Prologue #2
My eyes land on the silver-framed photograph on the corner of his desk—my parents on their wedding day.
Mom has a huge smile on her face, her red hair like fire against her white dress, her brown eyes crinkling with joy.
My dad, a Beta my grandfather was never fond of, has his eyes fixed on Mom like she was his entire world.
I got my green eyes from him. People say I got his sense of humor too, though there’s not much to laugh about these days.
“Sit,” my grandfather says, not looking up from the papers he’s signing.
I sink into the leather chair opposite his desk, the cool material sticking to my bare legs. My cutoffs and tank top feel completely out of place in this formal room, but that’s probably his point.
“I’ve been thinking about the future of this ranch,” he begins, finally setting down his pen. “About securing the Cruz legacy.”
Here we go. Another lecture about how an Omega can’t run a ranch, how I need to find a proper pack, how my value lies in what I can provide to others.
“The Henderson twins have expressed interest in a formal arrangement,” he continues, his fingers steepled on the desk. “They’re a respectable Alpha family, well-established in the community.”
I blink. “The Henderson brothers? Those fossils?
My grandfather frowns. “They’re barely forty.”
“Still fossils,” I huff.
My grandfather sits up. He can barely hide his annoyance as he says, “You’re just as stubborn as her.” I know the her in question.
He has been very vocal about his disdain over his daughter marrying the farmhand. As it turns out, my mother had fallen in love with my father, who accidentally got her pregnant at sixteen. My grandfather had been furious but the two tied the knot anyway.
He never really accepted their union but at least he never kicked them out.
Last year, my parents got into a tractor accident. My father was driving. Mom died on the spot. My father was in a coma and died two days after.
My grandfather was pissed. According to him, if my mother had chosen right, she would still be alive.
I try not to take his sentiment as a dig at me. If my mother had chosen “right,” I wouldn’t exist.
I swallow the lump in my throat. It hurts to feel unwanted. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.
“I can’t marry them,” I say instead.
My grandfather ignores me. “They’ve been looking for an Omega to join their pack. Someone who can help with their daughter and assist with their new ranch operation in Texas.”
My stomach twists. I’ve seen them around the ranch the last few months—two imposing Alphas who watch me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. I thought they were just business associates of my grandfather, not potential... husbands.
“Texas?” I repeat, my voice coming out higher than I’d like. “You want to send me to Texas to be some kid’s nanny and stepmom?”
“It’s a good match, Saramaria. They’ll provide for you, protect you—”
“Protect me?” I shoot to my feet. “Is this the 1800s? Are you selling me off to the highest bidder?”
“Sit down and be respectful,” my grandfather snaps, his face flushing.
“I’m eighteen! I’m not some broodmare to be traded for land connections!”
“I’m getting old,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “I’m going to be selling this place anyway. Where would that leave you? Alone, with no means of support?”
“I could run this ranch!” I insist, my hands clenched into fists. “You know I could!”
He lets out a harsh laugh. “With what experience? You’re just an Omega, Saramaria. What happens if, like your mother, you end up married to the wrong person? You’d be eaten alive. You’d run this place to the ground. I can’t let that happen.”
“I could learn! I—”
“Enough!” He slams his hand on the desk, making me jump. “I’ve made my decision. The Hendersons are good men. They’ll treat you well.”
“Treat me well? They want me to move to another state and raise their child while they start a new ranch! That’s not treating me well, that’s using me! Do you even know how their last wife died?”
The fight escalates, our voices rising until we’re shouting across the desk. Words like “duty,” “legacy,” and “responsibility” fly from his mouth, while I throw back “freedom,” “choice,” and “respect.”
Finally, he pushes back his chair and stands. “I’m leaving to meet them now. When I return, we’ll discuss this further.” He pauses at the door, turning back to look me up and down. “Perhaps you could clean up a bit. Brush your hair. Make yourself presentable.”
The dismissal stings more than any of his previous words. I stand frozen in the middle of the room long after he’s gone, the photograph of my parents seeming to mock me from the desk.
I flee to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
Tears stream down my face as I collapse onto my bed.
If only my parents hadn’t died, this wouldn’t be happening.
They were the only ones who truly understood me, who knew I’d always dreamed of escaping to the city, of becoming a chef or something—anything but a rancher.
But now, running the ranch sounds infinitely better than being married off to be a thirteen-year-old’s nanny and stepmom. I’m only eighteen. My life shouldn’t be over before it’s even begun.
The tears come harder now, hot and angry. I cry for my parents, for the future I wanted, for the future my grandfather is trying to force on me. I cry until my head aches and my eyes are swollen.
Then something shifts inside me. A spark of the wild girl I used to be, the one who rode bareback through the fields and wasn’t afraid of anything.
I wipe my eyes, determination replacing despair. I won’t let him do this to me. I won’t be sold off like property.
I grab my old duffel bag from the closet, stuffing it with clothes, my iPod, and the small amount of cash I’ve saved from odd jobs around town.
I pause at my dresser, picking up the silver locket my mother gave me for my sixteenth birthday—her and Dad on one side, me on the other.
I fasten it around my neck, the cool metal a comforting weight against my skin.
The keys to my mother’s truck hang by the back door. I grab them, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.
As I drive away from the only home I’ve ever known, I glance in the rearview mirror and see Boone standing by the barn, watching me leave.
Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and I wonder what punishment he’ll receive for letting me run off.
I don’t even know where the hell I’m going, just that I need to be away from here.
My wild heart fractures as I turn onto the highway, leaving Muddy Creek behind. I press down on the accelerator, the truck eating up the miles as I drive toward an unknown future, free but utterly alone.