Chapter 4 #2
Drake fills gaps with random work stories. Eli asks gentle questions about her favorite tea, books, whether she prefers baths or showers for scheduling purposes. Ragon mostly listens, interjecting with logistical questions about her things, routines, needs.
I sit and catalog every flinch, every dart of her eyes toward the alphas, every shift when her scent brushes mine.
By the time plates are cleared, I feel raw.
***
The morning blurs into them circling each other.
Marie hovers in doorways, unsure where she's allowed to exist. The alphas hover around her, trying not to crowd while trying to make space.
"Mi casa, su casa," Drake jokes at one point, sweeping his arm at the living room. "Except you have to share it with three very large men and a feral omega who might bite you."
"Ha-ha."
Marie gives a strained smile. "I appreciate the warning."
We end up in the living room after lunch—even more awkward than breakfast. The TV plays some nature documentary on low volume that everyone pretends to watch.
Marie sits on one end of the couch, feet tucked under her, hands wrapped around tea Eli made.
Drake takes the middle, leaning forward with elbows on knees.
Eli claims the armchair closest to me; I've taken the floor there, back against his leg so I can feel his presence without having to look at his face.
Ragon is by the window in his usual post, arms crossed, gaze scanning room and beyond like a guard dog.
Theater rehearsal. Everyone playing at normal while instincts snarl beneath the surface.
"So," Drake says after too many minutes of manufactured silence. "Tell us about yourself. I'm sure you're sick of hearing us analyze your bloodwork."
She huffs a tiny laugh. "A little."
Eli's lips twitch. "We don't do it in front of you."
"Comforting."
Ragon inclines his head. "Share what you're comfortable sharing. You don't owe us your entire history on day one."
Her shoulders relax slightly. "Thanks."
She sips tea, gaze dropping to the mug. "There's not much to tell. I grew up about an hour from here. Small town, big church, everyone knowing everyone's business. My parents were strict. Not in the 'no friends, no TV' way. More the 'your value is in how well you obey' way."
My stomach twists. That flavor of control is familiar.
"They weren't thrilled when I presented as omega. Too much. Too needy, too emotional, too expensive. Everyone in town knew—omegas are rare enough that we don't get to keep it quiet. Suddenly my mom had this prize on her hands."
She says "prize" like it's a bruise.
"They sold you." The words escape before I can stop them.
Her eyes flick to mine. "They set up meetings with packs. No one made me sign anything without consent. They knew they couldn't. But they made it clear 'no' wasn't really an option. Said it would stabilize me. Said it would be selfish to cling to them when I needed strong alphas to handle me."
Drake's scent darkens with anger. Eli's jaw clenches. Ragon's eyes go flinty.
"How old were you?"
"Eighteen when the meetings started. Nineteen when I finally signed with a pack." She swallows. "It didn't go well."
My heart stutters. "They hurt you."
Her fingers tighten around the mug. "They didn't hit me. Not like that. They just didn't want me. They wanted the idea of an omega. Someone pliant and grateful who would be so thrilled to be chosen that she wouldn't notice how little they did in return."
My throat closes.
I know this story. Different set dressing, same stage.
"They said I was too sensitive. Too clingy.
Too useless outside the house. I tried to do everything right.
But they never wanted to hold me. Never wanted to make a nest with me.
They wanted a status symbol. Eventually they gave me three choices: find another pack myself, go back to my parents, or register. "
The word hangs in the air like a curse.
My skin prickles.
"You chose the registry," Eli says gently.
She nods. "I stayed there for months. Long enough to realize I couldn't breathe.
Too loud, too many scents, too many people looking at me like I was a listing.
" A bitter smile pulls at her mouth. "I requested a private room, which they barely granted.
Started working in their kitchen just to have something that felt like mine.
Every day I watched omegas leave with new packs and thought—maybe being here forever would be better than being someone's breeding prize. "
Part of me respects her for that.
Another part curls with jealousy that she got the choice.
"And then you got into a fender bender and yelled at me when I tried to examine your wrist."
She huffs a real laugh. "You grabbed me without warning."
"I apologized!"
"Later."
"Slow learner," Eli murmurs.
"I'm right here."
Despite myself, I snort.
Marie's gaze catches mine at the sound. For a split second, something like camaraderie flickers there. Shared understanding of idiot alphas.
I look away.
"And you?" she asks after a moment. "What about you guys? I know some things from your file, but that's clinical. Not real."
Drake perks up, eager to shift attention. "Well, I'm obviously the handsome one—"
"You're the loud one."
"Loud and handsome."
Ragon shakes his head, but his scent loosens. "Drake is an ER nurse. Eli's a physician. I'm a contractor. We met through work and mutual friends."
"That's the boring version," Drake says. "The real version is Eli patched me up after I tried to break up a fight in the waiting room, and Ragon nearly threw a guy through a wall for shoving a pregnant omega."
Her eyes widen. "Did he?"
"Sadly, no. Hospital cameras."
Ragon grunts. "The man was warned."
"And her?"
The room stills.
My heart leaps into my throat. Every muscle tenses.
"No," I say. "We don't need to—"
"She had a pack before us," Drake blurts. "They were assholes."
My vision goes white around the edges.
"Drake," Eli hisses.
"What? Marie just told us her horror story. It's fair. We're all sharing."
"I don't want to share that. Especially not in front of her."
Marie's brows knit. "I didn't mean to pry. I just thought—"
"It's not a big deal," Drake plows ahead like the oblivious golden retriever he can be.
"It's just that her first pack sent her back to the registry when they found their scent match.
You know how some packs are. Obsessed with the perfect bond.
They made a stupid choice. You're not the only one who's been treated like a product. "
The words hit like a physical blow.
Sent her back. Stupid choice. Like a product.
He doesn't say unwanted toy, but my brain fills in the rest.
I feel exposed. Stripped naked in the middle of the room. My worst shame held up like a cautionary tale.
Marie's gaze snaps to me. A hundred calculations flicker in an instant.
Returned omega, her eyes say. Not good enough. Not kept.
My cheeks burn. My scent spikes sharp and sour with humiliation.
"You didn't have to tell her that."
Drake blinks. "I thought—"
"You thought what? That we'd trauma-bond and braid each other's hair while we cry about being throwaways?"
Eli says something soft behind me but I can't hear it over the roaring in my ears.
Marie flinches. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have asked—"
"You didn't. He volunteered it. Like a fun fact. 'Here's our new omega, and here's the resale bin one that came with the house.'"
Color drains from Drake's face. "That is not what I said."
"It's what it means!"
My whole body hums with rage and shame. My instincts are in full panic—they're telling her so she knows she's the primary, you're the spare, they're warning her not to feel threatened because you've already been deemed unwanted once.
"I was trying to make you feel less alone," Drake says, rising from the couch. His own scent spikes—guilt, anger, alarm. "You both know what it's like to have packs treat you like—"
"Don't lump me in with her. You think if you throw me under the bus fast enough, she'll feel secure enough to stay? 'Don't worry, Marie, the other omega already got rejected once, she won't give you much competition.'"
Ragon's voice cuts through. Warning. “Vee.”
"And you." I whirl on him, pointing. "You just let him say it. In front of her. Like my value is some tragic little bio line on your household resume."
His eyes go hard. "That is not what happened."
"That's what it felt like. Like he stamped used goods on my forehead and invited her to read the label."
Drake looks stricken. "That is not—"
"You can't even deny it. You've had two months to get used to her existence. To talk it through. To decide how to 'handle' me. And this is what you landed on? Tell the new omega the old one's already proved she's not worth keeping?"
"Enough."
The word comes louder. Sharper.
I barrel over it. "What's next, you going to show her the return policy? 'Don't worry, if she causes trouble, we can drop her off at the registry again.'"
Eli moves like he's going to put a hand on my shoulder. I shrug him off.
"You don't get to do that. You don't get to take my deepest humiliation and toss it into the middle of the room like you're sharing a cute anecdote. You don't get to decide when and how my trauma is a useful icebreaker."
"I said enough." Drake snarls it, moving to stand over me.
The sound shocks me into silence.
I've heard him angry before. Irritated, frustrated, snappy. Never this.
His scent slams into me, dominance surging like a wave. The easy, sparkling citrus goes hard and sharp, undercut with something deep and commanding that rarely surfaces.
My body reacts before my brain does. My knees nearly buckle. My mouth snaps shut.
He steps toward me, shoulders squared, hazel eyes blazing.
"Do not put that on me. Do not rewrite what I said because you're hurting. I would never, ever tell someone you're not worth keeping."
"You just told her I wasn't kept," I whisper.