27. Sterling #2
Cass lets out a low, lethal growl. I push forward before I lose my nerve.
“They took me to meet them once,” I say quietly. “After that first meeting, I was still holding on to hope. I thought maybe my earlier feelings were just nerves. That the pack would be…perfect.”
Quinn’s eyebrows snap up in shock.
I nod, my fingers twisting in my lap. “They dressed me up, told me to be sweet, obedient. Said these Alphas were good men. Strong men. That I should be grateful.”
I force a tight, humorless laugh.
“But the second I stepped into that house without my parents, I knew.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering the way they looked at me.
Like I was nothing, a thing to breed, to claim, to own.
“They were exactly what you’d expect,” I continue, voice hollow.
“They weren’t just dominant—they were cruel.
Their Omega barely spoke. She wasn’t allowed to.
And instead of looking at me with sympathy or being the nurturing caregiver she had promised my parents she’d be, she hated that I was there.
Hated that I was young in all the ways she wasn’t. God, I was just a kid.”
Cass looks like he wants to murder someone. “What did you do?”
“I did the only thing I thought I could—I found a website where you could order suppressants. I figured if I never went into heat, I’d be worthless to them.”
I swallow hard.
“Then I begged my parents to let me finish high school. Pleaded with them. Told them I’d go along with whatever plan they had. I just wanted this one thing.”
I let out a breath, bitter and shaky. “And I think…I think they decided I’d be more compliant if they gave me that. So they agreed.”
My voice lowers.
“It gave me two years to figure out how to escape.”
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Cass comes up beside me and touches me.
His touch is gentle, warm, grounding. His large, calloused hands covering my shoulders.
Cass slides into the stool next to me, voice low but intense. “You didn’t deserve that. Not even close. And you sure as hell weren’t something to leverage for personal gain.”
“How did you get out?” Quinn asks.
I blink hard, my throat tightening. “I ran. Day after graduation. Took what I could carry and got out. I had secretly enrolled myself at Kansas State.”
“Things were better for a while, I made friends, went to class and cut all ties with my parents. I even met someone…Adam.”
“The ex,” Quinn guesses.
I nod. “He was different. Or…I thought he was. I met him when I was seventeen, at one of my parents' parties. Then, during my sophomore year at KU, he showed up on campus—new transfer student—with eyes only for me. He was in all of my classes and seemed hellbent on charming me.”
I let out a breath, forcing the next part out. This is the part I’m most embarrassed about. More than the arranged mating, more than running away.
“Looking back…that probably should’ve been the first red flag.”
Both their hands move in slow, soothing circles—Quinn’s on my thigh, Cass’s on my back—anchoring me, steadying me.
“He was older and acted like he understood me. I told him about my parents and what happened. He acted like he wanted to help me. He told me I wasn’t just an Omega, that I was smart, funny, more than my designation. That I didn’t have to be scared, because he’d protect me.”
Cass exhales sharply, his hands flexing.
Quinn curses under his breath. “And?”
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “He was one of them. Part of the Larsen Pack. He’d been away when I met them the first time. It had been planned all along. He was grooming me, sent by the pack and my parents.”
The words taste sour in my mouth.
I let the truth settle, knowing there’s no way to soften it.
“My parents found out I was enrolled in Kansas State and sent him to keep me in line. To make sure I didn’t try to run. To try and encourage my first heat to come. And that Adam and Pack Larsen would be right there when it happened.”
Quinn inhales sharply, his whole body tensing.
Cass just says, voice dangerously low, “What happened?”
I hesitate, then answer.
“I was just a few months away from graduation…I couldn’t leave school.”
“I pretended like I had no idea what was happening. Did everything I could to act like nothing was wrong. Then the moment I had my license in hand, I drove away. Disappeared.”
I exhale, the weight of it still sitting heavy on my chest.
“I bounced around, trying to find work in other towns. Every school district needs subs, right? But I never could shake the feeling that they were always just a few steps behind me. Eventually I found this job in Twilight Harbor and applied.”
I huff a quiet laugh, no humor in it.
“Literally as physically far away as I could get.”
“And this pack?” he asks. “They ever find you again?”
I shake my head. “No. I stayed far away, kept my head down. I didn't do social media or anything that would let them know where I might be. I put myself on heavy suppressants—the kind that completely shut down my cycles—so I wouldn’t go into heat. So no pack or Alpha would want me.”
“I think in the end I was just too much trouble. I heard that Pack Larsen found another Omega.” I shrug, playing at nonchalance. “And my parents haven’t tried to talk to me since.”
Quinn exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Jesus, sweetheart.”
“I’m okay,” I say quickly. “I just…I want you to understand why I don’t want to force anyone into something they don’t want. If JP—if any of you don’t want this, don’t want me, that’s okay. I’d never?—”
Cass moves first.
Suddenly I’m engulfed in his arms. He pulls me against his chest, his arms tight around me. His wild scent settles my nerves, making me feel better.
“You’re never going back to them.” His voice is like gravel, sharp and gritted with fury. “I don’t give a fuck if we decide that this is something or not. There’s no way any of us would ever let them hurt you.”
Something inside me breaks.
I sink into him, my body trembling, and Quinn is there too, his warm hands traveling up my thigh to the side of my face.
“You’re safe, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “And all that shit. Not a single part of it was your fault or means there is a damn thing wrong with you.”
I let out a shaky breath, nodding. It’s been so long since I allowed myself to truly feel it all—what my parents did, what Adam did, how he used me, lied to me.
I buried it so deep, convinced myself I had moved on, that I was fine. But now that it’s out, now that the words are hanging in the air between us, I don’t know if I can pack them away again. I don’t know if I want to.
The weight of my past is crushing, pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. I should be used to it by now, used to pushing these things down, used to swallowing my fear, my hurt, my shame.
A single sob breaks free from my chest.
And like the dam inside me finally cracks—every tear I’ve been holding back comes pouring out.
“Sorry to trauma dump,” I whisper through the flood, voice shaking. “I just…I don’t want anyone to ever feel like I did. Trapped. Abused. Manipulated by biology.”
Cass doesn’t say a word. He’s still holding me, wrapped around me like a human shield—solid, grounding, immovable. His arms are locked tight, his grip so firm it feels like he’s trying to physically hold me together. I glance up at Quinn.
Quinn is watching me, his dark eyes burning, his mouth pressed into a thin line, like he’s warring with himself. A million emotions swim in his ice blue eyes.
“Sweetheart,” he says gently, his voice low and soothing. “You’re shaking.”
I let out a breathless, broken laugh. “I know.”
The look he gives me is fractured.
“Can I…mark you?” Quinn asks, his voice soft and questioning. “I just think…my Alpha needs it. And it might—” He hesitates, searching my face. “It might be calming for you, too.”
“Scent-marking. Adam used to mark me,” I murmur.
Adam would mark me and it was never to comfort me. But I know in my heart that with Quinn it will be different.
“Okay,” I whisper. I know I let JP mark me—and Cass too—but both those times, I was lost to the pull of desire.
This is different. Being asked when we’re not in the moment feels…
heavier. Adam used to mark me, but it was always about ownership.
Control. Branding. The whole dynamic felt like being possessed, not cherished.
I pull away from Cass and step down from the stool, turning to face Quinn. Slowly, I tilt my chin up and bare my neck—the same way Adam always wanted me to. The way I thought was expected.
I close my eyes, standing straight and rigid, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. My heart hammers in my chest as old feelings claw their way up from where I buried them.
Adam’s scent-marking was never about affection. Never about connection or comfort.
But this is different.
They’re different.
I remind myself of that, but my body doesn’t get the message. I’m tense and nervous. I stand there, waiting.
And waiting.
Nothing happens.
My brows pull together in confusion. I crack one eye open—and find Quinn and Cass both staring at me. Not moving. Not stepping forward. Just…watching me with a mix of shock and something else I can’t place.
“What are you doing?” Quinn finally asks, his voice low, but there’s an edge to it.
“I’m…” I hesitate. “Letting you scent-mark me. Isn’t this how you do it?”
Cass’s expression shifts from confusion to anger, but not at me. At what he’s seeing. At what it means.
“You look like you’re being marched in front of a judge and jury,” Quinn says gently. “Scent-marking doesn’t have to be sexual or intense—but it should feel good, Sterling. Safe.”
Heat flushes across my face, shame crawling up my spine like a second skin.
“I’m sorry.” I start to step back. “I don’t know how to do this. I thought—” My throat tightens. “I thought I was ready.”
That awful, familiar feeling bubbles up—I’m not enough. I’m broken. Too complicated. Too much work.
Cass stands up behind me so fast I barely register the movement, his hands come up to my shoulders and he holds me against his chest.
He leans in, brushing the tip of his nose along the curve of my jaw, just beneath my ear. A soft breath escapes him, and his scent—pine, sea air, something steadying and warm—spills over my skin like sunlight.
“Don’t do that,” he says softly. “Don’t go there.”
Quinn reaches up, grasping my hands in his, pulling me to stand between his spread legs, and leans in.
Slowly. Deliberately.
He presses his nose to the curve of my neck, just beneath my jaw, and inhales.
The sound he makes—low, reverent—isn’t anything like what I remember from before. It’s not claiming. It’s not power. It’s home.
His scent wraps around me like silk—cool citrus and wild mint—fresh and clean and sharp in the best way, curling into the air around me until it’s all I can breathe in.
I let myself break.