Chapter 60
chapter
sixty
All hell breaks loose in the lobby outside the ballroom.
Meg charges out to the valet, waving her hands and directing attendees to the lakeside deck instead of the main event space. Declan snaps to, corralling the photographers that way as well.
Remi and Cassian set off to find the security liaison and make sure they have the correct measures in place. Absently, I have the rueful thought that yes, they do. Because I coordinated with them a couple of weeks ago.
After Adrian’s rut.
Memories of him locked inside me, warm and sure all around me… My scent must do something unholy because Emma squeaks, squeezing me tighter against her side.
“We’ll get your ride back any minute, Bridget,” Micah assures, holding his phone to his ear. “The driver left, but he’s turning around. Hopefully, the valets will have the backed-up cars cleared by the time he?—”
My ears don’t quite work, I think. Or maybe they’re just reacting to the washes of fire-and-ice cascading over my face. Mortified, reddening heat; cool, gut-twisting dread. A buzz echoing against my eardrums, then silence, the beat of my own heart, more hushed voices.
“Avery isn’t answering me,” Serena mumbles to Jonah. “Is he?—”
“ Helping ,” Jonah nods, “yeah.”
His subtle inflection somehow registers where nothing else does. But, of course, if Jesse is in a raging rut in the middle of a public ballroom and won’t leave because his mate is in there… naturally, the professional fighter would help hold him back.
My numb features twitch into a wince. “T-tell him to be careful with Jesse’s arms. P-please,” I murmur, thinking of the golden alpha’s fluid grace, striking out opponents.
His genuine smiles, humble and small, shaded by the brim of his cap—but still, always striking . Even up in the stands or on TV.
My heart spasms with pure pain at the thought of losing those. I’ve already lost them, though, right? The shy, sideways grins. His long fingers weaving into mine. The glow in his hazel eyes.
Still here , he’d said. Still with you .
He won’t be, now. He’ll be with them —his mate.
And he isn’t the only one.
Adrian, with his solid devotion and unyielding certainty. Commissioning dresses, custom ordering cars. Slaying my dragons and holding me like I’m a priceless, precious prize .
Who takes care of you?
Dante—all his stupid Post-It notes and dumb jokes and always chewing something, damn him, but still so fucking gorgeous and fun and impassioned. Carving into me with those coal-hot irises. Burning bright and true .
What do I have to do? he’d whispered. To make it real?
But it never could be. For this exact reason. And out of all of them… I think Colt feared that.
Deep down—in his terrible, wonderful, breathtaking depths . Too honest, maybe. Too damaged and lonely. Lost .
But strong . Stubborn in a way I understand. Working, fighting himself with literally every step. To be better and do better and give more , God?—
Can I breathe?
Yes, I must be. Because here, darting out from the farthest gap in the row of burnished glass doors to the gala, is an all-too-familiar figure, shrouded in delicate lemon verbena.
Alicia .
She clacks over the wide, white floor, an imposing column of elegance dressed in solemn black. As if she anticipated the death of my hopes and dreams at this fucking party when she chose her ensemble.
My sister essentially says much, pointing a slender finger and harrumphing, “I knew it! I knew you shouldn’t be here. Out at events . With your ‘ pack .’” She throws up air quotes. “Now everyone— everyone —will know they dumped you! Here! In front of the entire world !”
I flinch away from every harsh, accurate word. Her herbaceous smell starts to edge closer to sour citrus.
Not as “bad” as mine, of course. Never as bad as mine.
That may be the worst part about sisters—even when you hate them, they can still read your mind. Alicia’s nostrils flare the same second I have the shame-filled thought. Her eyes bug out. “ Oh my God, Bridget ! Are you even wearing?—”
I don’t get to hear the rest of her demand, though.
Because a deep, pained roar echoes from the ballroom. My Omega tries to fling my body toward it, pleading with cries so desperate, I can’t even understand her.
Jonah barely manages to offer a hand to keep me on my feet. I think about how my acidic essence must be all over his hand now and cringe back.
Alicia’s entire body jolts. The other alphas have the decency to try to hide it, but they all balk, too. When Emma accidentally whines, Micah braves the air around us to stand between my sister and me. “Who are you?” he demands. “And what gives you the right to speak to Bridget this way?”
Alicia stares for a long second, her pretty features ravaged by disgust. Instead of answering the other alpha, she addresses me again.
“Obviously, this is all too much for you, Bridget. You shouldn’t be here.
Your scent is awful. And so strong . How could you fathom that any alpha would want to endure this ? ”
It’s embarrassing how unprepared I am, how soft I’ve gotten. She shared these thoughts daily when I lived with her. Eventually, they just rolled off my back. Hearing them now, though, after the way the Messina Pack has treated me…
Shame tightens around my guts like a noose. Cinching tighter, yanking bile up my throat. Dizziness swirls my thoughts into a dust storm of self-doubt.
Should I not be here?
Was this irresponsible or stupid?
Am I going to ruin this philanthropy?
A fierce omega snarl cracks through the lobby, bringing me back to reality. I turn to my friends, wondering which one of them took a snap at my sister. Stunned faces blink back at me—even the alphas.
Oh. Was that… me?
No , my Omega said. It was us .
Before I can figure out what the hell propelled my Omega out of her timid nature, my sister falls back a step. She stammers—and maybe I should care about her ashen face or her trembling shoulders, but all I see is her sneering expression, seared into my brain.
I want to tell her that her own sniveling husband used to leer at me, but I know she won’t believe me.
I mean, for fuck’s sake, she saw me with Adrian.
And she’s still standing here, telling me no one will ever want me.
I don’t know why she needs me to believe that—and I’m not sure why I let her convince me for so long.
Was it the doctors? Our parents?
Does it even matter? Enough is enough .
“ You always said no alpha could ever want me ,” I bark. “ But that was a lie. They did. They love me. They knew we weren’t mates and they wanted to bond with me anyway. So I guess that makes you wrong , Alicia.”
I’m crying by the end. Shouting through tears. Yelling to hear myself over the voice in my center, who’s once again sobbing and screaming.
They’re our alphas! They really are!
My heart breaks. Not with a loud bang or a sharp snap. More of a quiet sort of crumbling. My world disintegrating into ash.
And this voice, the one I’ve spent years silencing? She stood up for me. She’s here, with me. Part of me . Feeling my pain as her own, pumping her hurt into my soul. So many wishes and dreams, shattered to bits.
Because all this time? While I denied my feelings and told myself I had gotten over my silly romantic fantasies?
She held onto them for me.
How did I ever hate her for that?
Regret swamps my stomach, the unfamiliar urge to be gentle bolting onto my throat. Have I ever spoken to her with any sort of empathy? Or myself ?
No , I start to whisper, deep down, weeping with her. No, they aren’t ours, Omega. I’m sorry. I’m really so sorry ? —
“ Bridget. ”
The alpha bark pierces my buzzing eardrums. Low and urgent, but not altogether loud. I’d know it anywhere, though.
Underwater. In a cyclone. Buried six feet under.
Adrian .
He’s there, in one of the doorways to the gala. Behind him, the entire event has fallen silent. I can only hear my own breaths…
And Jesse.
Barred by two rows of alpha bodies blocking his exit. Fighting with everything he has. Growling and roaring into the ballroom’s stilted silence, while Colt barks quietly, and Dante grunts with the effort of holding him back.
I recognize Serena’s fighter, Avery, pinning Jesse’s right arm as carefully as he can while the blond alpha twists and bucks.
The other men sandwiched between Adrian and the rest of his pack are familiar, too.
The rest of my friends’ mates, all trying to keep the rutting alpha from getting into the lobby.
Beside me, Alicia shakes her head back and forth, an expression of outraged dismay expanding across her visage before mortification sinks in. Realizing this is about to become a public altercation, she ducks her head and scurries away. Embarrassed to be associated with me, as per usual.
Did that bother me a minute ago? It’s crazy how much I don’t care.
Can’t care.
Because my Omega is finally talking. Or, rather, I’m finally listening .
Our alpha , she says, panting. As if she’s been drowned, thrashing against my hold, fighting to break the surface to tell me, Our mate. HE’S OUR MATE .
But no . She’s confused . I can’t have mates. My scent is?—
Wrong?
Alicia was wrong, though. She’s the one who told me a pack would never like my natural scent. The doctors did, too, but… they were all incorrect. Weren’t they?
The gears in my mind spin out, trying to process.
But were they mistaken? My scent did just strangle all my friends’ alphas. Despite all the de-scenter I ? —
Wait.
WAIT.
I try to remember actually spraying the neutralizer on. I know I picked it up, didn’t really want to wear it, decided to use it anyway, got a dick pic from Dante, and?—
Oh .
Oh, holy shit .
Adrian is already moving, striding right for me.
Rushing me off my feet and into his arms. Folding me into his warm, masculine musk.
So strong and pure and rich. So perfect , it shoots burning sparks of bliss through my lungs.
Sends dizzy swirls of desire and need and adoration through my whole being.
Dribbling pure, raging want into my core.
And he feels… like mine.
But how? Is this even possible? Why now?
I’ve been de-scented around them before, and no one ever ? —
“Shhh,” Adrian soothes the endless churn in my mind. Pulling me into his broad strength like he’ll never let me go. “Shhh. I’m here now. Your alpha’s here. Who takes care of my baby girl?”
I’m still sobbing , damn it. My chest stutters and aches. A sloughed whine scrapes up my throat.
Adrian hums, bending to skim his lips over my pulse. “I’m here now, little blue,” he says again, a deep purr rattling against my corset. Peaking my nipples and sending fresh slick down my thighs. “I’ll always take care of you. I promised, remember?”
The moment feels surreal. Like a dream.
But—what about their mate?
What about ? —
“I knew it.” Adrian repeats the words Alicia stabbed me with, erasing my sister’s venom with a slow, sweet scent-mark on my forehead. “I knew you were meant to be mine. Our mate .”