Chapter 43 A Whole New World
A Whole New World
Skyla
I’m still floating.
Absolutely blissed out.
The world feels hazy and golden, the edges of everything softer than they should be. Even though it’s been a few days since my heat, my body still aches in ways that feel good, deep and honest—like I’ve been rebuilt from the inside out.
My fingers trace the quickly healing marks on my neck.
Three bites—one for each alpha. They still sting faintly along my neck and shoulder, tender and new.
When I touch them, heat flares under my fingertips.
It still doesn’t feel real. I keep expecting to wake up alone in that giant house with my old pack, back aching from the endless chores. No warmth and constant fear.
But then my new marks throb in time with my pulse, reminding me I’m theirs.
Knox’s bond hums steady in my chest, familiar and grounding, while the faintest ghosts of Alex and Tadeo brush against the edge of my thoughts. It’s an incredibly light bond, unfinished, but there. It’s only a matter of time before I can really feel them, too.
It really does feel like Knox unlocked some invisible door in my mind when he forced our mating. Not that I approve, but I’m definitely no longer angry.
“Hey there, gorgeous.” Dakota plops onto the couch next to me. “You’ve got that post-heat glow.”
“Thank you,” I smile at my lap, then immediately notice the beta’s running shoes on his feet. “No need to invite me on a run,” I say, praying I don’t sound bitchy. “I’m still pretty sore.”
Dakota grins, brushing a curl of dark brown hair off his forehead. “Wasn’t gonna,” he says with a laugh. “Not so soon after your heat. I’m reckless, Sky, but I’m not evil. You need to rest those pretty thighs a little longer.”
I smile, curling my legs up under me. “Good,” I say, nudging his shoulder with mine. “Because I don’t think I could even walk to the kitchen right now, let alone make my way around the whole neighborhood.”
“Yeah, it’s not a great idea.” He glances at me with a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Knox would kill me if you passed out halfway down the street. I don’t need that kind of headache.” He winks.
“Thanks for your concern,” I say flatly, although my smile gives me away.
Dakota just laughs, bending forward to tighten his laces. “Anytime, gorgeous.”
I snuggle into my portable nest, trying to relax, but something flickers at the edge of my mind. It’s that faint, dark pulse again. It’s small, almost nothing, but enough to make my chest tighten. I can tell it’s not Knox. His bond is quiet and steady, humming like a heartbeat in the background.
My connection with Alex and Tadeo is far too weak for me to pinpoint them.
Maybe this is one of them?
The back door slides open, sunlight spilling across the living room floor. Alex steps inside, red hair a sweaty mess, shirt clinging to his chest. He’s smiling—relaxed, loose-limbed, with that lazy, confident grin that always looks a little too good on him.
“Hey, sunshine,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag before tossing it onto the counter. “What’s with the serious face?”
I blink, caught between the ghost of that dark pulse in my mind and the warmth of his grin. “Are you okay?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Alex pauses mid-step, brow furrowing in surprise. “Me?” His grin returns, brighter this time. “I’m great, actually. Why? Do I look not-okay?”
I study him—bright eyes, easy posture, the clean hum of citrus and thyme rolling off his skin. Everything about him screams fine. Still, the unease in my chest won’t go away.
“Yeah,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “Guess you seem fine.”
“Guess I am,” he laughs lightly, but his gaze lingers a second too long, like he’s trying to figure out what’s bothering me and failing completely.
Dakota shifts slightly, his usual easy smile not quite reaching his eyes. He’s watching me, like he can feel something’s off but doesn’t want to embarrass me by saying it.
And then something shifts.
It’s faint at first—just a hollow thud behind my eyes, matching the rhythm of my pulse. But it grows. Slow. Heavy. Like something dark pressing down from the inside out.
My chest begins to ache in that old familiar way, a weight that whispers hateful feelings without actually forming the words.
Useless.
Worthless.
Stupid.
Fat.
I blink hard, forcing my lungs to work again. I pull in a shallow breath through my nose, paste a smile on my face, and look up—pretending everything’s fine.
“You hungry?” Alex asks, hooking a thumb toward the kitchen.
“No.” I say, still trying to shove down the horrific thoughts curling through me. “I think…” I swallow hard, “I think I just want to call my mom. If that’s okay.”
“Of course.” Dakota speaks up first, his voice gentle. He fishes his phone from his hoodie pocket, unlocks it, and holds it out to me, the screen glowing softly in his palm. “Here. Use mine.”
My gaze flickers between him and the phone. “I thought you were going for a run,” I say.
“Changed my mind.” His smile falters—just a flicker—but he presses the phone into my hand. “Go on, sweetheart.”
“Thanks.” I take it carefully, the warmth of his hand still clinging to the metal edges.
He hesitates for a moment, looking deeply into my eyes, then he glances at Alex. “Hey, what do you say we head out to the garage, check that water heater?”
Alex blinks, frowning. “Why? It’s not even making that noise anymore.”
Dakota gives him a pointed look, but Alex doesn’t get it. “I’d really like for you to help me with it,” he says slowly.
Hell, even I can tell he’s just trying to give me some privacy.
Alex opens his mouth to protest, but Dakota doesn’t give him a chance. “Come on,” the beta sighs, grabbing Alex’s wrist and tugging him toward the front door.
Alex stomps after him, still confused. “This can’t wait ten fucking minutes for me to eat?”
The door swings shut behind them, and the house goes still.
I pace the living room with the phone in my hand. My thumb hovers over the screen. The bright reflection of my own face stares back at me, pale and uncertain. Then I take a deep breath and press “Call.”
The phone rings and rings.
Each tone stretches longer than the last. It’s weird. My dad always answers the phone pretty quickly. He’s usually on it, playing some ridiculous game.
By the fourth ring, I already know no one’s going to answer. The sound cuts off with a soft click, followed by my mother’s calm, distant voice drifting through the speaker:
“You’ve reached Phillip Mercer. Please leave me a message…”
I hang up before the beep, then I call my other dad’s cell. But his phone doesn't even ring, it immediately kicks to voicemail.
A sharp twist of sadness grips my stomach. I press the phone tight against my chest, swallowing hard against the burn in my throat. For a second, I almost give in to the childish urge to cry—I just want to talk to my mom—but then the screen buzzes in my hand.
My heart jumps.
The words flash across the screen:
Phil – Skyla’s Dad
My pulse trips over itself as I swipe to answer, hand trembling slightly.
“Dad?” I whisper.
There’s a faint rustle on the other end, the sound of someone exhaling like they weren’t expecting me to answer.
I don’t give him time to say anything as the words tumble out of me in a rush. “I didn’t mean to bother you,” I say quickly, twisting the hem of my sleeve around my fingers. “I know you’re probably busy, I just—um—can I talk to Mom? Just for a minute?”
Silence hums through the line.
I can hear the faint echo of a TV somewhere behind him, a low murmur of voices too far away to make out. For a second, I think the call might’ve dropped, but then I catch the sound of him clearing his throat—low, hesitant.
“Skyla.” The familiar voice says my name, slow and careful on his tongue, like he’s reminding himself how it sounds. “How are you, omega?”
I go completely still, breath locking in my throat. Every inch of my body goes cold.
That voice.
No.
No, it can’t be—
“Miss me, little omega?” Brayden’s tone curls through the line, smooth and cruel. “I’m so happy you called.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The room feels smaller, air thinning around me. My pulse hammers in my ears, a desperate, trapped rhythm. I can’t even hang up—my fingers are frozen around the phone, my palms slick with sweat.
“I was scared you’d forgotten about me,” he says, soft and mocking. “I’m glad that’s not the case.”
The sound of his deep chuckle drags me backward through time—every bruise, every tear, every breathless moment of fear crashing down all at once.
The words blur together until one sharp thought cuts through the haze—Why does he have my dad’s phone?
My stomach drops. My lungs seize. “Brayden…” My voice cracks as I force his name from my lips. “Where is my dad?”
There’s a pause on the line, long and heavy. I can almost hear the smile in his silence.
“What did you do to them?” My voice rises, panic threading around every word. “I want to talk to my parents.”
A low chuckle hums through the receiver, cold and deliberate. “You always were a smart little omega,” he murmurs. “Don’t worry about your parents. They’re…taken care of.”
Terror grips me, making my vision blur and my knees nearly give out.
“Brayden.” My grip tightens on the phone until my knuckles ache. “Please, don’t, don’t hurt them.”
He sighs—long and theatrical. “That depends entirely on you.”
Something sharp crawls up my spine, freezing every nerve. My heart pounds so hard it hurts. “What do you want?” I whisper.
His voice softens, almost tender. “You, of course.”
My throat tightens, as fear crashes into confusion, and my whole body begins to shake—not just from terror, but from rage that claws up through my chest. “You rejected me,” I grit out, my voice growing a little stronger.
“You sold me to a bunch of strangers in the middle of the damn woods, remember?”
“You wouldn’t listen,” he continues, his voice light, like it’s all that simple.
“You fucked up all the time on purpose, pushed back, and even mouthed off,” he rattles off the list with an easy tone.
“I tried to be patient, Skyla, but you—” he sucks in a sharp breath, then his voice drops, “—kept testing me. You brought it on yourself. But now, I’m ready to take you back.
To save you from the savage alphas that bought you. ”
My body shakes so hard the phone nearly slips from my grip.
“Brought it on myself?” I repeat, the words catching on a bitter laugh that sounds more like a sob.
“You handed me over, letting those men grope and humiliate me. You told them to take whatever they wanted!” I’m screaming now, and I can’t do anything to stop it.
“You didn’t care what happened to me. If I was abused, beaten, or raped. You are a fucking monster!”
The silence that follows is almost worse than his voice. I can hear my own breathing, ragged and uneven, my pulse hammering so hard I feel it in my teeth.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t like the attention,” Brayden finally says, the mockery dripping from every word. “You’ve always been a cock-slut. Honestly, it’s one of the few reasons I kept you around for as long as I did.”
A sound tears out of me—half gasp, half growl—and before I realize it, the phone’s on the floor, the call still faintly humming from the speaker.
My stomach turns. My whole body feels sick.
The phone crackles where it lies on the floor. I think the call’s cut out, but then Brayden’s voice slides through the speaker, low and intimate, like he’s crouched right beside me.
“I’m coming for you, Skyla.” His voice is distant. “We’ll be together soon. And now that our bond has taken hold, I’ll always be able to find you.”
My lungs seize. The world tilts sideways.
“Wherever you go. Whatever you do,” he continues, voice dropping into something reverent, almost joyful. “You’re mine. And I’ll kill anyone who tries to stop me.”
The line goes dead.
And then it hits.
A rush of something hot and vile floods my mind—so sudden it knocks the air out of me. It’s him. His joy, his anger, his awful, possessive want bleeding through my head like oil on water. My body convulses with it, my breath catching on a strangled sound that isn’t entirely mine.
I slap my hands over my ears, but I can’t stop it.
It’s inside my head.
And I can feel him smiling.