Chapter 8
June
It’s been two weeks since I became Pack Wells’ omega.
I wish I had mated with Sinclair Parrish. That life would have been dull and empty, the society mating I hoped to avoid, but it wouldn’t have hurt this much.
I sleep alone.
I wander the Pack Wells mansion on an aimless mission to nowhere.
And my scent matches disappear into rooms where they immediately close the door behind them, as if wanting to make it clear that it’s no room they want me in.
I hear them talking sometimes behind those closed doors, and no matter what time I go to the dining room or the kitchen to eat my meals, I never see them.
The library has become my domain. It’s a masculine space with golden-brown paneling, a large mahogany desk in the center with deep burgundy leather chairs, two walled bookcases packed with leather-bound books, and a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the landscaped backyard.
When I don’t want to pick through the books on the shelves to find a new world I can escape into, I take The Secret Garden from my room, the book that River gave me to remember her by. I flip through the pages, missing my sister and wishing I was with her, and not here.
After I’ve eaten breakfast in the dining room, I walk into the library, as usual, and freeze in the doorway to frown at the empty table.
It shouldn’t be empty.
Closing the door as I enter, I spend the next thirty minutes searching every corner of the room for my book. It’s not one of theirs. It’s mine.
If I’d known someone would move it or take it, I wouldn’t have left it in the library. But I’ve left it on the table before and come in to read after breakfast, and it’s been where I left it.
So where is it this time?
Uneasy about losing something that means so much to me, I walk out of the library and go looking for Veronica, the only person who will talk to me in this house.
As usual, I find her in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes from breakfast. There are more plates than I expected to find piled up on the counter beside her. My scent matches must have eaten breakfast, just nowhere near me.
“Veronica?”
She looks up, pulling her wet hands from the sink and wiping them on her white half-apron. “Yes, Miss.”
I’ve told her numerous times to call me June, but she always reverts to calling me Miss every couple of days. It must be her training kicking in.
“I was reading a book last night, and I left it on the table in the library, but now I can’t find it. Have you seen it?”
She smiles apologetically at me. “No, Miss. I’m sure it’ll turn up soon. Probably one of the alphas put it away.”
My heart sinks. I was desperately hoping it wasn’t one of them.
They keep their distance, content to pretend I don’t exist. Which, after the cruel things Torin said to me, is a situation I’m not looking to change. They can live their lives. I will live mine, and maybe I can avoid more cruel words I don’t deserve.
“Oh, thanks, Veronica.”
She returns to washing dishes while I walk out of the kitchen and hover in the entryway, studying one of the doors that my scent matches always keep closed.
I’m still standing there when it starts to open.
I don’t know why, but I rush into the library and shut the door behind me.
I should ask them if they’ve seen my book, and I’d like it back. Deep down, I know I won’t. It wasn’t just the cruel things that Torin said to me that makes me want to avoid him. It’s how he looked at me.
It’s how they all looked at me.
Cold and distant, and that’s not something I want to remember, let alone experience again.
“It’ll turn up,” I tell myself. “Give it a couple of days, and if it doesn’t, get Veronica to ask them about it.”
The next day, my book is on the table in the library.
Smiling in relief that I didn’t have to ask my scent matches about my book, I flip open the cover and my eyes fill with tears.
Who would do this?
I turn the book over, and all the pages fall out in ribbons.
Shredded. This wasn’t just a book to me.
This was a priceless gift from my little sister—a book that meant everything to both of us.
If I hadn’t had River growing up, I’d have been so lonely.
We could only ever be ourselves with each other.
Laugh at stupid things. Be loud. Jump up and down on our beds.
Break all the rules our parents set for us.
But only in our rooms when they’d gone to bed.
It's not about the book. It’s about all the nights we spent giggling under the covers in her room or mine.
About knowing I would always have her, and that she would always have me.
About memories wrapped up so tight in the book my first nanny used to read to me when I was five, and I started reading it to River.
I gave the book to River before I left for Haven Academy, and she gave it back to me, so I would never feel like she was missing in my new life apart from her. I would always have a piece of her with me.
And my scent matches destroyed it.
Why?
I look at my ruined book. There’s no fixing this. No sticking the pages back together and making this right. I drag the back of my hand over my wet face, wiping away my tears.
I have stayed out of their way, made no demands on them, and even avoided asking why they suddenly hate me. Nothing I say will convince them of anything, not when they refuse to listen.
“Has your book turned up, Miss?” Veronica calls out from the kitchen.
Brushing away more tears from my cheeks, I quickly pick up the nearest trash can and empty the shredded remnants of a beloved book into it.
“Not yet,” I lie, angry and sad. “Um, don’t worry about lunch today, Veronica. I don’t feel well. I’m just going to lie down in my room.”
My heart is sick, and I feel the same way.