Page 12

12

Luca

Someone’s fucking with me if they think I’m just going to sit here and eat the cute little hashbrowns and perfect omelets with perfectly chopped peppers and perfect little bits of ground sausage and perfect—

A growl tears from my throat as I stare at my tray, hating absolutely everything on it. Nothing about my life is perfect. I couldn’t even sleep last night, tossing and turning on an empty mattress, unable to feel any tether to my mates. The silence nearly killed me as I wandered around my little room, hoping that something in there would distract me.

I even tried climbing onto a chair and pulling at the bars, crying out when I slipped and fell on my back. And that’s where I spent my night, on the cold floor, curled up in a ball, wishing that my life wasn’t so fucking hard.

Yesterday, I was scared. Today, I’m pissed. I’m still scared but the anger overrides everything else at the way soft laughter and quiet conversation spreads through the cafeteria, the way that the staff is trying to make all of this seem so normal.

Nola was the one to retrieve me and bring me in here, stating that I’d be introduced to some of the activities in here and then scent cards if I wanted that. Apparently, my words last night meant nothing to her. So, now I’m here, watching Omegas sit around the long wooden tables, chatting, smiling, eating their ridiculous, perfect foods, as if this place isn’t just another type of cage. The scent of warm butter and honey lingers in the air, wrapping around the room like a comfort I should want.

But it’s doing nothing for me.

I shift, rubbing at the side of my neck, expecting the familiar sting of my Alpha’s bond mark, but it’s not there. The salve they put on yesterday is doing exactly what it’s supposed to be doing but it’s driving me crazy. No amount of washing my neck and my face in the bathroom sink brought it back, either. I’m not sure what the ultimate goal is but I just want to go home.

The voices around me fade into background noise as my thoughts turn to what I overheard yesterday—the whispered conversation by the door, the casual mention of Hudson being a sponsor here. Of course, he is.

That means it’s only a matter of time. A matter of days, maybe even hours before Hudson finds himself in here, dragging me back into that godawful apartment while I suffer, unable to escape. He’ll never let me go a second time. I won’t be able to leave that house. There will be no shifts at the diner and he’ll expect my ass up every time he walks in the door.

The thought makes my stomach churn, my skin crawl. I push back from the table abruptly, the chair scraping against the tiled floor, drawing a few curious looks. I don’t say anything. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. Nola is glaring at me from across the room but honestly, fuck her. This whole place was marketed as a sanctuary for Omegas and it’s the complete opposite.

I don’t stop until I make it up to the room they’ve given me, all the pillows and blankets miraculously back on the bed, situated in the most horrid circle. Whoever put it back together definitely isn’t an Omega and while they tried their best, there’s now the faint scent of citrus in here that belongs to someone who isn’t my mates.

“Well, not sitting there anymore,” I tell myself, finding a little spot in the corner, one lone pillow devoid of any scents giving me comfort. I wish I still had that scarf Grayson had brought home from Luther. Instead, I have the lingering scents of my Alpha and Blake on my shirt, one that I refuse to change out of. There’s new clothes on the dresser but fuck that bullshit.

Anger swirls through my chest, my Omega telling me to right what’s wrong. It’s the first time I’ve felt anger rather than fear, rage instead of terror and leaning into it is glorious. It gives me a bit of strength and sanity to not completely fall apart in this place. I just have to figure out how to get back to Blake, to wrap myself up in him and never let him go.

A soft knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. A man steps inside, an older Beta, his presence calm but not imposing. He closes the door behind him gently, like he’s trying not to startle me, like he’s done this before. For some reason, I don’t feel immediately threatened but that doesn’t mean I’m not on guard.

I lift my head slightly, my voice rough, tired. “What do you want?”

The Beta leans against the dresser, watching me carefully but not intrusively.

I shift, rubbing at my wrist, my body still curled in on itself. “Let me guess. You came to tell me that all I need to do is stop worrying and everything will work itself out? That I need to return to the cafeteria and finish my food? Or maybe you have a billion activities I can partake in like those fucking scent cards to find me a new, posh pack?”

Oh. Oh. Removing the tether of my bonds has reverted me back to the Omega I was before I ever had them, before I met Hudson, when it was just me and Blake against the world. I was a bratty little shit, unattached, and even when I presented—terrified as I was—I was still a lot. And now everyone in this place is about to see just how much of a handful I can be. Well, great.

The Beta exhales a long, weighted sigh. He doesn’t speak right away, just drags a chair up to the dresser and lowers himself into it with the kind of ease that says he’s done this before. The scrape of the chair legs against the floor makes me flinch, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he does and just doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he watches me, taking in the way I’ve curled in on myself, pressed into the corner of the room like I can disappear into the wall if I try hard enough.

“I’m Wilson,” he finally says. “And I’d be lying to you if I tried to give you the same speech everyone else does. Omegas that come through here are rarely ever new, bright-eyed individuals in search of their first pack. Many of the ones here were broken or discarded in some way, very few in situations like yours.”

I narrow my gaze at him, waiting for the catch but there doesn’t seem to be one.

“This is all routine,” he continues. “I have to log the information. Then I leave you alone and you get to experience life here outside of a pack. Whatever comes after that is a mixture of your choice and whatever the center thinks is best.”

I snort, shaking my head as I shift against the one stiff pillow with me. “I won’t be here long. My Alpha—my mates will come get me. I’m happily bonded and that won’t change with whatever the nurses gave me to erase them. ”

Wilson nods slowly, completely unfazed. “And who is your Alpha?”

I don’t hesitate. “Luther and Grayson.”

Wilson hums, crossing one leg over the other, settling into a more relaxed position. The tension in my body doesn’t ease, but something about the way he carries himself makes me loosen my fingers from where they were digging into the pillow. Like he’s not here to fight me. Like he’s not here to convince me that I belong here. “I’ve read a lot of files over the years,” he says casually, like it’s just a passing thought. “But yours is one of the most complicated I’ve seen.”

I frown, sitting up a little. “I have a file? I’ve only been here for a day. Not even a full one.”

He exhales through his nose, like he’s weighing how much he wants to tell me. “That’s what makes it so interesting. I only just managed to get a look at it before the head of the center locked it away.”

I shift again, pulling my knees to my chest, my voice softer than before. “Why would they do that?”

“Your case isn’t exactly… standard. From what I gathered, there’s a domestic dispute and someone thought it would be better if you were removed altogether, despite the Alphas you would prefer being with. Typically, Omegas brought into the center from situations like this have a few options. They can stay here until they find a new Alpha or return to their parents.”

I scrunch up my nose, shaking my head before he even finishes. “I’m not going back there.”

Wilson doesn’t look surprised.

“My parents,” I continue, my voice thick with frustration, “all but sold me to the very Alpha that started this whole mess. Going back to them isn’t an option.” It’s the same words I said to Nola but there’s such a difference in the way Wilson digests that information.

He nods with understanding, his smile softening even further. It’s like he’s here to truly help me, to listen to me in a way that Nola wasn’t. Maybe it’s a tactic that Hearthstone uses but it doesn’t feel like that.

I rub at my eyes, exhaustion creeping in at the edges of my mind. “I just want to go home,” I say, and fuck, I hate how broken it sounds. I swallow past the tightness in my throat, but the words still come out raw. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t have just stayed where I was. With my pack.”

Wilson exhales, giving me a small, almost sad smile. “My heart breaks for you, Luca. The choices you have aren’t great.”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking my head. “Great?” I echo, my voice bitter, sharp. A mixture of panic and rage bubbles up into another laugh as I stretch out my legs, my hands fisting in my lap. “Hudson, my ex-Alpha, is a fucking sponsor of this place. Do you even understand what that means?”

Wilson doesn’t say a word but he raises one of his brows in silent question.

“He has access to me. The guy who did this—” My hand shakes as I yank down my collar, exposing the jagged ruins of my skin, the scarred-over mess Hudson left behind.

Wilson lets out a low whistle, his eyes narrowing slightly, gaze sweeping over the evidence carved into my neck. None of this makes any sense. Nola’s conversation with me was warranted, her own twisted way of calming an erratic Omega but Wilson should be having this moment in an office or the nurse’s station. It shouldn’t be in my room, this Beta relaxed and yet concerned.

He’s studying me, searching for something and I’m not sure I have anything to give. He runs his tongue along his top teeth before blowing out a heavy breath and sitting forward, meeting my gaze straight on. “What would you give up to protect your pack, yourself, and your future?”

I don’t even have to think about it. All I’ve ever wanted was my own fucking happy ending without Hudson, without my parents, without anyone else trying to creep into my life and take over my world. “Everything.”

Wilson nods, like he was expecting that answer, like it only confirms whatever twisted thought process led him to this conversation in the first place. His whole demeanor softens, but it’s not comforting. It’s worse. Because pity never means good things.

“There’s another option,” he says carefully. “I wouldn’t mention it if I hadn’t seen your file.” Wilson’s gaze flickers to my neck, his eyes lingering a little too long. Then he nods toward the mark, the jagged, ruined skin where Hudson’s claim still sits like a brand I can never scrub off. “As long as Hudson has a claim on you, you’ll never really be allowed back into the Keller house. Not without fighting Hudson in some way, every goddamn day.”

I’ve known that but there’s nothing I can do about it.

“It’s a strange situation,” Wilson continues, “But with the pull Hudson has, with the connections he has, getting him dismissed from your life entirely is going to be nearly impossible.”

I swallow hard, trying to push past the sharp ache in my chest. My voice doesn’t sound like mine when I finally manage to speak. “What is the third option?” Wilson tilts his head, the Beta mulling around for an answer but I’m fed up with all of this. “Just tell me. You’re scaring me.”

“The third option is removing that bite.”

I knew it was possible. In the darkest corners of my mind, I’d thought about it, about what it would take, about whether it was worth the risk. Hell, I tried digging it out so many goddamn times, bleeding all out on the floor, still tethered to that man. But hearing Wilson say it so plainly, like it’s just another option on the table, like it’s just a fucking decision I can make—

I shake my head, barely aware that I’m doing it, my breath coming in short pants. “Removing a bite is illegal and dangerous.”

“Not if it’s done the right way. Not if you have someone who knows what they’re doing.”

This man is giving me an out I never truly gave weight to before. Highly illegal if not court sanctioned and yet… a freedom I would never get anywhere else. I stare at him, my pulse hammering so hard I can feel it in my teeth. My hand flies up instinctively, slapping over the jagged scar burned into my skin, fingers pressing hard against the ruined flesh like I can protect it—like I can stop it from being real just by holding it in place.

The mark throbs beneath my palm, almost like it knows we’re talking about it, like it can hear what Wilson just said. My mouth is dry when I finally manage to choke out, “That requires a court order and Hudson would never allow that.”

Wilson laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. It’s rough, knowing, completely fucking humorless. “Luca,” he muses. “What I’m suggesting? This option I’m giving you? It would never be approved by a court. Hell, it wouldn’t be approved by anyone.” Wilson’s eyes flicker toward my hand, toward the ugly scar hidden beneath it. “It could kill you. But if you survive?” He leans forward slightly, his fingers tapping once against his knee. “You’d be free of him.”

A world where Hudson isn’t attached to me anymore.

A world where I don’t feel him lingering in my head, his presence weighing down on my instincts, his bite pulling at me even when he’s not in the fucking room.

Because that’s the worst part, isn’t it?

It’s not just that Hudson is obsessed, controlling, cruel.

It’s that he’s in me.

A ghost living under my skin, whispering in the back of my mind, tainting everything I love with the reminder that I was his first. Removing the bite would mean I was only tethered to Hudson by marriage. And marriage? That’s just paperwork. Marriage can be broken.

I swallow hard, my throat tight, my fingers still pressing hard against my neck. “But if it’s not legal,” I murmur, forcing myself to meet Wilson’s calm, unreadable expression. “What’s stopping them from throwing me in jail after?”

The silence tells me everything I need to know. A procedure this risky, this illegal, wouldn’t just put me at risk. It could throw away everything I’ve worked so damn hard for. And yet, the possibility of not carrying Hudson around in my head anymore, of never having to feel the weight of his claim, of my bond with the Keller pack no longer being tainted by him in any way… it’s alluring.

“If I did it,” I say, choosing my words wisely. “What would it take?”

“You’d need someone willing to do it off the books.”

I nod once, my hands shaking. “And the risk?”

Wilson’s expression turns grim. “The risk is that if it goes wrong, you don’t walk away from it.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, worn piece of paper, something creased from being folded too many times. He holds it between two fingers, extending it toward me like it’s nothing, like it isn’t the most important fucking thing anyone has ever handed me.

I hesitate before standing up and crossing the room to take it, my fingers brushing against his as I unfold the paper. There’s nothing fancy about it. No name, no address—just a single phone number.

“Call the number,” he says. “Tell them you’re looking for the doctor. Tell him what you need and he’ll give you directions after that.”

I stare down at the number, my stomach twisting, my instincts screaming that this is fucking dangerous. That this is crossing a line I can’t come back from. I look back up at him, frowning. “All of this is really shady.”

Wilson snorts, shaking his head. “Of course, it is.” He tilts his head, watching me carefully. “Sometimes, you have to break the law to fix things.”

I exhale through my nose, gripping the paper a little tighter. This isn’t just breaking the law. This is obliterating it. This is an illegal bite removal, an unapproved, highly dangerous procedure that could leave me permanently damaged, or worse—dead. “Why are you helping me?” I finally ask.

Wilson exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw before settling back against the chair. “Because I’ve seen that look in your eyes before. I’ve watched Omegas break and fall apart under the guise that it’s justice, or protection, or whatever bullshit Hearthstone is stuffing down our throats these days. This place,” he says, motioning around the room. “Hearthstone does a lot of good. There are people here who need it. People who would be dead or worse without it. But for all the good it does, there’s still a lot of evil.”

I glance back down at the number, my fingers tracing the ink, memorizing the numbers without even thinking about it. Wilson nods at it. “Memorize it. Then shred that piece of paper.”

I press the paper against my palm, forcing myself to focus. “And if I call him? What then?”

Wilson sighs. “He’ll ask something of you.”

I glance back up, eyes narrowing. “Like what?”

Wilson shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s never free. But if you want this enough, it won’t matter what it is.”

I wet my lips, forcing myself to ask the next question, the one that’s been eating at me since he handed me the number. “How am I even supposed to get there?” I shake my head, gesturing vaguely around the room. “There are bars on the windows. All the doors are guarded.”

Wilson stands, stretching like this conversation hasn’t just completely changed my life. He walks toward the door, resting a hand on the knob before glancing over his shoulder. “The doctor’s office isn’t.” Then he opens the door and walks out. Leaving me with nothing but the number in my palm and the knowledge that I just agreed to do something I can never undo.