Page 184 of Claiming the Pack's Omega

Her voice breaks, and her head falls to her chest.

"Rape her," Milo croaks, his voice still gravely. He cuts his gaze to me, his amber eyes intense. "He wanted to rape her so you'd see."

My blood runs cold. The world around me slows. It fades away, so the only thing that exists is this balcony, with one spotlight above us and the other spotlight over my fucking family. Over my violent rapist of a brother.

"That motherfucker," Stone growls, his hands clenched into fists by his side.

"I'm going to kill him," Theo snarls.

"Milo fought the bark. It was impressive as hell," Reyna says, smiling at Milo. "He snapped out of it by head-butting Max, pretty sure that fucker's nose is broken. He tried to get me to run, but I came back when I heard that scream, slammed a pot over Max's head, and kicked him off of Milo."

She wipes her free hand on her dress, like she's trying to wipe away the grime of this conversation.

"And that's what happened," she says, glancing warily over her shoulder at me.

I run my hand up the bare skin of her arm, reminding myself that she's fine. That she's safe, in my arms right now.

Then I stand.

I nod at Theo, who quickly shifts so he's sitting beside Reyna, offering her his physical presence for comfort. Traumatic experiences like this can fuck with an omega's health. That's the last thing we want, considering all she's already been through.

"Thank you, Reyna," I say.

My voice sounds strange, like I'm listening to a recording of myself speaking. The world around me doesn't feel real.

Stone opens his mouth as I pass him. "Where are you?—"

I stalk towards my brother like I'm stalking my prey. He's still sprawled on his ass, surrounded by our parents and that bitch of a date he brought, I'm sure more for show than anything. Even though his nose looks broken, there isn't nearly enough damage to warrant the amount of whining that's coming out of his fucking mouth right now.

I'm going to change that.

He flashes me a lazy grin as I tower above him.

"Killian! Apologize now, look what that stupid Southside whore and that wimpy alpha did to your brother!" My mother snaps, running her hands through Maximus's hair as she stands behind him.

"Fuck off," I spit, my lips curling up into a snarl.

My mother looks like I just slapped her. I've never spoken to her that way. Ever.

There's a first time for everything.

"Don't you dare speak to your mother that way," My dad yells, narrowing his eyes at me. "We are your parents!"

"If you both still choose to stand behind a violent rapist, then you're no parents of mine," I say, returning their glares with one of my own.

It's funny. I've spent years using this look to bend people to my will in every single business meeting I've ever done. It was always modeled after the glares my parents would shoot at me, when I supposedly fucked up. I guess I've gotten good at making that look my own, based on the way they flinch under my gaze.

But still, the two of them continue to stand behind Maximus.

Figures.

"He's not a rapist!" Angie says, jumping to my brother's defense, her shrill voice instantly making my headache worse. "You think he'd even touch a Southside bitch like her with a ten-foot pole? She's—she's ugly!"

I ignore her, my sharp glare cutting down to my brother.

"I think you're just jealous I got to her first, little brother," Maximus sneers.

Angie lets out a horrified gasp of surprise. "You—you had sex with her!?" She screeches.