in his stillness promised violence if it became necessary. "The ones who abandoned her."
The morning air seemed to thicken between us—my pack on the porch, my parents in the yard, and years of pain stretched taut as a wire about to snap.
My mother's perfectly composed face flickered with something—irritation, maybe, or the faintest hint of shame—before smoothing back into that mask I knew so well.
Her eyes swept over the three Alphas flanking me, and her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
"I see," she said, each word dripping with judgment, her chin lifting as if she'd just confirmed her worst suspicions. "So it's true, then. Everything they told us."
"Everything who told you?" I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended, my nails digging into my palms.
"Crescent Holdings reached out to us last week," my father said, speaking for the first time, his voice that same measured, reasonable tone he'd always used when delivering bad news, as if being calm made betrayal acceptable.
"They were concerned about you, sweetheart.
They said you were being... influenced. Manipulated by—"
"By three Alphas who've taken advantage of a vulnerable Omega living alone," my mother finished, her voice hardening into something righteous and ugly, her eyes raking over Harper, Remy, and Silas like they were dirt on her designer shoes.
"They said you were in over your head. That you needed your family. "
A laugh tore out of me—harsh and broken and nothing like humor, scraping my throat on the way out. "My family," I repeated, tasting the bitterness of the word. "That's rich, Mother. That's really rich."
"Don't take that tone with me, young lady," my mother snapped, her composure cracking, color rising in her cheeks as she climbed the first porch step like she still had any right to enter my home. "We drove six hours to help you. The least you could do is—"
"The least I could do?" I descended a step, putting myself between her and my Alphas, my whole body trembling with rage I'd buried for over a decade. "You want to talk about the least someone could do? Let's talk about the least you could do when your sixteen-year-old daughter needed her parents."
"Artemis—" my father started, his hand reaching toward me like he might actually touch me after all these years.
"Don't." I jerked away from him, and he flinched like I'd slapped him, his hand dropping uselessly to his side. "Don't you dare reach for me like you have any right. You lost that right when you stood there and watched her pack my bags."
"We were trying to protect you," my mother insisted, her voice climbing an octave, her perfect mask crumbling at the edges to reveal the desperation underneath. "You were... different. You presented wrong. We thought Marguerite could help you understand how to be a proper Omega, how to—"
"A proper Omega?" I laughed, the sound jagged and raw. "You mean a quiet one. A submissive one. One who wouldn't embarrass her Alpha parents by existing."
"That's not what I—"
"You sent me away because I was an Omega," I cut her off, my voice rising with every word. "Because two Alpha parents were supposed to have Alpha children, and instead you got me. I saw how you looked at me when I presented. Like I was defective. Like I'd done it on purpose just to spite you."
"We were trying to protect you," my mother insisted again, but the words rang hollow. "You were wild. Uncontrollable. You wouldn't submit to anyone, wouldn't behave the way an Omega should. We sent you to Marguerite because we thought she could help you understand—"
"Understand what?" I snarled, and the sound that came out of my chest was barely human, a growl that made both my parents stumble back a step in shock.
"Understand how to be small and quiet and obedient?
Understand how to hide who I really was so you wouldn't be embarrassed at your country club?
" I took a shuddering breath, feeling the old wound rip open fresh.
"Two Alpha parents, and you got an Omega. Must have been such a disappointment."
My mother's face went rigid, a muscle twitching in her jaw.
"That's what it was really about, wasn't it?" I continued, the pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. "Not how I acted—what I was. An Omega daughter when you expected an Alpha heir. I embarrassed you just by existing."
"That's not—" my father started, but the guilt on his face told me everything.
"You couldn't parade me around at your Alpha social clubs," I said, my voice shaking with fury and grief. "Couldn't brag about your Alpha daughter following in your footsteps. Instead you got an Omega who refused to be quiet and submissive. No wonder you couldn't ship me off fast enough."
"I never said disgusting—" my mother protested, her voice pitching higher with defensive outrage, her hands fluttering at her sides.
"You didn't have to!" The words ripped out of me like shrapnel, years of pain and rejection finally finding their target.
My voice echoed off the cypress trees, sent birds scattering from the branches overhead.
"I saw your face when I presented as an Omega.
I saw the way you looked at me like I was something dirty.
Something shameful. You couldn't ship me off fast enough. "