23. Syn
23
SYN
I wake to the gentle sound of rain against the window, feeling surprisingly rested despite everything. The cut on my side pulls with a dull ache as I sit up, reminding me of Declan’s artistic endeavour. I glance at the clock—6:13 a.m.
I frown. They left me alone last night. That doesn’t sit well with me, despite how grateful I am to have had the rest. Did I do something wrong? Are they going to kick me out without the rest of my payment?
The room is bathed in soft pre-dawn light, giving everything a dreamlike quality. I slip out of bed, wincing slightly as I stretch, and pad over to the window. The grounds below are shrouded in mist, raindrops sliding down the glass like tears.
I press my forehead against the cool window, trying to make sense of everything. Three alphas, each more confusing than the last.
My phone buzzes from the nightstand, making me jump. I hurry over, my heart racing when I see the No Caller ID on the screen.
My stomach drops as I pick it up and answer. “Jeremy.”
“That’s better instead of getting your client to pick it up for you.”
“What?” I murmur with a frown.
“Yesterday. I rang you, and some random guy answered.”
His words spike my blood with adrenaline. “When?” I demand.
He pauses. “Yesterday morning.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, placing my hand on my forehead. “Are you sure you dialled my number?”
“Do you take me for an idiot, Syn-Syn? Forget that. I don’t give a fuck. Listen up. I’ve had a change of heart, seeing as you were so reluctant to give me what I want. It’s now three million to make me go away.”
My heart nearly explodes with panic. “No, wait, I can get you the two million. I said I needed a week, but I will have it.”
“Tough. The price tag went up. Three million or no deal.”
“Shit, Jeremy,” I say desperately as tears prick my eyes. “Please, be reasonable. I’m already doing everything I can to get you two million like you said yesterday.”
“Not my problem,” he says, cold amusement in his voice. “The price is three million now. You’ve got five days.”
I sink down onto the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly unable to support me. “That’s impossible. You know it is.”
“Then I guess we go back to our weekly payments until you’ve paid me the three million, and then we can talk.”
“Jeremy!” I cry as his threat bounces around my head. “That will take years.”
“And? Don’t you want to see your daughter, Syn? I’d think with the way you go on about it, you’d work a bit harder to make it happen.”
He hangs up as I choke back the sob.
I clutch the phone to my chest, tears streaming down my face. My whole body trembles with the effort to stay quiet. Three million. How the hell am I going to get that? Tarquin won’t accept another renegotiation. He’s already paying too much, and he knows it. I have to be smarter, better.
Wiping my tears with trembling fingers, I try to focus on the other matter. Someone answered my phone call yesterday. One of them was in here and went through my things, invading my privacy. The violation sends a fresh wave of nausea through me.
Standing on shaky legs, I move to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face.
My daughter. My beautiful little girl. Jeremy has kept her from me for so long, dangling the possibility of seeing her like a carrot before a starving horse. Paying and paying and paying, with money and with my body, and it’s still never enough.
Dressing quickly in a simple black dress, I have to figure this out. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep paying for one mistake for the rest of my life. I will never forget the rage on Jeremy’s face when he caught me stealing his money for Amélie’s baby formula. Always his money. I was given the exact money to shop with every week on a tight budget. But she was growing and getting hungrier. He didn’t listen. I ran out… I needed more. He was asleep. I reached for his wallet…
I bring my hand up to my face where he struck me so hard, I passed out. When I woke up, he was gone, and so was my baby. All that was left was a note calling me an unfit mother and that I didn’t deserve to have her.
Tears stream down my cheeks as a fresh wave of pain crashes over me.
I wipe away my tears with shaking hands, forcing myself to breathe deeply. This isn’t the time to fall apart. I need another million pounds. The number seems impossible, but I’ve come too far to give up now.
There is one thing left to offer them.
Dropping to my knees, I pull my bag out of the bottom of the wardrobe. I can tell them I feel like my heat is coming a week early, which is not so farfetched, and seeing as this was a sudden arrangement, it could be believable if I sell it right. I could inject myself with the heat inducers and negotiate a million more to stay here and let them use me while I’m in my heat. It’s the only thing I’ve got. But it’s a lot. It’s illegal and, therefore, enticing, and what alpha doesn’t want a pliable, vulnerable omega to use again and again? Scrabbling through my bag, I can’t find the injections. I empty it onto the floor.
I stare at the scattered contents of my bag in disbelief. The heat inducers aren’t there. My heart pounds frantically as I search through every pocket, every hidden compartment. Nothing.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
Whoever was in here yesterday and answered the phone went through my things and stole the only leverage I had left. My last hope to save my daughter.
I sit back on my heels, fighting the urge to scream. What if they went to the police? What if they’re on their way right now to arrest me? I shove everything back into my bag and throw it back into the wardrobe.
Damage control.
It’s time to stop being so pig-headed and just give Tarquin what he wants. Will it be enough? Probably not, but it might distract him for long enough so I can keep thinking of a plan. With my palms damp and my heart thudding painfully in my chest, I remain barefoot as I leave my bedroom and with shaky legs, I make my way downstairs, hoping that the police aren’t waiting for me.