5. Bella Rose
Chapter 5
Bella Rose
A persistent beep pulls me from darkness, and the light flares behind my eyes too brightly. The world appears as if it’s behind a layer of plastic wrap, glossy and out of focus.
A fuzzy shadow descends. I blink again to see a blurry Marigold leaning in.
“Oh, thank gods. I’ve been freaking out!” She grabs my hand, but the movement causes a stinging pressure on my elbow.
It takes me too long to realize I’m attached to an IV. “What happened?” I ask, but it comes out wobbly. My throat is desert dry, and my lips are cracked.
“Did you perfume? They’ve been running all these tests. The moms won’t tell me anything,” Marigold questions rapidly, looking over her shoulder.
Swallowing is a no-go. “Water,” I croak, still groggy and confused.
I lean against the pillow and close my eyes, willing everything to make sense.
“Here.” Marigold holds a straw to my lips, and the cool water is so good that I could cry.
I lift my head, trying to take another sip, but the movement sends a sharp slap of pain through my skull.
What the fuck happened? Trying to remember only makes my head throb.
Marigold snatches the water back and leans in. “Bella! Did you present? Did it cause a heat spike or something? Based on what I saw, I think you did.” She winces. “I didn’t know it was that powerful, I swear.”
Her words take me too long to process, but when I do, it’s like a floodgate. I remember our birthday, the lake house party—Nash Wells on the roof. Marigold gave me that stupid star, and I was about to get my first kiss, but then I can’t remember anything else.
Surveying my body, I try to puzzle it out. I’m clearly in the hospital. My arms and chest are covered in bandages, and everything hurts. I replay the night in my mind, and it starts to add up. “You drugged me. That’s why I’m here?”
Marigold gasps, sitting back on the bed wide-eyed. “Harsh much? I did it for you! Did it work?”
I lick my lips, trying to understand what she’s saying, but my anger overrides all rational thought. “I’m in the hospital from whatever you gave me, and you want to know if it worked?”
My cousin stands, folding her arms over her chest. “Of course I’m sorry you ended up hurt! I wasn’t trying to get us in trouble. I just wanted it to be like it used to be.”
The machine next to me beeps loudly, red lights flashing.
Little dots dance in my vision, and my chest feels too tight, as though all the air has been sucked from the room.
A nurse barges in, hurrying to the machine.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
“Bella!” Marigold whispers frantically. She leans over me, hands on my face, and her eyes wide with fear. “I was trying to help. Don’t tell them it was me, okay? I said you asked me to get them.”
“Out!” the nurse demands, shooing Marigold toward the door.
My hands ball in the stiff sheets as I try to force air into my lungs. The door opens, and my family pack rushes in. My mother holds on to Marigold as she shouts questions.
It’s too much. I twist, panting, wishing the air would reach me.
The nurse hovers, her tone soothing, though I can’t make out the words. So quick I’m not ready, darkness returns.
* * *
The doctor flashes a light in my eyes before kneading his fingers into the side of my neck. He makes a thoughtful sound in his throat and steps back, speaking to my parents. “The swelling is down, but her blood work this morning still shows elevated hormone levels.”
“That’s good, right? The high levels mean she’s going to perfume? That she’s getting ready to present?” my mother asks, her tone so overly cheerful it gives away her anxiety.
I look at the doctor, and the older alpha shifts uncomfortably. He takes off his glasses and rubs them with his coat. “I’m going to order some additional tests and see what we can find. The toxicology lab results came back. Your daughter was given H, a synthetic heat inducer that dealers lace with what we commonly refer to as LSD?—”
My older alpha father cuts in. “Could that do permanent damage to a young omega?”
The doctor’s face contorts into a grimace. “It’s possible. I have some theories about your daughter’s reaction, but I need to confirm with some tests. We’ll know more tomorrow.”
My fathers are a growling mess, hovering over my whimpering mother. She holds out her hand, patting mine.
“Oh, Bella—” Her words fizzle into sobs.
My dad scoops her up and takes her from the room while my Prime focuses on me.
“Dad, can someone tell me what’s going on?” My words aren’t strong. They crack and break. It feels as though no one will tell me what’s wrong with me or how I got here.
My Prime, the strongest alpha I know, chokes on a sob and runs his fingers across my forehead. “We’re trying to figure that out. You rest now, and I promise we’ll make it right.”
The doctor pulls my dad aside, and I try to listen, but the nothingness returns.
* * *
“Wait? I’m sorry. Does that mean I won’t perfume?” I ask, looking between the group of doctors and nurses assembled in my hospital room.
I’ve been up for a solid couple of hours today, but I still don’t have answers. There have been crying parents and a tight-lipped nurse. It can’t be good that the doctor brought a team with him, all of them eyeing me like a science experiment.
“Yes, that’s what we’re saying,” the alpha doctor I’ve seen before explains, stepping out from the group.
“What?” my mother and I say in unison, twins in shock.
“You’re a beta,” he says with a sigh. “The tests confirm.”
My mother squeezes my hand, shaking her head in disbelief. “No. That can’t be. She’s my daughter, and I’m from a long line of omegas. We only have omegas. Run the tests again.”
I look to my fathers for help, but they won’t meet my eyes. “I’m delayed. That’s all, right? You see my scent gland?—”
Another doctor steps from the pack, and her eyes never leave her chart as she explains. “I’m Dr. Winifred, brought in to consult. Bella Rose does display sex characteristics that are often attributed to omegas, but these natural variations occur in some betas as well. We’ve collected samples that we’ve sent back for genetic testing, but scans have confirmed that her reproductive system matches that of a sixteen-year-old female beta.”
The longer the doctor speaks, the more my stomach drops until I think I might puke. My ears ring, but a voice deep inside me screams what I’ve known. I’m broken.
“Mom?” I ask desperately, over and over.
My mother collapses on the end of the hospital bed, sobbing hysterically. My fathers stand still, frozen, staring until my mother’s wailing seems to kick them in gear. They surround me in a hug.
“It’s all right, honey. It’s gonna be all right,” my Prime promises.
I beat against their chests until all the fight bleeds out of me.
My mother cries for both of us while I slowly go numb.
It’s like someone died.
No. Scratch that. It’s like I died.
No more Bella Rose, omega. That girl—she isn’t me.
* * *
After my meltdown, time seems to slow and speed up all at once until I don’t know what day it is. It’s hard to care about anything when everything falls apart.
My Prime slips into the room and nods toward the door. “The boys. The ones from the party that brought you in. They’re still here, Bella. Both of them have been coming every day, asking about you. You scared us all, and they?—”
“I don’t want to see them.” I turn my head away and stare at the beeping monitor.
The doctors explained that what Marigold gave me was a laced heat inducer and that, as a beta, I had a severe reaction to the surge in hormones. But I still have no idea what really happened that night or why Dane Daniels was involved. I begged my mother to get me a new phone because mine was lost in whatever happened. It’s not like I have anyone to text and ask, but at least then I could stalk socials. So far, my mother has been too busy trying to persuade the doctors to run more tests to really listen.
If I were stronger, maybe I’d let Nash and Dane in and demand they tell me about that night. Except the thought of talking to them makes me want to puke. I’m mortified by the whole thing. They’re the last people I want to see. Well, maybe after Marigold. I told the police she gave the drugs to me without my consent. It started a war between our mothers. She’s in serious trouble, and I don’t care. She’s dead to me.
My father worries over me, concerned, but I tune him out, turning onto my side. He sighs when he realizes I’m not listening. He reaches over me and places a teddy bear on the bed, leaning in to speak softly. “Nash wanted me to give you this. I’ll leave you be for now and see about getting us out of here.”
When the door latches, I pick up the stuffed bear. It’s wearing a miniature Knotty Pines jersey with Nash’s number and a piece of paper taped to its chest that says, “Another number for your collection. Hope you’re recovering, football girl.”
I hold it up to my nose and get the faintest whiff of salt and grapefruit. His scent and the note make me smile, but then I remember where I am. I force myself to put the gift on the tray next to my bed.
That’s not meant to be mine, not anymore.