Chapter 31
brYLEE
I'm feeling infinitely lighter as I leave Teddie's wing. There's a skip to my step that wasn’t there prior, a bounce in my movements that feels foreign yet exhilarating. The air seems crisper, the colors brighter, as if the world itself is celebrating my small victory.
Stage one of my master plan: success.
I'm one step closer to returning to my scent matches.
Will they be happy to see me? Furious? I imagine it's the latter. A sliver of fear skates through me, but it's the good kind of terror. The thought of all of their rage and passion directed solely on me…
Well…
I bite my lower lip, the flesh yielding beneath my teeth. I don't necessarily like riling the guys up, but the thought of them "punishing" me causes my insides to twist and a scalding heat to invade my entire body.
Ridge would probably glower down at me, his eyes ablaze with unbridled passion, the twitch in his jaw commandeering my attention. His scent of pine and wildfire would wrap around me, suffocating in the most delicious way possible.
Colter would fold his massive, muscular arms over his chest and simply stare at me through the holes in his skull mask, not saying a word. A palpable tension would skewer the air, almost like a blade waiting to fall. His silence would be more terrifying than any shouted words.
Kylian would grin manically as he steps closer, not just encroaching on my personal space but absolutely dominating it. His chaotic energy would crackle around us, dangerous and enticing.
And Luka would reverently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and murmur, "What do you think you're doing here, Princess?" His voice would be low, dangerous, but with an undercurrent of something softer, something only I would be able to detect.
Coils of heat blast through me, pooling low in my belly.
Yes, I can't say I'd mind being the sole focus of their attention, their anger, their passion.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't register the person in front of me until my nose is flush against his chest. The impact sends me stumbling back, my hands flying up to cover my face in embarrassment. Shame rises in my cheeks, and I quickly step away, inwardly cursing myself.
"Sorry," I mutter, praying whoever it is I barreled into doesn't recognize me as the royal princess.
Knowing my luck, my unintentional blunder will make its way back to my mother, and she'll immediately enroll me in grace courses.
Are there even grace courses? Fuck if I know. I'll have to look over the Darling catalog one of these days. The thought of my mother's reaction makes me shudder. She'd probably hire some ancient, severe-looking instructor who'd make me walk with books on my head for hours.
"It's okay." The low, familiar voice rumbles through me like gravel, and I snap my head up immediately.
I recognize that sharp jawline and shock of brown hair, even though I'd only ever seen him a few times.
Brock.
One of the alphas in the Stirling pack my mother wants me to marry.
Why is he here?
For me?
Icy disdain sweeps through me, and I find my upper lip curling before I can stop myself. It takes considerable effort to rearrange my features into something not so…well…hideous. I smooth my expression, forcing my lips into a polite smile that feels brittle on my face.
"Brock." I nod politely and remind myself repeatedly it’s not his fault my mother’s an evil dictator with a superiority complex. "How…nice."
His own lips twitch. "I'm not here for you, Brylee. Don't worry."
Some of the tension in my shoulders loosens. Not all, but enough that the smile on my face this time is slightly more genuine.
"Sorry," I say sincerely, running a hand along the back of my head. "I didn't mean to be a..."
It'd probably be inappropriate for me to say a "raging bitch," so I just leave the statement as is.
"Look," Brock begins, absently scratching at the nape of his neck, "I know your parents have been pushing for you to join our pack." His shrewd, albeit kind, eyes laser in on me like two heat-seeking missiles. "But I also know that's not what you want. Am I wrong?"
Heat rises to my cheeks. "No."
I have no idea how much he knows about my relationship with Alpha Team X, but I think my feelings for them would be evident to anyone with eyes or ears. The bond between us is palpable, a force of nature that even casual observers must notice.
"Things don't have to be weird between us," Brock continues, still assessing me with that penetrating gaze of his.
"Your alphas… They're my friends. Our friends.
I would never go after their omega." He gestures between the two of us.
"I think I knew from the get-go that this?
Us? It'll never happen. I'm not upset about it.
You're a sweet and beautiful girl, Brylee, but I'm hoping…
" Now his smile turns decidedly sheepish, almost hesitant.
"Well, I'm hoping our pack will find our own scent match. "
"You will," I say immediately. "You are good men and fantastic alphas. But—"
"But we're not your alphas," he finishes, and I'm relieved he doesn't sound too torn up by the fact.
I meant what I said. Brock and his pack are inherently good. Kind. They'll make an omega happy one day. I only want the best for them. Their pack has a different energy than Alpha Team X—calmer, steadier, but no less powerful in its own way.
"If you see my mother, can you tell her that?" I say, only half joking.
Brock winces like I suggested he run through a battlefield naked while swirling a baton.
Yeah. I feel that.
"I may not be willing to do that, but anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask," Brock tells me, and the sincerity in his voice chisels at the walls surrounding my heart. "I'm your friend, Brylee. We're your friends."
Indecision stays my tongue, but only for a moment.
Before I can change my mind, I blurt out, "I want you to look into something for me. Someone."
One of his eyebrows arches—either in surprise that I already took him up on his proposal or confusion why I, the princess with infinite supplies at my disposal, would go to him.
"Of course," he answers immediately. No hesitation. "What do you need?"
"You probably heard about my…um…kidnapping." I twiddle my hands together as pain barrages me from every direction.
I don't want to think about my torture. Pedro. Their plans for me. Not now. The memories flash behind my eyes—cold metal, the smell of antiseptic, the sound of my own screams echoing off concrete walls. I push them down, hard.
A dark, thunderous expression distorts Brock's features. "I think everyone heard about it."
"Right." My stomach twists at that revelation.
How many people were privy to one of the worst moments of my life?
I haven't seen many pitying glances, but maybe…
maybe I just haven't been looking. "Well, you probably heard that my…
um…my brother's friend and roommate, Sam, helped.
I was hoping you could look into him and his motivations. "
Was it money that drove him to betray me? Greed?
A part of me doesn't want to know, but I can't keep my head in the sand forever.
Understanding Sam's intentions will, hopefully, allow me to heal.
The betrayal stings almost as much as the physical torture did.
Sam had been a part of my extended circle, someone I'd trusted, someone who'd seeped his way past my defenses.
Brock's expression softens, and he places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Of course. I'm sure a background check has already been done on him, but I'll dig deeper." He offers me a cheeky wink. "There's a reason we're the best of the best."
"Second best," I say, thinking of my own alphas.
Brock releases me and places one hand to his chest in mock offense. "You wound me!"
"Maybe you're the third best," I concede.
"So we're not even second best anymore?"
"Actually the fourth best." I pretend not to hear his feigned cry of outrage before we both burst into chuckles.
And as we finally separate, I feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
Teddie will help me.
Brock will help me.
Everything is finally turning around.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Probably.
How hard can it be to impersonate my brother and sneak myself onto the front line?
The thought sends a thrill through me, dangerous and exciting. I'm playing with fire, and I know it.
But for the first time in months, I feel like I have some control over my own destiny. The path ahead is fraught with danger, but I'm ready to face it. After all, what's life without a little risk?