Chapter 37 #2
None of this has gone according to plan, and my anxiety ratchets up with every passing moment.
My heart rate increases, my palms feel clammy, and tears prickle the backs of my eyes.
I can’t believe I forgot my phone, but I did, and that means I can’t call for backup.
Which leaves me with only two real choices.
Do I go along with this nightmarish charade, or do I make a run for it?
No, I’m a capable, mated adult. I’m going to do what I came here to do.
Burrowing into Liam’s hoodie, I inhale his blueberry scent to calm myself down. I just need to pack my bags and make it through this evening, then I can ask Henry and his pack to help me carry my suitcases to my car and leave this house forever. No big deal. I can do this.
Ignoring the pale pink dress on my bed—why does my mother insist on dressing me in pastels?
—I sort through my closet and carefully fold my chosen items and pack them tightly into my largest suitcase.
My hands tremble as I go through my personal items, and my eyes burn with unshed tears.
I refuse to cry. My mother doesn’t deserve my tears.
She’s hurt me for the last time, and even though I wish things were different—I wish she cared enough about me to be happy I’ve found my soulmates—wishing won’t change this situation.
So I let myself feel the sharp pain that comes with realizing things with my mother will never change, let it steal the breath from my lungs for only as long as it takes me to pack up my stuff, then I will stand up, walk out of here, and never look back.
When all is said and done, I’ve managed to fit everything that’s important to me into two large suitcases.
I’m not sure if that’s something to feel proud of or very, very sad about.
At least it will make moving in with my mates that much easier.
It’s almost two o’clock by the time I’m finished packing, and reluctantly, I get into the shower.
I reassure myself that this is the very last time I will be subjected to my mother’s whims, so I might as well play along.
I don’t put as much effort into my hair and makeup as I know she expects me to, but I don’t care about the Whittier pack.
The only beta and alphas I need to impress are waiting at home for me, and they don’t care if I look perfectly put together. They like me as I am.
A sharp knock at my door pulls me out of my head. The knob wiggles, but thankfully, I locked it.
“Olivia, our guests will be here in five minutes. Your brother and his pack are already here. I expect you downstairs immediately.”
Thank God Henry is here. I wish I could have called my mates and asked them to come rescue me, but at least I’ll have Henry for moral support. The bond is a warm, constant sensation. I’m not sure they can feel my distress, but for their sakes, I hope they can’t.
When my mother raps her knuckles on the door again, I sigh. “I’ll be down soon. I just need to get dressed.”
She mutters something about ungrateful daughters and always an embarrassment. Each word is another nail in the coffin of our relationship. They cut through me, flaying me down to the bone, but I do my best to ignore her.
The dress she’s laid out for me is slinky, low-cut, and tight.
She’s really going all out, trying to sell me off to some rich pack, isn’t she?
My nose wrinkles when I hold it up. Nothing about this dress is me, and for a moment, I debate putting Liam’s hoodie back on and risking my mother’s wrath.
I’d rather not suffer the acute embarrassment that would follow a petty rebellion like that.
“Last time,” I tell myself. “This is the last time you ever have to do something like this. Henry is here. His pack is here. Verity is here. Put on the dress and get this over with. You’ll go downstairs, shake hands with the rich boys who are probably just as thrilled about this situation as you are, tell them you’re not interested, and call it a night. No big deal.”
Trembling with sadness and anger, I somehow manage to wiggle into the tight pink dress and tug up the zipper that’s hidden in the side seam. I turn to the mirror to give myself a quick once-over and stop dead in my tracks. My vision tunnels, and ringing fills my ears.
The dress fits me like a glove, and even I can admit that, if it was a different color, I may not hate it.
But the problem lies with the neckline. Because the dress has thin straps and dips low in the front to show off my cleavage .
. . and my necklace of mate marks. Mate marks that, in any other situation, would bring me an intense amount of joy and satisfaction.
“Well, this just became much more complicated.” I allow myself a minute to admire my fresh marks, letting my fingertips trace the healing wounds that proclaim to the world that I’m mated. Claimed. Completely unavailable.
My mother is going to lose her mind.
The sound of male voices draws me out of my stupor.
Not my mates. Men my mother would love to force on me.
The idea of it makes bile flood my mouth.
I don’t want to play these games. Even going along with this farce somehow feels like I’m betraying the men I love, but I don’t know what else to do.
I need Henry’s help. I need a way out. And I won’t be able to stall much longer.
Heart pounding, I fling open my closet door, rifling through the racks until I find a wrap sweater with a neckline that can either be folded over the shoulder or flipped up to wrap around your neck.
It’s a dark gray, and it doesn’t really go with the dress, but it will have to do.
Especially when I hear a sharp series of knocks and a hissed “Olivia” through my door.
I take a few deep breaths and wait for my mother to go back downstairs before I survey my room one final time and walk out to face the firing squad.
I wish my mates were here.
My heart rate increases with every step, breath coming fast as I descend, inching closer and closer to those voices that don’t belong to my pack. Sweat forms along my hairline, and every muscle in my body trembles with the urge to run. To flee and never come back.
Confronting my mother is worse than enduring this dinner, so as much as I’ll hate every second, the logical course of action is to endure it.
I can get through this dinner. It will be fine.
“I apologize for my daughter,” I hear my mother say in a simpering tone. “But you know how omegas are. We love to make an entrance, especially where alphas are concerned.”
“Mother, can I speak to you for a minute?” Henry’s voice is hard. He doesn’t know the guys and I have mated, but he does know I’m happy with them. That I have no intention of entertaining these strange alphas. I’m sure he wants to talk my mother out of this.
“Not now, Henry.”
“It’s important. I don’t think this is a good idea. You don’t understand what—”
“That’s enough, Henry,” she snaps. “Please go find your sister and hurry her along.”
My brother grumbles something unintelligible before storming out of the dining room. He stops short when he sees me standing there, eyes wide, fingers holding tight to the wrap sweater concealing my mate marks.
“Liv. Shit. Did you know she was planning this?” He inches closer, looking around to make sure no one will overhear us when he whispers, “You’re still with Sawyer’s pack, right?”
Despite the stress of the situation—or maybe because of it—I can’t hold back a slightly unhinged stress giggle that has Henry eyeing me speculatively. And when tears pool in my eyes, his attention sharpens. I want to tell him everything.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am still with Pack Flynn, and no, I didn’t know about this dinner. I only came home to pack my things. I’m moving in with the guys.” Reaching out, I grab Henry’s hand and squeeze. “Henry, I have to tell you. The other day, we—”
“There you are,” my mother says loudly. It startles me so badly, my heart skips a beat before racing, and I let out a squeak and jump, nearly losing my footing and falling. Luckily, Henry catches me.
Four men in suits stand at my mother’s back, studying me.
They’re not unattractive, but they’re not my mates, and there’s a calculating look in each of their gazes I don’t appreciate.
They’re sizing me up, the same way my mother always has, to see if I’m good enough.
If I fit their image. If I’m worth their time.
Well, it doesn’t matter what they think. They’re not worth mine.
“Gentlemen, please let me introduce my daughter, Olivia.” Mom offers the alphas a bright smile, though it doesn’t completely hide the twitch of annoyance in the corners of her eyes. “Olivia, meet Pack Whittier. This is Elliot, Brandon, Jeremiah, and Chase.”
The alphas all nod, offering subdued hellos. My mother clears her throat when I don’t do or say anything to greet them in return. Henry, the traitor, has the nerve to chuckle when I awkwardly lift a hand and wave.
I need to get out of here.
“Right. Well, why don’t you all follow me into the dining room? We have drinks and hors d'oeuvres.” Mother waves a hand, inviting the Whittier pack to the dining room. They oblige her without so much as another glance in my direction.
“Henry,” I whisper, “I forgot my phone at Sawyer’s. Can you please call—”
“What are you wearing, Olivia? When I set out that dress for you, I didn’t intend for you to cover it up with that horrid wrap.
” My mother’s voice is sharp. Almost as biting as her nails when they grab hold of the collar of my sweater and tug it off my shoulder before I have a chance to process her movements.
“I swear, Olivia, sometimes I think you don’t even want to find a pack. I’m putting in all this work, and you—”
Her words cut off with a gasp when she sees what my ugly sweater was hiding.
Every cell in my body tightens, preparing to run, to hide.
There is danger in her gaze, and despite this being exactly what she’s always told me she wanted—me claimed by a pack and fulfilling my duties as an omega—I didn’t do it her way.
This is the moment that changes everything, I know it is, and the pounding of my pulse is so loud in my ears, I’m not sure I’ll even be able to hear what she says.
I look to my brother for reassurance, my hands shaking so badly, I have to clasp them together over my stomach to keep them still.
Despite the violence in her eyes, I don’t believe my mother will try to physically hurt me, and even if she tried, there are too many people here to stop her.
My chest feels too tight. I’m struggling to breathe.
Logically, I know Henry won’t let anything happen to me, and neither will his pack.
Still, this won’t be pretty.
Henry sucks in a breath, I steel my spine, and my mother lets out a shriek that would make any banshee proud.
“What is that?”