Page 15 of Claiming the Pack’s Omega (Riverwell Omegaverse #2)

Reyna

W hat the fuck am I going to tell my family?

How is a daughter supposed to tell her parents “ hey, I’ve actually been working as a prostitute for the past six years and there’s some nasty shit going down at work, so I’ve decided to sell my soul to this Northside pack!

It’s not all bad, though, ‘cause now you guys get a house! ”

I think this may be an original experience.

Dread fills my belly as I see the living room light on. My mom must’ve just gotten back from work.

“We’re here,” Killian says.

Killian Graylock. The youngest councilman in the city council’s history. I know this how? Because one of my clients wouldn’t stop talking about him.

That client happened to be the one who tossed a stack of loose bills on my naked body as I lay there, trying to catch my breath after he choked me. He hates Killian. From the sound of things and how obnoxious he was, he seemed to hate anyone with an ounce of competency in their veins.

God, what mess have I gotten myself into? They already want to rope me into their stupid lawsuit, what will they do when they realize I was the one that called that omega’s pack to come rescue her?

“Are you alright, Reyna?” Theo asks softly.

Looks like he hasn’t gotten the hint about me not wanting him to call me by my real name. Though to be honest, I think hearing anyone call me by my stage name would also send me down a spiral. I guess I’m having a bit of an identity crisis right now.

“Fine,” I grit out. “Just preparing to, you know, uproot my entire family’s life and tell them they’ve gotta pack up and leave.”

“Let us know if you need any help moving things,” Killian says from the front seat, his bright green eyes almost like beacons in the rear-view mirror. “We’ll give you space to tell them.”

“Thanks.” I let out a bitter huff of laughter. I dig through my bag and slide on a pair of sweatpants. Wouldn’t want to walk into the house without pants, considering what I’m going to tell my family tonight.

I stand and squeeze past Theo, whose hand comes and rests on my waist to steady me as I wrench open the van door.

I’m tempted to slap his hand away, but I don’t.

I tell myself it’s because I’m too tired to start another fight with him, but I know the real reason is because deep down, I’ve gotten used to the comfort his touch brings considering the peaceful past few weeks we’ve had.

I walk up to the front door, digging my keys out of my bag.

“Reyna?” My mom asks, coming into the living room from the kitchen, her brows drawn down in concern.

I bite my trembling lip the moment I see her. God, I feel like a little girl right now, coming to her mom for reassurance that everything will be okay.

But I know that’s not something my mom can give me right now, especially when she doesn’t know the severity of the situation.

“Is—Is everything alright?”

“Mom, I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to promise you won’t be mad.”

She reaches out and holds my hands in hers. Her skin is weathered and thin, probably from the dishes she washes at the diner when the busboys don’t do their job.

“You’ve always been such a good girl, Reyna. I’m sure nothing you tell me will make me mad.” She squeezes my hands. “But whatever’s got you all wound up right now sounds serious, should I go wake up your father? If you’ve gotten yourself into any trouble, we can help you.”

Normally, my automatic answer would be hell no, Dad needs his sleep, but tonight isn’t a normal night.

“Yeah, we should wake him up,” I sigh, my chin falling to my chest, but not before I catch the shock in Mom’s expression. She knows if I’m willing to wake up Dad that it must be pretty bad.

“O—Okay sweetie, I’ll go wake him up right now.”

I take the couple minutes of silence to soak in the living room.

The worn sofas we’ve all piled onto while watching movies together.

The old bookshelf that Daisy used to help her stand for the first time.

The pictures we have—without frames, because those are expensive—propped up on the mantle above the fireplace we never use.

Home.

A home I’m forcing us all to abandon.

“Rey-Rey, what’s wrong?” My dad asks from behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. His voice is gruff and thick with sleep.

The old nickname melts my heart.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, offering him a tight-lipped smile.

“Here, let’s all sit down,” My mom says, guiding us all to the couch. “Reyna, please tell us what’s wrong, we promise we won’t be mad.”

I take a deep breath, my gaze darting between my parents, their worried expressions still obvious in the dim light from the lamp in the corner.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it. But we have to leave. We’ve gotta wake up the kids, grab all the stuff we can, and get out of here. It’s not safe.”

Mom’s simple, beta, clean laundry scent twists with her fear, and she automatically reaches out to rest a hand on Dad’s thigh, for reassurance.

She knows that I wouldn’t ever say something like this unless I was dead serious.

My dad lets out a deep breath, leaning back against the back of the couch, his white t-shirt spread across his burly chest. That’s probably one of the few shirts he owns that doesn’t have permanent grease stains on it. Mom would never let him sleep in bed with something dirty.

“What kind of trouble are you saying we have to run from?” Dad asks, stroking his thick beard. His thunderstorm scent swirls around us, growing more intense. I’m pretty sure I got my unique petrichor scent from him.

I’m a genetic rarity, I guess. An omega born from an alpha-beta pairing is like one in a hundred. That on top of my uniquely not-so-sweet scent? That makes me weird.

I shake myself. My dad asked me a question, I’ve gotta stop daydreaming.

“I—I—” I cover my face with my hands. “I’ve been lying to you guys for the past six years.

I haven’t been working at a bar. I’ve been working at an underground fight club as a ring girl and—” My voice breaks and a deep-rooted shame twists low in my belly.

“And as a prostitute on the weekends for a club.”

Mom gasps, tears filling her eyes as she covers her mouth with her hands.

“Sweetie, I—I can’t believe—” Mom blinks furiously. “Was it—was it our finances?”

I have to clench my fists to keep myself from rubbing my eyes from the emotional exhaustion I feel bearing down on me. If I smudged my makeup now, I’d look more like a cheap whore than I already fucking feel right now.

“Something like that.” I settle for running a hand through my hair. “I can explain the whole story to you another time, but—but I stand by it, I guess. We never would’ve made it without the money I brought in.”

“That—that’s true, but god—” My mom fights back another sob, wiping away her tears.

“No buts, I had to find a job where I could work nights so I could help take care of the kids. Me getting a job at the diner or something would’ve meant Sav would’ve had to take care of the kids and that’s not fair to her, especially when she’s such a bright kid.”

Dad’s expression remains stormy, despite the cheap excuses and justifications I’m trying to give them.

“How could you?” He growls.

I flinch as if he’s slapped me.

“You were eighteen —” My dad’s voice breaks as he scrubs a hand down his face. “How could you!”

“Rick!” My mom hisses, jerking her head towards him. “Don’t—don’t talk to her like that!”

“She’s my baby girl, Angie! She may have been an adult in the eyes of the law, but she will always be my baby girl,” my dad snaps. “And we failed her! She never would’ve had to do that bullshit if we weren’t drowning!”

I feel out of place as they talk. Like a child. Just like how I felt listening in on their arguments about money as I was growing up.

“It—it’s isn’t your fault, Dad,” I whisper, my voice just as quiet and small as I feel right now.

“It is ,” he says. I’ve never seen him look as defeated as he does right now. “We’re your parents, it was our job to protect you, and we failed. You don’t need to defend us. We fucked up.”

I swallow the protests that are on the tip of my tongue. He’s not in the headspace to hear them. I don’t know if he ever will be, because there’s truth to his words.

“You were a bright kid too,” he says softly as he stares out the window. “You shouldn’t have had to throw all that away.”

“But I did,” I say, pushing back. “And it meant that our family didn’t fall apart.”

“But that was never your responsibility.”

“I had to do it, Dad—” My throat closes up. “There was no way in hell you and Mom would’ve been able to afford the cost of my suppressants. I couldn’t put that on you. I did what I had to.”

“And I hate that you had to,” he says, his shoulders deflating.

Our living room is silent, other than my mom’s occasional sniffles.

My dad leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“So is it a John giving you trouble? Threatening the family?”

I wince, taking a shaky breath.

“Worse. I—It’s a long fucking story, but I’ve pissed off an entire crime family, Dad.

There was this fighter at The Warehouse and then this client who saw me, and it turns out they’re both undercover Northsiders and I’m basically a traitor to the crime family I was working with because when they found out the fighter was an undercover Northside cop, they were going to kill him and I just gave his pack the location to go rescue him and now they’re going to want to kill me—” I bury my head in my hands. “Fuck, I’m just rambling.”

I hear Dad get up off the creaky couch and kneel down in front of me. His strong hands rest on my shoulders and god, I haven’t felt this small in years.

“Look at me, Rey-Rey,” he murmurs.

I look up into his fiery eyes. They’re normally the same stone-cold gray as mine. But now, they’re buzzing with anger.

”Fuck that crime family,” he growls. “They’re not getting their hands on anyone in our family. Including you. If we have to escape this God-forsaken city and go on the run, so fucking be it.”

I blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears I feel stinging at the backs of my eyes at bay.

“I—I haven’t finished,” I whisper. “That—that Northsider undercover cop has a pack and they’re—they’re offering us some sort of witness protection.”

“A Northside pack?” My mom asks, her brows drawn down in concern as she comes and sits beside me on the couch I’m on. She rests a hand on my knee that I can see is shaking a bit.

Fuck. My mom is normally a fearless, take-no-shit kind of woman, but I can see that this whole conversation is weighing heavy on her.

“Can—can we trust them? Considering you’re an unregistered omega?” My mom asks. “What’ll happen to you?”

My shoulders deflate and I stare down at the floor. That’s a question I don’t think they’ll like the answer to.

“They—they agreed to buy you guys a house in your name, and get Sav, Eli, and Daisy all into Northside schools. They even agreed to get you guys good protection in case people come after you?—”

“Reyna,” my dad interrupts.

Shit. He’s using my full name. I keep my eyes glued to the floor. I can’t look at him right now.

“That’s a lot about what you’ve arranged for us,” he growls. “What’s going to happen to you .”

I wince. “They—they want to court me, whatever the fuck that means,” I mutter under my breath.

My dad stands to his full height, his dominance swirling so thick around us it’s hard to breathe. He turns, heading straight to the door.

“Babe, where’re you going?” Mom asks, standing suddenly from the couch, worry obvious in every line in her body.

“Outside. To talk to the alpha pack that thinks they have a claim to our daughter,” He hisses.

“What? How did you know it was them?” I scramble to my feet.

“I saw their stupid expensive as fuck van from the window,” he huffs. “Now, the both of you, stay inside where it’s safe.”

He slams the door shut behind him.