Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THORNE
Something was wrong. The moment Noa’s little house comes into view, her face drops and her scent sours. The once-content smile is now a small frown, and it sets me on edge.
Noa’s house is the smallest in the neighborhood.
It’s a one-story home with an equally small front yard.
There’s a parked car in front of her home, and I sense that’s what’s wrong here.
It’s a newer car, a model from this year, and it shines under the moonlight.
It doesn’t fit in with the rest of the cars in this neighborhood.
“What… what are they doing here?” She mumbles as she slides out of Havoc’s reluctant arms. Her lack of shoes is the furthest thing from her mind as she approaches the car. I don’t let her escape from my side, even as she rushes toward the car.
Whatever this is, she isn’t facing it alone.
“What’s wrong?” Silas asks as he slides his way to stand in front of our Pack, as Havoc takes his stand in the back. With Otis heeling at Silas’s foot, we flock Noa like walls, and as much as nerves are cracking in my gut, I fucking love the feeling of protecting my omega.
“My parents.” Noa trails off as the sound of a door opening snaps our attention back to the car.
“Dear, what is this?” A feminine voice says as a woman and a man, both betas by their scents, exit the car.
They are both dressed in suits that scream expensive.
A woman in a gray suit with pearls around her neck and ears.
Her hair is pulled back so tight that I think her eyebrows are being pulled back, too.
“Noa, not texting back is rude, and we raised you better than this,” says the man who must be her dad.
He’s as tall as I am, yet shrunken down by the way he constantly has to fix his posture.
His shoulders move back and forth like wings on a bird, and I refrain from staring at them, as I may laugh and make this awkward encounter worse.
It’s different being on the outside of these kinds of encounters. I know this kind of person. I grew up with soulless parents who didn’t care who you were and only wanted you to be whatever it was they wanted.
The parents who were molding you to be the best in their eyes, instead of getting to know you.
They stomp on your dreams, your feelings, until you break free. I did when I finally got an offer from the Scented Scorpions and flew to Nashville. Never to talk to my parents again.
How Noa shrinks into herself lets me know she hasn’t broken away yet. Little did my omega know that she had a professional bird on her team.
“Mom, Dad,” she says, her hand pushing Silas to the left a bit and peeking her head around him. Just enough to see them, and my chest swells seeing the comfort she has in our Pack as her hand wraps around Silas’s biceps. “What are you doing here?”
“Bringing you home, of course,” her mother says with a simple shrug of her shoulder that has me growling. Taking my omega away? I don’t fucking think so.
“I am home—”
“Don’t start that nonsense; you had your fun; now it’s time to face reality.”
“It’s dangerous to be here alone; you’re an omega,” her father says, stepping forward and reaching a hand out, but Silas steps to the right, covering Noa, so he gets the message.
“Who are these men?” Noa’s mother snaps and makes Noa push on Silas to move out of her way and take her stance in front of our Pack.
“My scent matches.” She smiles a bit as she stares back at us, her hand still gripping Silas’s arm.
“Impossible—”
“Not impossible. Scent matches aren’t rare, just hard to find,” Noa says.
“You have a Pack,” her dad argues, and this bit of information makes all of us freeze.
She has a Pack?
“No—“ she argues, but they cut her off.
“Yes, the Fallon Pack—“
“Stop,” she yelps, turning to us and giving her back to her parents as she looks at us. Her eyes are wide with worry, and that makes the pit in my stomach solidify.
“Stop what? Telling the truth! Boys, I don’t know what she’s told you, but—”
“She’s not bonded, with all due respect, so she can’t have a Pack,” Silas says. As confident as he sounds, I know this information has shocked him in the way he’s yet to look at Noa. He’s nervous. Just as nervous as I am about this. What does this mean?
His friendly persona is long gone as he straightens his shoulders and looks at Noa’s parents.
“Well, even then, she certainly is not bonding to you,” her mother says, waving Noa to come to her, but Noa doesn’t move.
Her grip on Silas tightens, and heat washes over me. Maybe it’s her sharpening scent, maybe it’s the distress my omega is in, but I’ve had enough. My eye meets Havoc’s, and he nods.
“Do you have a hotel tonight?” I snip, interrupting whatever rant they were going on about.
Noa scrunches her eyebrows, maybe confused, but I’ve had enough of her parents ruining our night.
“Of course, we couldn’t stay in this—“
“Then go to it,” I say, grabbing Noa’s hand and walking her to her front door. She’s staring at the doorknob in shock, and I turn my back to her parents, focusing solely on her.
“Do you have the key, Peach Puff?” Her wide brown eyes meet mine as she slowly nods. Reaching into her purse, she grabs her key and unlocks the door.
“Noa, how dare you let these men talk to us like that.” Her father’s voice is sharp, but nothing is as sharp as the noticeable lack of scent coming from Noa’s open door.
I’ve never seen Noa’s house before, but from my view, the house is… trashed.
Completely trashed.
Noa can’t move. Everyone is silent as we gaze into the house, and I look to my leader. Silas snaps out of it first. Reaching between Noa and me, he shuts the door.
“Noa, was it like that when you left?” He asks.
She shakes her head no, but her parents scoff.
“She’s always been messy; I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the real world.”
“Havoc, search the house, ensure it’s empty. Thorne, stay with Noa. Mr. and Mrs. Odette, please,” Silas waves a hand towards their car. Grumbling, they leave, mentioning how late it is and blah blah, blah.
I take Noa’s hand and crash her into my arms. No longer able to resist comforting her.
Havoc nods as he makes his way back to us, and we step inside.
Noa has a mini entryway with hooks ripped from the wall, jackets, and glass covering the floor. I’m quick to scoop her into my arms. The glass crunches under my shoes as we step inside.
I stop in the entryway and turn around so we are facing the wall.
“We don’t have to look—”
“I need to see Thorne,” she murmurs, and I turn us back towards the mess, and I feel her tense in my arms.
Her kitchen doesn’t have a single dish, as they are all shattered on the floor.
Pink, yellow, and green ceramic pieces lay sharp on the floor, and her cupboard doors were torn from the hinges, left open so Noa could see the damage.
Someone wanted to hurt her, my omega, my peach, and they knew how to hit an omega hard. By destroying their space.
I try to keep my heart rate normal. I try not to let my anger show, wanting to be the calm to the storm wrecking her, but with each step into her house, my control slips.
She slides out of my arms as we get to the living room. Her pink couch is torn up, filling and fabric everywhere. A broken TV and a clearly jumped-on coffee table finish the damage to the living room.
“No, no, no, no, oh no,” Noa murmurs as she runs toward her bookshelf on the opposite end. I follow, my large footsteps making me swallow the little space between us.
“Noa,” Havoc’s voice rings, but nothing gets through to her. She drops to her knees, holding a piece of something cream in her hands.
“It’s broken— my grandmother’s sewing machine. It’s—” She breaks off sobbing as she hugs the pieces to her chest. The three of us aren’t sure how to comfort her. I want to swallow her into me, protect her from the world, but I can’t.
The things I find most valuable are people. They stand beside me, so I can’t imagine what Noa is going through. I can’t protect her from what’s already been done.
“Thorne,” her voice is low as she calls me, but I squat behind her.
I don’t touch in case that might set her off, but she leans back into me.
Her tears wet my shirt as she turns to face me.
With broken pieces in her lap, she meets my eyes and, for once, I see the anger I see in my own eyes reflecting back at me.
“Yes, peach puff.”
She swallows as she stares, gripping my shirt as she shakes her head. “The key is in my nightstand.”
“The key for what?” I ask, resting my head on her forehead as she curls into me.
“The key to my nest. Please,” she stops and takes a deep breath, as if it’s hard to speak through her throat. “Check my nest.”
“Noa—”
“I can’t do it.”
“How would they get in if I needed a key?” I ask her, but she shakes her head.
“I need you to check.”
“I checked the nest.” Havoc’s voice is deep as our gaze moves to the cracked-open door.
“Noa,” I say. Going into an omega’s nest is sacred—their most protected space. An omega’s safe space should only be entered with permission.
It’s not a place anyone can walk in, and she’s asking me.
“Havoc, was it—” the words disappear from me as I turn to see Havoc, who stands by a window. The dark look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. Fuck.
They were in there, too.
“Please check again,” she whimpers, and with that, Silas is yanking me up, away from her, by the back of my shirt and pushing me toward the closed white door.
The white door is chilling—the nerve of checking her nest, being the one to deliver the bad news.
Noa can’t see this. This is her nest.
I close the door behind me.
Her nest has a small window with a cream-colored curtain that’s ripped off the wall.
Her nest isn’t what I imagined it’d be. Light pinks, yellows, and oranges fill her home, but her nest is a calm serenity of creams and browns.
Or it was.
Now it’s covered in dirt from under a shoe and scuff marks on nearly every surface. Holes in the walls, tears in the blankets — her nest is gone.
I turn and place my head on the door. The room’s scent is completely gone; what should be peaches is a blank slate, and whoever was here didn’t want to be caught. That we know for sure, but who?
Who the fuck would do this? To Noa, of all people?