Page 79 of In Deep

“That’s OK.”

He reaches towards my throat, capturing my chain on his fingers, examining the pair of crossed oars, frowning. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Then on your knees,” he says, dropping the chain, the charm knocking against my collarbone.

Eyes locked on his, I drop slowly onto the soft carpet of the nest. I want to lie down, bury myself in the layers of softness, run my palm over the fabrics. But I keep my body rigid and my eyes on him.

He walks around me, coming to tower behind me, his presence overwhelming. He takes a handful of my hair and twists it to one side, revealing the gland throbbing in the back of my neck. Lightly, he wraps his hand around my throat and skims his thumb across the tissue-thin skin.

“When you go into heat, little Omega, we’ll bring you down here and rut you together as a pack. One pack servicing their omega through her heat. All of us together. It has to be all of us.”

He presses his thumb against my gland.

Suddenly, a stab of panic hits my gut and radiates up through my chest to my throat.

I can’t breathe.

He’s right. I can’t be what he needs. I can’t be what any of them needs. I’m broken. Unworthy.

And he knows it. He’s always known it right from the start.

That’s why he brought me down here. To taunt me. To rub it in my face.

A nest. A nest for an omega in heat.

Something I’ll never be.

Perhaps he senses my hesitation in the way my body stiffens because his grip loosens, falling away, and he steps back.

“I can’t,” I say, dropping forward onto my hands. “I can’t.”

“I know,” he whispers.

I stay there panting, trying to catch some air, his own breaths heavy behind me. And then I scramble to my feet. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, my face wet, as I stumble to the stairs.

He was right. I can never be one of the pack.

Chapter 24

Iwalk back into town along the same streets the bus passed only an hour earlier. The sun has vanished now, hidden behind buildings that no longer glow, but loom like sinister shadows. The pavement beneath my feet darkens, colour leaching from the world, and I feel the tears on my cheeks.

I wanted it. I wanted it so badly. To be a part of them. To be a part of their world. To be wedged in the middle of their pack, safe and loved.

But I never really belonged. Instead, I’ve become what I always feared. The thing I always fought to avoid. A toy. A plaything. Something that’s easily discarded once the owners are bored.

Perhaps it’s for the best. Seb has forced my hand. Brought this to a halt. Prevented it from lingering on.

Now we all know where we stand. We have our answers. I am not the omega for Seb. So I am not the omega forThe Crew.

I meander along the road as it darkens further until, finally, I find myself back at my tiny, empty room. I climb into the bed, curling up into a ball, and I lie there, not moving, as evening becomes night, night becomes morning, and morning matures into day. My phone beeps and rings from somewhere on the floor, but eventually, it must run out of battery and falls silent. At midday, Sophia bangs on my door, her voice full of concern. I don’t move. I don’t answer.

The alphas don’t come. They must know by now. They must know it’s all useless.

I don’t move for twenty-four hours, and then the sun rises on the second day, bright and demanding, and I force myself up.

I won’t wallow in my own pity any longer. I fought to get here. I’m not going to throw it all away.