Page 118 of Claiming the Pack's Omega

“You can ask,” I murmur softly.

“What happened to your sister?”

The silence is heavy between us. It’s similar to the kind of silence that buzzes around me after a gunshot is fired when there was never supposed to be in the first place.

“You don’t have to tell me," she says, fidgeting with the comforter nervously. “It just… It just seems like it was weighing heavily on you earlier.”

“It was,” I sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

My sister and the abuse she faced was one of the biggest reasons I went into the police force. I wanted to help, wanted to make a difference in people’s lives. I wanted to serve and protect other omegas who may be stuck in similar positions to my sister.

But if I’m being completely honest, this whole undercover mission was one of the first few assignments I’ve done where I actually feel like I’m making a systemic difference. Sure, I’ve helped people, but because of the issues that’re so deeply rooted in Riverwell’s history, there are so many other people I can’t help.

“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to," she says softly. “Forget I said anything. I get not wanting to talk about shit like that.”

She makes a move to sit up from the bed and I gently wrap my hand around her wrist.

“Stay—” My voice cracks on the single word. “Please.”

Her eyes dart between mine, full of so many emotions I can’t even begin to read them, not when my head is already cloudy with the ghosts of my past.

“Okay," she says, laying so close to me I can feel the heat radiating off of her skin. She gets as close as she can to mewithout touching me, almost like she’s scared she’ll hurt me, so I settle for lacing our fingers together.

“My sister… she committed suicide when I was a teenager… she told us in her suicide note it was because her pack and bondmates were abusing her and I—” Fuck, what is wrong with my voice? It wasn’t like there was any damage to my vocal cords, so why the hell can’t I talk normally? “I found her body.”

“Holy shit,” Reyna breathes out. When I glance at her, her eyes are wide, and her free hand is covering her mouth as she holds in her gasp.

“Yeah. It—it was a terrible time. I spent weeks in the hospital by her bedside. She was brain-dead, but our parents couldn’t—they couldn’t let her go.”

“That’s why you hate hospitals," she says, squeezing my hand.

I start brushing small circles on the back of hers with my thumb.

“Exactly,” I sigh. “Hate the noises, hate the smell, I hate all of it.”

“I’m glad we could get you out of there, then. I—I can’t imagine what that would’ve felt like if you were just left there until the doctors wanted to discharge you.”

I turn to stare up at the ceiling, unable to look her in the eye right now. My jaw clenches as I try and keep myself from breaking down like she just did. I’m a man. I’m an alpha. I want to be a protector. I have to be strong.

“Y—yeah,” I say, my voice unsteady. “It’s why—it’s why it seriously means so much to me that you were willing to step up to take care of me, even if you didn’t have to, so I could get out.”

She reaches up with her free hand and scrubs it down her face. Her sigh sounds surprisingly similar to a growl.

“You’re just making me mad at Killian and Theo all over again,” she groans. “Seriously, how could they even think about leaving you there, knowing your past?”

I shrug my good shoulder.

“We’re all kind of like that, to be honest. We bury our own shit underneath mountains of work, stuff gets lost to the wayside.”

“Still, they’re your packmates.”

“I’m not saying it’s right, or that I like it, but I get it. If we stop working, it means our demons and ghosts can sink their claws into us again.”

“I guess that makes sense," she sighs.

I finally turn to face her again, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I do have to say, I like you being a bit angry on my behalf.”

“A bit angry? Oh I was pissed as fuck in the hospital, I’m pretty sure I could feel my heartbeat in my teeth.” She has an adorable crease between her brows as she relives the memory.