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It’s the first time I’ve spoken to my exes since I left. Everything’s been through our lawyers, but how can I let this go?

Judge Harris spears me with a reprimanding look. “Miss Barnes, I suggest letting your lawyer talk for you. Parkers, I’ll give you the same advice.”

“Wecantake it, and we will. It’s the least of what we’re entitled to.” Kefling puts a hand on Jacob’s arm, pulling it back when he snarls, but I see the truth in his eyes.

This isn’t about the business or even what they think they deserve. They’re taking Nymph from me because I left. Because I made them look bad. They want the one thing that kept me alive when they tried to break me, and the courts are going to let them take it.

The knowledge does something to me and I juststop. My body’s here, but my mind is somewhere else. Running from the overwhelm like my friends accuse me of, maybe, but why is that such a bad thing? There’s no sadness here; no grief or anger. Just numbness that feels so much better than reality ever could.

Sasha rubs a hand discreetly over my shoulder, but I barely feel it. “Your Honor, you can’t seriously consider this. It’sobviously an attempt from an abusive pack to keep their former omega under thumb.”

“There’s been no proof of the abuse allegations,” Kefling argues.

“We’re aware, Counselor.” Judge Harris scrubs his face. “Before we dive too deep into this stunt, does opposing counsel have proof the business was created during Miss Barnes’ tenure with Pack Parker?”

“We do, Your Honor.” Kefling hands the bailiff a slip of paper, passing a copy to us too. It’s my business license, with the date loudly pronounced at the top. I don’t need to read it to know what it says.

I founded Nymph just under five years ago. Well within my tenure as Pack Parker’s omega.

A whine crawls up the back of my throat, loud as a scream and just as heart-wrenching even when I swallow it. Not only are my dreams ash, but I’ve dragged my best friends with me. They’ve invested so much into the storefront and if my exes take it, they’re going to loseeverything. Leaving to save myself has damned the people I love.

Judge Harris frowns at the page, then turns to me. “Miss Barnes, do you have a contract with your former pack to keep them out of your business?”

He knows I do, but with no proof it exists and no one willing to testify to the abuse I endured, I’m absolutely fucked.

“Miss Barnes?” He repeats.

“No.”

One hoarse word seals my fate.

Sighing, he drops the paper onto the bench and glares at my former pack. “Very well. It seems you have grounds for a continuation, Kefling. We’ll meet in four weeks to discuss the validity of Pack Parker’s claim before discussing further actions.”

Judge Harris disappears into his chambers and Sasha steers me out of the courtroom as our opponents congratulate each other. As always, she stays between us, ensuring they don’t get even a glimpse as I leave.

Once we’re outside, the real world filters in like paint dripping down a canvas. Every step forces me out of my comfortable numbness. There’s no pain, just an overwhelming sense of defeat. Failure. Understanding that these men won’t stop until I submit to them or fade altogether.

The whine I’ve been holding back leaks through my lips, the effect instant. Dropping her bag, Sasha hugs me close. There’s this faint ink and paper smell clinging to her clothes, but I can never tell if it’s from work, her pack, or her actual scent. It’s nice. Soothing, but sort of bland to the nose. She rubs my back; the strokes helping me control my breathing.

When I stop shaking, she pulls away, hands on my shoulder and dark eyes stealing my attention. “It’s not over. We’ll figure this out without losing Nymph.”

I almost tell her not to bother when Mother’s voice echoes through the empty space and we wince in unison.

When I filed the dissolution paperwork, Mother’s rampage to get mehomewent nuclear. Voicemails, texts, and emails sent telling how ungrateful I was for everything my pack did for me. That I was useless. Worthless. That they’d find someone new. Then more telling me that the Parkers were being kind in asking me to come back. That I should be grateful.

It wasn’t a surprise to see her in the gallery on my exes’ side at our first court date or each one after. Meeting after meeting, she’s been here. Flying in for depositions, playing the concerned mother role. When asked on the stand if I ever directly told her about their abuse, she said no. Did I ever express wanting out of my pack? Same answer. She told the judge about how troubled I’ve always been. How I’d never appreciated my pack’sgenerosity. How my friends brainwashed me as if I wasn’t a fully functioning adult the day I left.

And that contract?Why would I ever sign something legally binding for my adult daughter? That makes no sense.

And now here she is, wanting more of me like a vulture circling carrion.

“Do you want an escort to your car?” Sasha asks.

“I’m fine,” I say, ready for yet another confrontation.

Sasha leaves, glaring at my mother the whole time.

“Daphne, darling. You look…well.” Mother air kisses my cheeks, hands hovering over my shoulders without touching. Even that makes my body ache. Wanting her closer, needing her farther. Being an omega is such a mindfuck.