Lily
Chapter twenty-one
Waking up is like coming to the surface of a grave.
The headache is my first greeting, pulsing inside my skull like a warning.
Probably been there for hours. I’m just lucky I got to sleep through it.
My stomach’s a tight, angry knot, squeezing up around the nausea.
I know that kind of ache—it says don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t even think about food unless you want to make things worse.
The room is dim, curtains pulled tight. Gray light presses at the edges.
I burrow deeper under the blanket, trying to get as small as possible.
Today is going to be one of the bad ones. And nobody’s here to stop it.
Yesterday is still haunting me. I keep poking at it in my head, even though it only makes things worse.
It’s not like I didn’t know. He’s made it obvious, even from the gala, the registry, everything Dr. Turner said about the Foster pack losing their mind when Gabriel took me instead.
But I figured it was all paperwork. Rules and regulations, not obsession.
I didn’t think Brennan would actually show up here, sit in our living room, and try to buy me like I’m a piece of cattle or something.
He’s not going to let it go. Men like Brennan never stop.
But Gabriel told him no. He stood up, looked Brennan straight in the eye, and said I wasn’t property.
That he’d personally stop Brennan from ever getting to me.
And for a second there, standing in the hallway, I felt something I haven’t felt in forever.
Safe. Like someone who actually had the power to help had decided I was worth it.
And then I came back to my room and remembered Gabriel also called me nothing.
That he told Miles biology can be fought.
He’s spent every day since I arrived looking for a way to send me somewhere else.
I don’t know why he changed his mind and let me stay longer, but I don’t think it’s out of the goodness of his heart.
I don’t think his heart has room to be good to me.
Gabriel protected me from Brennan. But he won’t protect me from himself.
I hear footsteps in the hallway around seven. Heavy, deliberate. Gabriel.
He appears in my doorway. I don’t bother sitting up because I know it’ll make my stomach worse, so I tilt my head on the pillow and look at him.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, coming to stand beside my bed.
Like death, but I say, “Fine.”
He doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t press. I know he doesn’t really care, but it’s in his nature to be polite. “I talked to Miles this morning. He’ll behave while we’re out. But it’s best if you stay in your room. As little contact as possible.”
“Okay.”
“The alphas and I have meetings. We’ll be back by five. If you need anything medical, call Dr. Turner’s office. Not Garrett.”
“I know.”
He starts to leave, then pauses. He stands there, and I take my time with the silence because I kind of like having him close by.
I can already feel it, his scent rolling in, and my omega stretches toward it without thinking.
The smell alone dulls the headache a little. My stomach loosens, just a smidge.
I lean toward him. It’s automatic. My hand comes out from under the blanket, reaching for his arm like you’d grab for a railing when you’re about to fall.
He steps back.
A quick step back, like I tried to hit him instead of reaching. He shuts down, his face going blank with… avoidance. Even worse than anger or disgust. Indifference. Like being near me is more than he can bring himself to care about.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I reached for something that wasn’t mine.
“Control yourself, Lily.” His words are clipped. “I told you before —“
“My head hurts. I just wanted—“
“Take your medicine. You’ll be fine.” He’s already halfway out. “You can’t touch me. You can’t touch any of us. If you can’t manage that, I’ll send you to the Carrs the day they’re back. No more visits, no more options. You’ll go.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.” Even dying would be easier if I did it politely.
“Stay in your room. Leave my omega alone.”
And he’s gone. His footsteps echo down the hall, and with every step the cedar and smoke fades, the headache comes roaring back, and my stomach knots up tight again. Now I’m alone in a room that smells like nothing but me and my own failure.
The Carrs are gone. That must be the reason I’m still here. I should have known Gabriel wasn’t being merciful.
Deep down, I think I did.
His omega. Leave his omega alone. The one that isn’t me. I’m not anyone’s omega. I’m not even a person anymore—I’m a problem, waiting to get shipped off somewhere.
I roll over and pull the blanket over my head, disappearing as best I can.
I sleep for a while, I think. Not real sleep, just that blurry floating when the pain is too loud to rest but too heavy for waking. I drift in and out, tracking the silence of the house, the empty air, the way the pain grinds on and on.
Then the blanket is gone.
Ripped away in one move, cold air slapping me awake. I gasp, open my eyes, and there’s Miles, standing over me, my blanket balled up in his fists and his whole face twisted with rage.
“Get up.”
“Miles, what—“
“GET UP.” He throws the blanket across the room. It smacks the wall and falls to the floor. “You think I’m going to let what you did go? Crawling into Garrett’s bed like a little bitch in heat?”
“That was days ago—“
“Days ago, yesterday, what’s the difference? You waited until I wasn’t looking and then you went to my softest alpha, let him hold you, purr for you, and you think I’m just going to forget about that?”
I’m sitting up now, which makes the world spin and my stomach lurch. “Miles, I was sick. I was in pain. I just needed—“
“You needed to steal my pack. That’s what you needed.” He grabs my arm and yanks. I spill off the bed, hitting the floor hard enough for the pain to light up my side. He stands over me, blocking out the light, breathing hard, his scent going all harsh and metallic.
“Miles, please—“
“I want you gone. Today. Right now. I’m done waiting for Gabriel to grow a spine. I’ll drive you to the registry myself. I don’t care if I’m not supposed to drive alone, I’ll do it.”
“I have nowhere to go.” My voice is so small I hate it. “The Carrs aren’t here. If I go to the registry, they’ll—“
“I don’t care about you! I don’t care about the Carrs! I care about MY pack, MY alphas, MY home, and you are poisoning all of it! Tell the fucking registry you won’t accept the Foster pack. They’re not going to force you.”
“They will—“
“SHUT UP! You’re just trying to find a way to stay. The registry doesn’t force omegas into bonding.”
He’s tearing through my things now. Pulling open drawers, throwing shirts and pants into the suitcase—the same ones that took me forever to unpack because I was afraid of something exactly like this.
“Stop,” I beg. “Miles, please stop.”
He ignores me. He’s at the closet, yanking my few dresses and sweaters down, hangers clattering. Everything crumpled together.
“You’re going back to the registry. You’re going today. I’ll drag you there if I have to.”
“Please. I don’t have anywhere—“
“THEN GO NOWHERE! Live in the fucking street for all I care! Just get OUT of my HOUSE!”
I’m on the floor, curled up, arms wrapped tight around myself.
I want to fight, I want to scream at him, throw something, break something, be the girl who shattered the mug in the kitchen.
But I can’t. That girl is long gone, buried under pain and exhaustion and the dead-certain feeling that no one is coming to save me.
Gabriel told me to stay in my room and leave Miles alone, and I did.
Miles came anyway, and there’s no rule that protects me from the people already inside the house.
There’s no rule that protects me at all. Those are only for their omega.
I apologize, again. “I’m sorry, Miles. I’m sorry about Garrett. I’m sorry about everything. I’ll leave. I’ll go wherever Gabriel sends me. You’ll have them back. I promise.”
It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. He grabs my ankle, hard, and yanks. I skid across the floor, pajamas riding up, my hip scraping along the wood.
“Get up. We’re going.”
That’s when my body gives out. My stomach, already on the edge, seizes up, and I barely have time to turn my head before I throw up.
It’s all bile and water, nothing else, hot and sour and awful. It splashes across the floor, all over my hands, my shirt sleeves. I can’t stop—I heave and cough until there’s nothing left. The sound is ugly, desperate, and I want it to end.
Miles lets go of my ankle.
I stay there, lying on my side, shaking, my throat burning, tears streaming down my face. The headache is a siren now. My stomach won’t settle. I can’t even remember when the tears started.
I look up at him.
Miles is three feet away, hands at his sides, staring at me.
The anger is gone. Now his face is wide open, stunned, like he’s seeing me for the first time.
Maybe horrified. Maybe realizing that I’m not faking it or putting on a show.
I’m actually falling apart. I think he finally understands this isn’t a game he can win.
There are no winners. Everyone loses something here.
He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Then he turns and leaves.
I stay where I am. I can’t move. I should clean up—I always clean up—but I can’t. Every muscle hurts. I want everything to stop. The pain, the fear, the fact that nobody wants me but everyone wants to fight over me. I want it done. I want everything finally done.
I don’t know how long I stay there. It feels like forever.
Then Miles comes back. He’s got a glass of water, a bucket, rags, and the blue gloves from under the sink.
He sets the water next to me. Pulls on the gloves. Gets down on his knees and starts cleaning the floor.