Chapter two #2
“The Santos pack is out of your league, little omega.” His thumb moves, slow and mean, on my thigh. “Don’t waste your time. They don’t take omegas, everyone knows that. And even if they did, they wouldn’t want a reject like you.”
He hits every sore spot, every wound. Years in the registry, not one bond. The Fosters are the only ones who even bother anymore, and now I’m starting to get why.
Nobody wants me. Not really. And the alphas who do? They want a problem to chew on, not a partner.
“I wasn’t staring,” I manage to say. My voice is tiny. “Just looking at the stage. Wondering when the program would start.”
Brennan studies me for a long second, trying to catch me in a lie. I meet his gaze and don’t blink. Finally, his face softens a fraction, but his hand stays right where it is.
“Program starts in about ten minutes,” he says, voice back to fake-nice. “Gabriel will give his speech about the orphans, everyone claps, then we eat and dance.” His smile is all teeth. “I can’t wait to show you off on the dance floor. Everyone will see what a perfect match we make.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat is tight, and all I can think about is his hand and that clock running out in my head. Three months. Four if I’m lucky. This is my future?
The lights dim. Someone makes an announcement over the speakers. I’m almost grateful for it—the perfect excuse to look away from Brennan and settle in for the show. The room quiets, people sit, and up on the stage, Gabriel Santos takes the mic.
He’s calm. When he talks, the whole room listens.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” he says, and I swear he looks right at our table, right at me, before moving on like it was nothing. “The Santos pack is honored to sponsor this event in support of children who, through no fault of their own, find themselves without families.”
He talks about the orphanage the charity supports. The kids who live there. The programs that help them find real families—a pack, a home, the love every child deserves. He talks about his pack’s commitment, why it matters to them personally. His voice is sincere in a way you can’t script.
I should be listening. These are things I care about, normally. But I can’t focus. All I can feel is heat blooming in my chest. My omega, usually silent and hiding, is suddenly wide awake and reaching. For him.
It’s ridiculous. I don’t know this man. Never met him, never talked to him, never even been close enough to get his scent. But some part of me is acting like I’ve been waiting for him forever.
Just attraction, I tell myself. He’s good-looking and powerful and talking about helping orphans. Anyone would be drawn in by that. Doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.
But my omega isn’t interested in logic. She’s straining, reaching, like she’d throw herself at the stage if I didn’t hold her down.
Brennan’s grip on my thigh tightens, hard enough to hurt, and I realize I’ve been staring. Again. He’s vibrating with rage now, his scent gone sharp and cutting.
“Let me make something very clear,” he hisses, leaning so close I can feel his lips brush my ear. “You’ve been in the registry for a long time and not a single pack has ever held interest long enough to bond. Do you know what people are saying about you?”
I don’t answer. I know what people think of omegas like me. That we’re difficult. That something in us is broken. That we’ll die early and alone.
“My pack has been patient,” Brennan goes on.
“We’ve pursued you with respect, given you space, waited while you played around with other options that were never going to work out.
But our patience has limits, Lily. You should be grateful that anyone still wants you at all.
You should be on your knees thanking us, not drooling over packs that would never look twice at someone like you. ”
It hurts. I wish it didn’t, but it does. Because what if he’s right? What if this is the best I can get—a pack that wants me for reasons I don’t understand, who makes my omega panic every time they’re near? What if something in me is broken, and that’s why nothing ever feels right?
Maybe I should be grateful. Maybe I should just accept it and stop hoping.
Maybe that’s my best shot at surviving.
“I understand,” I whisper, because fighting will only make it worse. “I’m sorry.”
“Good.” Brennan lets go of my thigh and slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. From across the room, it probably looks sweet. “Now smile and pay attention to the speech. We want everyone to see what a perfect omega you’re going to be for us.”
So I smile. I pretend to listen. Inside, my omega has gone quiet, and that other part of me, the part that was reaching for Gabriel Santos just minutes ago, is gone.
On stage, Gabriel finishes his speech and the room erupts in applause. For a second, his eyes scan the crowd, and for a second I think he finds me. His face changes. A flicker, maybe recognition, maybe curiosity. But then it’s gone.
He looks away. The moment’s over. And I’m still at Brennan Foster’s table, his arm heavy across my shoulders.
Dinner drags on forever.
Course after course appears: salads with flowers, soup, perfect steak, and roasted vegetables. I eat none of it, just push things around my plate and sip water so it looks like I’m trying. Brennan takes over the table, charming and clever, always in control.
His pack is good at this. Jules cracks jokes that make everyone laugh. Tyler watches everything, all sharp eyes and silence. Kaison just looms at the end of the table. He doesn’t have to say anything. No one approaches.
And me? I smile when I’m supposed to. Nod along. Count the minutes until I can leave.
Halfway through the main course, I spot a chance.
There’s a group of alphas at a nearby table. Four of them, all relaxed and open, their laughter easy. One of them catches my eye—a tall guy with warm brown eyes and a gentle smile. He nods at me, polite. His pack looks… normal. Nice. Safe in a way Brennan’s never has.
Maybe my instincts aren’t completely broken. Maybe there are still alphas out there who don’t make my omega want to scram.
“I need to use the restroom,” I murmur to Brennan, already standing. “I’ll be right back.”
He grabs my wrist, hard but not quite hard enough to bruise. “Don’t be long. We still have a lot to talk about.”
“Of course.” I slip my hand free and hurry away, heart pounding.
My plan is simple: hit the restroom, then stop by the friendly pack’s table on the way back. Introduce myself. Make conversation. See if there’s a spark. The registry wants us to mingle, after all—it’s literally the point of letting us go to these events.
I don’t make it three steps before Jules is at my side, his hand curling around my elbow.
“Lily! Let me walk you to the restroom. These events can be overwhelming for unbonded omegas. I’d hate for you to get lost.”
“That’s really not necessary—“
“I insist.” His smile is cold, stretching too wide, and he guides me away from the friendly alphas, away from any hope of escape. “Brennan would never forgive me if I let something happen to you. You’re very important to him. To all of us.”
It makes my skin itch, how he says it, but there’s no way out that won’t cause a scene. So I let him lead me to the restroom, his hand never leaving my elbow, making it clear I’m being watched. Controlled.
Inside, I splash water on my face and stare at my reflection. The omega looking back is pale, her eyes too bright, makeup starting to smear. She looks scared. Trapped.
We are trapped.
I dry my face, do my best to fix the makeup, and step back out.
Jules is waiting, of course. He falls in beside me as we head back to the ballroom, and I resign myself to another hour or two at Brennan’s table, playing the part while my omega screams.
But as we near the dining area, I see my shot. The friendly pack is closer now, only a few feet away. If I can just steer toward them, maybe say hi before Jules can stop me—
“Actually,” I say, slowing down, “I think I might mingle a little before heading back. That’s what these gatherings are for, right?”
Jules’s grip tightens. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“The registry encourages us to meet multiple packs.” I keep my voice bright, like I’m not fighting for my life. “It’s important for compatibility.”
“You have a pack interested in you. Ours. There’s no need to shop around.”
“I’d still like to—“