Chapter 8
EIGHT
KAOS
He was there tonight because of me.
It always came down to that, in the end.
Shame constantly gnawed at my edges, making my brain feel like it was always on edge. It was better to just retreat into my fog.
But today, I had to be present. I had to sit here with my heart pounding in my chest as Ocean walked into the Blood Well.
I was a record, jammed, stuck looping the same useless notes for years now.
Rogue.
Demon.
Monster.
Nothing but a burden.
And to escape it, I had to fold in on myself, over and over until I was buried and lost and couldn’t hear the guilt anymore.
But I’d bear it for tonight. For them. Or I’d try.
Our phones dinged as Ocean sent us a message.
“What?” I said, blinking down at the text Ocean had sent. “He’s…joking, right?"
I looked at Finch, in case this was some elaborate prank that they were playing.
He was staring at the screen, lips pursed and his eyes calculating. “We both felt him,” Finch said, not looking at me. “Something happened. It’s the most logical explanation.”
“That we’re matched with…her?” Even the words tasted wrong in my mouth, and I had the urge to go and gargle some mouthwash.
Finch gave me a flat look. “It doesn’t change anything. Ocean’s wearing scent blockers. She doesn’t know. We proceed with our plan.”
“Ocean,” I breathed, panic rising in my chest. We could both feel him right now.
He was smitten.
With the enemy.
No.
Nononono.
It was too much; I felt the fog creeping in and welcomed it.
There was nothing for a while, which was a relief. By the time the fog receded, I was sitting on the couch, staring at a blank TV. Alone.
It hurt that Finch was never with me when I came out of an episode. It was bad enough feeling untethered, but when Ocean was around, I could feel safe knowing he’d been there with me. Finch had work to do, though. I shouldn’t bother him.
The memories trickled back in; the whole reason I’d been overwhelmed in the first place.
Scent matched to the Crimson Duchess.
Hadn’t the Fairchild family taken enough from me?
Hadn’t I taken enough from my brothers?
We wouldn’t get another scent match.
It was a problem because I knew our pack as a whole was a bit rough around the edges.
And I was practically one big slab of sandpaper.
But a scent match was supposed to be someone who was made for us.
Something beautiful in our miserable lives. Someone who’d laugh and sing, who’d bring out the best in us.
An omega who could take this pack and make it into something beautiful, something to be proud of. Someone who could bring us balance.
Finch and Ocean deserved that.
But instead of an omega to dote on, we’d matched her.
Once you scented your mate, it was locked in. That was it; you wouldn’t get another unless someone died. So for better and worse, she was ours.
Laurel Fairchild was the exact opposite of everything I’d dreamed of.
I’d never even seen her smile in all my time in the Blood Well. They’d show her on the big screens from time to time, or she would parade past us in the cages with the same air of cool detachment.
She was no doubt rich and spoiled, spending her father’s money on expensive dresses and jewelry.
She was cold.
Even when her brother was in the Sink, fighting for his life, she hadn’t flinched.
A duchess was someone who’d proved she didn’t care about mates.
If she even found out we were her scent matches, she’d immediately think of how she could use us, and we’d be chewed up and spat out the other side, more broken than before.
If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that the Crimson Duchess wasn’t capable of love.
Whatever sadistic being was weaving our fate seemed to get a real kick out of our suffering.