Chapter 9 #2
My face is hot as I walk past the women standing in front of the mirrors, where they were busy reapplying lipstick and talking trash about me.
With every step I take, I feel them watching me.
As I push the bathroom door open and step out into the hotel lobby, the whispering starts up. The second the door slams shut behind me, they explode into laughter.
I walk down the hallway, toward the hotel’s ballroom, dreading taking one step back into that room. I’m going to find my alphas to tell them I’m ready to leave. If they want to stay, they can send me back with the limo, and the driver can return to pick them up later.
I am not staying here a second longer than I have to.
“Miss. Harrington?” A server approaches me before I can re-enter the ballroom.
“Yes?” I turn to face him.
An omega takes her pack’s name, yet I’m not Juniper Wells when I should be. My alphas made me theirs, but they couldn’t make it any clearer that they don’t really want me.
“Pack Wells has sent the car back for you.”
I stare at the server, struggling to believe what I’m hearing. “They left?”
I knew it could be a possibility, but I never believed they would actually leave me here.
His expression remains a blank slate. All his judgment is happening on the inside, and later, will be shared as gossip with the other staff.
I reach for my polite mask, clinging to it with ragged nails. “Please get my coat. I’m ready to leave now.”
“Yes, Miss.”
By the time I reach the hotel entrance, a dark-haired beta is waiting to help me into my coat, floor-length black wool that my mother got me for Christmas. Another member of the hotel staff holds open the door of the limo, ready for me to slip inside.
I hesitate as an intrusive thought snakes through my mind.
You could leave.
I could tell the driver that I’m going back home to my parents' house. Pack Wells wouldn’t miss me for even a second if I walked away from them.
And I know my parents. Reputation means more to them than I do.
They might let me stay the night if I lied and said Pack Wells were out of town. But I couldn’t stay with them for good.
I get in the back of the limo. Someone slams the door shut, and I close my eyes and tilt my head back, suppressing more tears. Once I’m back in my room, I can let out all the pain and the hurt from all this public humiliation.
They’re in the games room, a door that’s almost always kept closed since it’s where they spend most of their time.
I track the sound of their laughter, unsteady on my feet from too much champagne and not eating nearly enough of the chicken salad Veronica made for my dinner. Maybe it’s the alcohol giving me the courage to do what I should have done weeks ago.
The door is open a couple of inches.
If I knock, they’ll tell me to go away. So, I don’t knock. I push the door open and step inside. They’re too busy laughing with each other to notice me straightaway.
Callum spots me first, his face freezing and laughter dying.
Archer’s expression turns blank.
Torin’s smile morphs into a sneer, and I look away, remembering how perfect our first meeting was, and how he twisted it into something that makes me feel so ashamed.
“You left without me,” I say when they do nothing but look at me, as if waiting for me to leave.
Callum turns back to the pool table. “You know the way back.”
They focus on the pool table, pretending I don’t exist.
I shift from foot to foot, uncomfortable. Unwelcome. And not just in this game's room. “I want to leave.” My voice isn’t loud, but it fills the room and freezes the men standing around the pool table.
Callum’s eyes flick to me, and he lines up his next shot and takes it. “So, leave.”
He can’t mean that, can he?
My gaze slides to Archer.
He’s leaning one hip on one corner of the table, sipping from a glass of whiskey, his eyes on a corner pocket where a striped red ball just disappeared into.
I turn around to walk away.
“He’ll destroy you; you know that, right?” Torin calls out lazily, a dark edge creeping into his voice.
I turn around, confused. “I don’t understand.”
Torin is looking at me as if I’m lacking. Ashamed and disgusted with myself and him, I look away, concentrating on his chin instead. Meeting his eyes hurts too much.
“You’re his until he’s exacted his pound of flesh.”
It isn’t Torin who tells me this. It’s Archer.
His words make me feel uneasy. The look in his eyes makes me cold. Afraid.
“Walk away,” he tells me with quiet intensity. “But don’t expect us to save you if you don’t like what he demands in return. And you won’t. Take it from someone who knows.”
It’s not the coldness of his voice that scares me the most. It’s the ring of truth. Something terrible will happen to me if I leave. He isn’t threatening me with it. He’s promising that I won’t be safe.
Before they turned against me, Archer said there weren’t many people in their world that they could trust. So who is waiting in the shadows to hurt me?
I open my mouth to ask, but just like that, I’m back to being forgotten. A side table or an ugly vase inherited from a distant relative. There, but easy to ignore.
I walk out of the games room, leaving the door open. Halfway up the staircase, I pause when I hear someone close the door.
Once again, shutting me out.