Chapter 18
DIANA
“Don’t torture that slug,” Cassandra drawls, not looking up from her book.
Scorch glances over, grinning like she’s been caught mid-sin. “It’s invasive.”
“How do you know?” Cassandra fires back.
Scorch flicks her knife toward her, lazy and precise. “Read a book about it.”
I decide it’s best not to get involved, and instead, I take the opportunity to watch and learn more about that. Alicia and Mira are sitting in a corner together, exchanging what looks like notes from Mira as Alicia talks to her in a quiet tone.
I’m not sure where Juno is.
Mira moves quietly from her corner, the air shifting with her as Alicia smiles a little at me, getting up to put a kettle of water on the stove, ignoring the other two. Mira sits beside me on the couch, folding her legs under herself like a ghost learning to be human. “Hi,” she says softly.
I look her over, a little shocked. “Oh, hi.”
“I don’t like to talk,” she adds after a moment, staring at the wall instead of me, “but you can talk to me if you want. Even if I don’t answer.”
Something about the way she says it makes my chest ache. “That’s kind of you to offer,” I tell her.
She nods, a quick, jerky motion. “Juno lets me talk to her sometimes. So does Alicia. It’s… good to.” Her voice cracks on the last word, like speech itself hurts. Then she presses her lips together and looks away, conversation closing like a door gently shut.
“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” I murmur, glancing toward Alicia, who keeps her back to us as she warms the kettle. The hiss of the steam fills the silence, loud enough to drown out everything else. She hardly flinches.
Mira exhales shakily, fingers wringing the hem of her sleeve. “Alicia’s hard of hearing, by the way. Letters and paper work best for her,” she whispers. The omega stands to remove what little weight she added to the couch and hurries off.
There’s a nagging in my chest, like I can understand how little packs form. These women are bound not by love, but by survival. Each of them scarred in different ways, circling each other for warmth like animals that know better than to trust, but also hate to be lonely.
And I wonder—when this ends, if it ever ends—what happens to someone like me? When I’m no longer an omega, when I stop being hunted, will there still be anyone left I can call mine?
As I sit in my own mind, I glance up when someone comes in through the front door. The person reeks of omega and enters like she owns gravity—short, striking, with eyes and hair that match mine. The room goes taut, and I’m not sure why. Is she practically in charge here, or something?
“Roxy, you’re back?” Juno asks, and my stomach drops so much my back hunches over.
The fact that she does look like me makes my stomach sink even further, finding something off about that. I don’t even know what it would mean, but I still don’t like it.
There’s something I don’t like about any of this, and I can’t tell what it is.
Her gaze lands on me. Then she inhales with a raise of her lip—deep and deliberate, the way an alpha might. She heads right to her room, nearly slamming it shut.
The following night, I leave my room to get some water.
I hesitate when I see someone at the dining table, sitting in the dark next to an oil lamp. It’s Roxy, and she’s knitting something small. When I decide that there’s no reason for her and me to have any issues, given I don’t want Judge, I go to get my water.
“So, you came here smelling like Judge,” Roxy says, and I eye one of the knives nearby like I might have to freaking use it on her. “Smells an incredible amount like Judge. I can’t tell for sure, though, since you still stink of suppressants.”
I turn on the sink, watching the water swirl around inside the glass cup. “I’m not talking about it,” I reply.
“He never smells of omegas, so that wouldn’t make much sense if it were Judge.” Roxy places her knitting needles down. “Guess it’s time for a change, isn’t it?”
I partially glance her way, and then back at the water like I can’t make it more obvious. “I just want some water.”
Roxy stands, her chair dramatically scooting against the floor, nearing me as she places a hand on a knife that was left out by the lemons, readjusting it a few times as I hear the metal on stone.
I glare at her, holding my breath like I might have to throw this water in her face.
“I can tell you I don’t want him,” I say, although the words that come out don’t feel true.
Her eyes, a similar shade of light brown to mine, glance up at me. “Why did you smell of him?”
“He’s the one who carried me away,” I quickly say, wanting this woman’s attention off of me. Is she plotting to kill me? “Over his shoulder,” I lie. “He kept me in his jeep just because we were traveling, and I had already stabbed him with a needle. He didn’t trust me with anyone else.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You stabbed him with a needle?”
“Yeah, he’s not exactly happy with me,” I lie further.
The sound of more feet approaches us, but I don’t turn to look so as not to give Roxy an opening.
“Roxy, leave her alone,” Juno says, walking past me to stand between us.
She’s wearing a massive sweater that’s nearly a dress on her, shaking out her hair that’s down.
“She’s not going to steal Judge. Are you touching that knife? Seriously?”
Relief floods Roxy’s face, and she looks between us like she’s been caught with her pants down, sliding the knife toward the wall.
“Oh, I was just checking, Juno. I know Judge’s scent.
But it’s all understood now.” My blood runs hot, my instincts nearly wanting to growl at her for saying it like that.
“Have a good night, ladies,” Roxy says, smiling sweetly at us.
Juno turns to me. “Girl, you might want to lock your door at night.”
“Yeah, really caught onto that,” I say, drinking the water before placing the empty cup upside down on a towel. “Appreciate coming out here, Juno.”
She looks me over. “It’s okay. I know it’s hard to be one of us in this world. We don’t need to make it harder on each other.”
“Thank you,” I say, smiling at it.
With a little polite nod to each other, I grab one of the thick wool blankets from the couch, step into some shoes, head out to the courtyard, and just stand there for a moment to try to disassociate.
As I take a few more steps, frozen leaves crunching underfoot, the cold is so distracting and helpful.
It bites with such a bitter touch that I can just mentally float away.
My brother and I used to hang out underneath an oak tree near our habitation. My eyes sting with the threat of tears to feel so close to him, and yet I know I’ll never see him again. All I have left is Selene.
What would she think of me if she could see me now?