Chapter 3
THREE
Faye
I jump when there’s a knock at the door. Who the hell would be visiting me? Apparently, my plan to go unnoticed is already failing after barely an hour of being at The Selection. The person knocking doesn’t wait for me to invite them in before they push the door open, letting in the sounds from the hallway.
“Good evening, miss,” a man says, holding out a big white box.
I stare in confusion. He’s obviously a servant in the household, a beta shifter, but what has he brought me and why? My anxiety creeps up as a heavy weight settles in my stomach.
“Faye Hallow?” And I get the sense he’s trying to nudge me since I haven’t responded.
“Yes,” I respond, but the word comes out barely above a whisper.
“We were informed by your alpha, Charles, some time ago that you’d be requiring a full wardrobe to properly represent your pack. He, generously, sponsored your entire wardrobe for the duration of your stay at The Selection in hopes of… making you more desirable to the other alphas. This is your attire for the event this evening. The rest of your new outfits will be delivered to your room before nightfall,” he says, reaching forward and taking the lid off the box.
He reveals a sparkling emerald green dress and a matching mask. It’s shiny and probably pretty, but I’ve never owned a dress, so I wouldn’t begin to know if it really is. He’s watching me, waiting for a response, but I don’t know what to say. My eyes skip past him, looking out into the hallway, where other omegas are still finding their rooms and chatting with one another.
Would anyone notice me if I just disappeared?
When my eyes flit back to the servant’s eyes, he’s frowning, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. I tense, knowing the frown is because of me, but having no idea why. I’ve been away from society for so many years, alone in my cabin, that I’ve forgotten how to act, forgotten all social norms, and that realization only deepens my anxiety over what will be coming after this.
Maybe I can just run? I can shift, race through the woods, and find my way back home. Can’t I? My eyes dart back to the hall, and my hands curl into fists.
As if reading my mind, he says in a low voice, “I understand that, as an omega, your instincts might be telling you to run. It’s highly inadvisable. The Selection has a specific committee dedicated to ensuring all eligible omegas are present for the event. No matter where you go, they’ll find you, and they’ll drag you back.”
I shiver, remembering how the alpha of my pack had chased me through the woods with his men and then tossed me over his shoulder like I was nothing. Would a group of shifters who don’t know me or my background be gentler? I doubt it. I seriously doubt it.
“You should also know that it’s required that every omega attends each event during The Selection. Anyone who fails to show up for an event will be brought to the event by force. Our goal here is to have every girl leave with at least one mate. Although it is common for alphas to return to The Selection, sometimes several times, we know that’s not in the best interest of the women. Leaving an omega to go into heat on her own, to be mated by an assigned pack member, with protection, until she can return to The Selection next year is not preferable.” He says all of this with a stern voice of warning, like he’s aware of just how little I know about all of this. “The first event is only a short time away. You’ll know it’s occurring when the bell rings, so you’ll need to hurry and get ready.”
This sounds like a fun place to be.
“Okay,” I say, letting my gaze fall to the ground.
More than anything, I just want this guy to leave my room. I just want to sit alone with my thoughts until I’m forced to take another step forward in this nightmare. Can’t I have even a few minutes of peace?
He stares for me a moment longer, sets the box on my bed, then turns on his heel, shutting the door behind him. I’ve no more than fallen back onto the bed, throwing the box with the gown to the side, when there’s another knock on the door.
You have to be kidding me. The servant probably came back to school me again, and I can’t stand the thought of talking to him. My social battery is already done. My body is all over the place with the new people and new things. I just want to crawl into the corner of my cabin, the warm spot near the fireplace, and sleep forever.
The knock comes again.
“Okay,” I say, but I can’t seem to move. Can’t seem to face one more person and one more thing.
There’s another knock. This time louder, which pisses me off. But at least my anger is enough to get me to stand up and start toward the door.
“I said, okay!” I grumble, swinging the door open. “I’m not going to?—”
“ Faye .” The soft voice is familiar, like a dream I’ve had too many times before. Only, it doesn’t belong to someone from my dreams.
“Addilyn?” I say her name in shock.
Addilyn stands in front of me, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. Her long brown hair has been braided intricately on her head, drawing attention to the soft lines of her jaw, and her big hazel eyes. Her short legs peek out from a sparkling pink dress that’s obviously been tailored to fit her small frame.
My brain rushes through a montage of memories—from us playing in the creek together to her giving me a princess makeover. Addilyn was my closest friend in the village before Miles died. She stood at my side when we buried both my grandfather and my grandmother. Yet, when I lost my brother… it was too much. Talking to people. Being near them. Just too much. Even when it came to Addilyn. Even though she was one of the few people who believed me about Kurt.
My throat feels thick. Conflicting feelings rise up inside of me. I abandoned her. I was not a good friend to her. She has every right to be angry with me, to want nothing to do with me.
“Hi,” I say, and to my shock, a moment later we’re in each other's arms. I have to swallow rapidly to keep a sob from climbing up my throat.
“It’s so good to see you,” she says.
It is? I can’t imagine that’s true. Even now, grief holds me firmly in its grip, making it hard to breathe, to even function. I am not someone anyone should want to see or be around me, least of all someone I was so shitty to.
“It’s good to see you too,” I say, then more softly, “I missed you.”
Our hug lasts for too long, probably, but I find I like it. I hadn’t thought I’d missed the company of other people, the touch of other people, but maybe I had. Yet, soon I’ll go back to my quiet cabin, so I shouldn’t get used to hugs and touches.
She finally ends the hug, pulling back and staring at me. Her gaze moves from my head to my toes, probably seeing how my white-blonde hair falls limply on my shoulders, or the fact that I know my jeans and t-shirt have holes in them. And that’s if she isn’t focusing on just how much weight I’ve lost since my brother’s funeral. Whatever she’s noticing, it can’t be good. There’s nothing good about me.
“I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this,” Addilyn says, laughing and wiping a tear away from her face.
“Not at all, please come in.” I usher her into my room and close the door behind her.
She smiles. “I thought I saw you in the hallway earlier. I was surprised because everyone from Pack Ivory, except for you, was brought in a couple days ago. Today’s bus was the last one and just for the stragglers.” She seems to realize she’s babbling and takes a deep breath. “I just—I needed to come and say hello.”
Guilt, potent and sour, pools in my belly like warm tar. I can hardly stand to look at her. All I can think about is the last time I saw her.
We’d bumped into each other at the local market, on one of my rare trips into town for supplies. At that point, I was submerged in my grief, and I’d already gone months without talking to her or answering her calls. Hell, when she came out to my cabin a few weeks after a trip to town, I’d pretended I wasn’t home even though she knew I was.
At the market, we’d made eye contact over a display of flowers, and I’d turned and ran down the street while she called after me. I remember that moment, and how all I could think about was running away, my body too steeped in guilt and grief and anger to handle talking to her so I could apologize to her for ignoring her for months.
I haven’t seen her since that day in the market, and she looks even lovelier now than she did then. Addilyn is all kind eyes and dark hair, and my heart aches for her friendship in such a deep part of my soul that it’s staggering. The realization leaves me reeling. I thought I was happy without any friends. Aren’t I?
“Addilyn,” I say, the sob that’s been threatening to appear finally ripping out, making me hiccup. I put my hands under my eyes to try and quell the tears. “I’m so sorry—I can’t explain what it was like, after—after everything?—”
Her face gentles. “You don’t have to apologize. If my family member was murdered by an asshole, and everyone just pretended it didn’t happen, I don’t know what I would do either,” she says, moving forward and giving me another quick hug. “At the time, it hurt my feelings. But my mom lost her brother, too, and she explained to me that grief is different for everyone. And you were so alone. I just wish I could have been there for you.”
A picture forms in my mind of me going through the last few years with Addilyn in my life. My gut clenches, and my heart aches. Everything would have been so different, even though it wouldn’t be fair to her. No one should have to deal with a person that broken.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I don’t know what else to say.
“Forget about it.” She smiles. “Crazy that we see each other again here though, isn’t it?”
“Crazy is one word for it,” I say, and I actually manage to laugh.
We’re both the same age, so this is the first year both of us would have to attend The Selection. I should’ve thought of that before I was even brought here. I would have thought about it, if I wasn’t so caught up in my own head.
“I’m just so happy to have someone I know here,” Addilyn says, her voice a bit higher than normal. “Since I got on that bus, my stomach’s just been churning.”
“I can relate to that,” I say, thinking of the many times I almost vomited on the bus. “That’s why I’m hiding away in here. I just feel so…overwhelmed.”
Overwhelmed is an understatement, but she doesn’t need to know that. If we’re going to be seeing each other here, I need to try my best to hide the jagged little pieces of myself. Addilyn is a good person. She doesn’t deserve to “cut” herself due to me being in pieces.
“Yes, but hopefully, it will go quickly, and we can both find our mates! I’ve always dreamed of finding my mate, ever since we were little—do you remember that?” She gets a dreamy look on her face as she talks, and a sweet smile lifts the corners of her mouth.
Vague memories crop up of Addilyn talking about wanting to have seven mates, one for each day of the week. She said she’d divide up who did each chore, including cooking, and they’d all try their hardest to get her little gifts. And if they did a good job, she’d reward them with a kiss.
“Yes, I remember.” I chuckle. While Addilyn would daydream about becoming an adult, I would desperately cling to remaining a child. “But—I’m not particularly interested in finding my mate.”
“Oh, come on, Faye,” she says, wrinkling her brow. “I know that’s what you always said when we were kids but…well, that’s kid stuff, isn’t it? Surely you’ve changed your mind since then.”
Change my mind? Not a chance. As much as she looked forward to a house full of people, I hated the idea. People are complicated. People are fragile. And when you love someone, it’s pretty much a guarantee that you’ll lose them. It just depends on when.
If anyone should know it's me. I’d lost my parents, my grandparents, and finally my brother. I'd lost more people in my twenty-one years than most lose in a lifetime, especially with how long shifters typically live. Losses like mine… they just don’t happen.
When I shrug, Addilyn shakes her head and continues talking. “When I spoke to my aunt about not having a mate—she said it’s one of the most terrifying things you can experience as an omega. Going into heat without a mate. It gives me shivers when I think about it. Have you, sorry if this is a bit too personal, but have you seen any of the signs?”
I think about the hot flashes, the moments of extreme confusion and then ultra-clarity. The itching under my skin to get as close as I can to another person.
“No,” I say, shaking my head as I lie. “No, thank the gods.”
“I’m terrified of the idea,” Addilyn says, just as a loud bell rings throughout the building.
I jump. Shit. Is it time for the first event already? I thought I had more time to prepare. Time to figure out my plan. When I glance at Addilyn, I realize that she’s already wearing her gown. Her mask sits next to her on the bed.
My gaze meets her eyes. “I’m not ready.”
“Come on,” Addilyn says with a laugh, jumping to her feet, “let’s get you dressed for the ball.”
That’s not what I meant by, “I’m not ready.” Another sob starts to creep up my throat, coupled with anxiety roiling in my stomach, but I push it down and get to my feet, accepting Addilyn’s help. Some part of me knows that my only choice is to leave this room on my own or to be dragged out of it. If I’m going to have to do this no matter what, I’d rather do it on my own.
After quickly undressing, I step into the gown and Addilyn laces it up in the back. Then she brushes out my blonde hair and lays it delicately on my shoulders. Every second she works, all I can do is stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look… fragile. Like the softest wind could blow me over. How did I get so… weak?
“Curls would do nicely,” she says, shaking her head. “Too bad there isn’t time. For tomorrow’s?—”
Another bell rings out, making my bones tremble, and Addilyn takes my hand, placing my mask in it and tugging me toward the door. For some reason, having her warm hand in mine calms me, if only by a little bit. At least if I’m going to do something terrible, I can do it with someone I like and trust.
“Come on,” she says, “time to meet our suitors!”
“Or not,” I mutter, as we step out into the hallway and join the stream of omegas funneling toward the grand staircase at the end of the hall. As we pass under an elaborate chandelier with hundreds of small candles, I send up a prayer to the gods.
Please, let them pass over me. Let me leave here unscathed, and unmated.