Chapter 1
Wren
With a final stroke of my paintbrush, I take a step back to admire my handiwork.
The canvas in front of me boasts three lumpy looking figures.
The heads are too large, the bodies awkwardly shaped, the facial features skewed.
Really, it’s impossible to tell if I had been attempting to paint people or some sort of alien.
It’s perfect.
A knock on my door has me wiping my face with the back of my hand—but I’m sure I just smeared blue paint on my forehead.
“Wren Sofia Messina, look at the state of you!” Mother crosses her arms disapprovingly, eyeing my clothing with distaste. It was all I could do to get her to let me buy a pair of denim overalls—she only agreed because I swore I would only wear them while painting.
Looking at Mother is like looking at a mirror twenty-five years into the future.
Her raven black hair matches mine—her gray strands covered by the best hairstylist in Hope Springs, California.
Her eyes, the same amber as mine, dart to my canvas, and I make sure to put on my most proud smile.
“Look, Mother!” I nod at the painting. “It’s me, you, and Father! ”
My mother’s lips tilt up in self-satisfied amusement. My parents like that I paint because they think it keeps me compliant. They see a young woman with absolutely no talent kept quiet by the concession of letting her have a hobby.
“Very nice, darling.” Her voice is condescending as fuck. “You need to get dressed. Pack Caruso is coming for dinner tonight. We’re to discuss the re-launch of Nest Luxe.”
I stiffen. They’re coming? Tonight?
“What about Pack Robinson?”
“They’ve terminated our arrangement.” The mild amusement from earlier vanishes as her expression goes stone cold. “You’ve seemed to have managed to run off yet another pack. Really, Wren, I don’t see how you think you can be the face of a luxury nesting store and still act the way you do.”
The face of a “luxury nesting store”. Ha.
I used to think I hated being ignored, but I think I hate my parents trying to cash in on my new designation more.
Apparently nesting items would be much easier to smuggle drugs inside of than ballgowns and suits.
They’ve been in talks to buy the business from the current owners, and want to make me their poster girl.
My worst fucking nightmare. Standing by myself in an awkward pose in front of a backdrop, trying not to look constipated as fuck as they dressed me in scratchy as hell fabrics and flashed cameras at me…just the memory makes me want to die.
And now I find out the pack I was stringing along bowed out early? I really thought I could squeeze a few more weeks out of Pack Robinson.
Or as I like to call them in my head, Pack Number Six. They really were the best ones yet. Mild mannered, not entirely misogynistic, and easy enough to ignore on our mandated outings.
Plus, they aren’t offensive enough to make masking my social anxiety impossible.
It was almost easy, actually. I’d been agreeable, but not too agreeable. A little stand-offish, but not enough to make them uninterested in pursuing me.
It’s all part of the plan.
The plan to get out from under my parents’ thumbs.
The plan that makes sure no pack ever wants to take me as their omega.
The plan that ends with Theodore Leopold Covington the Third proclaiming his undying love for me as we make a break for Starbrook City.
Well, the part about Teddy professing his love might just be wishful thinking, but Starbrook City really is the destination.
This scheme of ours may not have been perfect or foolproof, but it’s been the only hope I’ve had to hold on to since Teddy and I came up with it in the back of the coat check room.
But now, it’s an entire year later, and I’m so damn close to finally having enough to start over in Starbrook City.
I still remember the time my grandparents—back when they were both alive—took me to Starbrook City for my thirteenth birthday. We went to the theatre, a science museum, and, the one that’s stuck with me the most, an art gallery.
The colors, the strokes, the way that an artist could convey such complex emotions by simply putting color onto a canvas blew my thirteen-year-old mind.
I decided right then and there that I wanted to be an artist. When Grandfather bought me some supplies to get started with, and I made my first piece, he told me something very important.
I must never let my parents—especially Father—see what I can do. They would never let me continue if they knew I was good at it. It’s a threat to their control, if I have something that I can do to provide for myself.
So here I am, grinning like a loon in front of my mother acting disproportionately proud of my two-minute scribble.
“I’m sorry, Mother.” I turn my eyes down, clasping my hands in front of me. “I thought…I really thought they would be the ones.”
“It’s no matter.” Her dismissive tone has me looking back up at her. Maybe she’s not as angry as she usually is because she already has Pack Caruso lined up. “Go get cleaned up. I’ve had Freida put two acceptable outfits in your closet.”
My lips tighten into a line as I nod once. “Yes, Mother.”
She disappears out of my room without a second glance at me, shutting the door behind her. My shoulders slump, and I look at the painting I just finished before reaching behind it and carefully pulling at the tape holding the top layer of canvas in place.
Bright splashes of color peek from behind my decoy painting, swirling and dancing around a portrait of a woman. Her expression is fixed mid-scream as her hands claw at her hair. It’s beautiful but haunting.
I’m just about to cover it back up when there’s a quick tap on the glass double doors that lead to my balcony. My heart rate picks up, and I resist the urge to check my hair in the mirror. Teddy’s seen me at my worst, he won’t care if my braid is messy.
After we met a year ago, Teddy became my best friend. My confidant. My…well, my everything. He holds me when I cry, listens when I’m mad, and always, always supports me.
How the hell was I supposed to not fall in love with him?
But…he’s never crossed that line. I’ve never even kissed anyone, so I don’t even know where I would start if I tried to cross the line from friendship into something more.
Then there’s the fact I have no idea if he even feels remotely the same way, or if he’s just really sympathetic towards pathetic omegas locked up in their father’s mansions. There’s no way I’m going to put it all on the line and potentially fuck up the only friendship I’ve ever had.
Quickly, I lock my bedroom and turn to the balcony doors. Then, just like it does every single time I see the very British beta who found me mid-panic attack in a dark alley, my heart rate doubles.
Weirdly, it has nothing to do with my social anxiety and everything to do with my stupid, unrequited crush on him.
I still have no idea how he manages to sneak on and off my parents property with the amount of guards and security cameras we have. But he’s never been caught. Whenever I’ve asked, he’s only winked and told me that he “knows a guy”.
Teddy gives me a lazy grin and a little wave from outside.
If I hadn’t met Teddy when he was in uniform, I might have been too afraid to talk to him in his usual outfit choice.
Black combat boots, skinny jeans, a white tank top under a denim vest covered in patches, and a pair of drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket.
Between his clothing, the tattoos that cover literally every inch of skin that I can see besides his face, and his nose piercing, I definitely would have been too intimidated to say even a single word.
Now, though, it’s like I have my very own punk-rock Romeo to perform sonnets in my name.
Or, you know, deliver my profits from the underground sales of my paintings.
Though, as I reach over and unlock the door to my balcony, I feel a little uneasy. He doesn’t normally come to me until the day after the sale goes through. Did something happen?
Turning the handle and opening the door, I try my best to seem calm. “Hey,” my voice does this stupid breathy thing when there’s not a pane of glass between us, “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“Not ‘appy to see me, Dove?” He grins, stepping forward and making a beeline for my painting—the one that’s half covered by the decoy canvas.
“I’m never not happy to see you,” I say honestly as he studies the face of the woman I created. “I’m just…confused? You don’t normally come by until the day after an auction.”
It’s not safe to solicit private buyers, so Teddy takes them to auctions for me. My paintings sell under the pseudonym Sylvia Bloom—nobody knows they’re actually buying from a hidden mafia princess plotting her escape.
He grins, turning back to face me. “There’s nuthin’ normal ‘bout this sale though. I came straight from the auction ’ouse.”
“What does that mean?” My heart rate picks up. Normally my paintings go for a few hundred at most. One time, I had one sell for close to a thousand.
“It means,” he drawls, reaching into the inside of his vest, “you’re free, Wren.” He pulls a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills out, and my mouth drops open.
“Teddy…” I swallow, my gaze jumping from the cash in his hand to his face. “What did you do?”
“I di’nt do anythin’, Dove. This was all you.” He pushes the money at me, and my fingers shake as I count through it.
Twenty-five.
That’s twenty-five hundred dollars.
“And that’s only ‘alf,” Teddy says proudly. “They want your next piece too, and they’ll pay another twen’y-five for it.”
“Oh my gods,” I gasp, looking up at him. “What—how—”
He pushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and my fucking heart leaps into my throat. “I dun told’ya, Dove. You’re a damn talented ar’ist, and people are star’ing to see it.”
A breathless laugh leaves me as tears sting my eyes.
This…I’ll have more than enough money to start over in Starbrook City.
A new life, a new me. I’ll finally be free of my parents, and their suffocating hold over me.
Teddy told me that his roommate, Ethan, can set me up with a new ID.
I’ve never met the man—an alpha, apparently—but if Teddy trusts him, then so do I.
It’s really happening.
I’ll be free.
“Teddy,” I look up at him, and my voice catches in my throat. His endless blue eyes stare down at me, but there’s something there I’d only thought I’d caught glimpses of before.
Yearning.
It’s then that I realize the hand that had pushed back my hair is resting against my cheek.
My heart stops. A year of casual touches, and friendly laughter. A year of being hopelessly infatuated with the man I can never have.
“I know I’m not an alpha,” his voice is rough, the usual lightheartedness from his voice gone as he leans in closer.
Am I dreaming right now? What the actual fuck is happening?
“But you’re goin’ to be leavin’, and I know I’ve prob’ly wai’ed too long to say some’fin, but…
” He lets out a frustrated huff like he can’t find the correct words.
His lips are a hairsbreadth from mine, and holy shit, my heart is going to burst out of my chest. “From that firs’ time I saw you, lookin’ like every dream I’ve ever ‘ad come to life—this beau’iful, fierce girl, I…
” he exhales. “Fuckin’ ‘ell. Tell me to stop b’fore I fuck it up.
Tell me to fuck off, and that you’ll never be int’rested in me as any’fin more than a friend, ’cause if you don’, I’m goin’ to kiss you.
An’ if I kiss you, nuffin’ is goin’ to ever be the same b’tween us. So tell me to stop, Dove.”
I don’t even think. “No.”
There’s no telling who moves first. Who closes that last bit of empty space between us.
But I don’t really care.
I can’t care. Not when Teddy is kissing me like I’m the only thing he’s wanted his entire life—his touch so gentle yet so sure at the same time.
Not when his hands cup my face so tenderly, I feel more treasured than I have in all of my twenty-two years.
Not when the one thing I’ve wanted the most in my entire life is finally happening.
My arms wrap around his neck as tea with milk and sugar fills my senses. His hands move from my face, tightening around my waist as he lifts me against him.
I gasp into his mouth at the unexpected motion, and when he pulls back, staring into my eyes, I think I might really be in love with him. Completely, stupidly, ridiculously in love with him.
“Dove,” the rough whisper feathers across my cheeks, “I’m pre’ty fuckin’ sure I lo—”
A sharp knock on my bedroom door has me scrambling from Teddy’s hold. My heart is beating so loud I’m surprised whoever’s on the other side of the door can’t hear it. “Wren! Why is the door locked?” Mother’s sharp tone cuts through my euphoria like a knife.
“I’m getting dressed!” I call out, my tone light. “I’ll be right out.”
“If you’re not out here in ten minutes, I’m having your father break down the door!” she snaps before her heels click down the hall.
I look at Teddy, my eyes wide. “I have to get ready.” His expression looks panicked for a moment, and I can only think of one thing to erase whatever doubt just entered his mind.
Getting on my tiptoes, I grab the collar of his denim vest and pull him down to meet my lips.
The kiss is brief, but it gets the message across.
Not bad for my second kiss.
“Tonight,” I whisper, pulling back slightly. He pushes his forehead against mine. “Come back tonight, and we’ll be in Starbrook before morning. They’re expecting me at a dinner downstairs, but after that, they won’t care about seeing me.”
“Tonight.” He presses one last lingering kiss to my lips before backing away, grabbing my painting from the easel, and zipping it into the carrying bag he keeps on his back just for occasions like this. “I’ll sell this and get the other twen’y-five. Then I’ll come back for you, Dove.”
“Promise?” I blink away my tears. I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want to go downstairs to have dinner with parents that hate me and a pack that I don’t want. But…I know it needs to happen. If we rush out now, my parents will notice too quickly and drag me back.
“Promise.” He grins, winking at me before disappearing off the balcony with my painting in hand.