Page 12

REMI

Usually, I’m not the type to beg.

Even when I was younger, I tried to please my adoptive beta mother. I let her taunting and abusive words roll off my back like they were nothing.

Her words weren’t nothing.

Her words still haunt me today, even a decade later. I can hear her nasally voice tell me I’m not good enough and I never will be. I can vividly see her toss me to the side all the times I tried to get close to her and my adoptive beta father.

Until I showed them my designation, they always had nice things to say to me. However, the moment I showed as an omega, their treatment of me changed. I was no longer the beta daughter they adopted but an unwanted omega.

They didn’t know how to care for me. Of course, that was the excuse they used every time they had to ‘deal’ with me.

Because they did not want to deal with their unwanted omega daughter, they started treating me like I was an outcast within the family of betas.

My adoptive sister turned out to be a beta, just like my adoptive family.

She was the golden child, the one they ‘prayed’ for all those nights while going through the adoption process.

When I came into my designation, they had no more use for me. They didn’t want the intricacies that came with being an omega. My adoptive mother would always say there would never be a pack that would want me. No one would want me for who I am, only for what I could do for them.

That was the first brush of evil I came across.

Before I came into my designation, I was stick thin, and everyone thought I would show as a beta.

However, it’s as if the hormone gods looked down upon me.

When I entered my designation, I ballooned out and grew in many places that I didn’t want to.

My breasts, hips, and thighs—all of it became bigger.

It took me several years to overcome the mindset that I was not good enough. I am. I’m an attractive woman with more to love. I refuse to think that I’m worth anything less than what I deserve.

Sitting at the table, my fingers clutching tightly around the edge, the tablecloth-covered wood cool and solid under my palms, grounding me in this moment of overwhelming unease.

The room felt suffocating, the lingering silence pressing down on my chest like a weight I can’t shake.

My pulse quickens, each beat echoing in my ears louder than the absent voices around me.

I shift slightly, the chair creaking beneath me, a sharp reminder of my presence and my desire to fill the void with words that were clawing their way to the surface.

I want to say more, need to say more. Every fiber of my being screams for me to push past the tension and lay bare the truth of why I should be chosen. It wasn’t desperation—it was determination. I knew what I brought to the table, knew the depth of my worth.

But the memories of rejection, the echoes of dismissive words from my past, made me hesitate, tugging at the resolve I’d spent years building.

My throat tightens, a lump forming as I fight to keep my composure.

I swallow hard, steeling myself, knowing that if I don’t speak now, I might lose the chance forever.

I lean forward, my heart racing with the courage I summon.

Words dance on the edge of my tongue, ready to spill out in a cascade of conviction.

Yet, in the stillness of the room, my voice falters for a moment, imprisoned by the weight of judgment I have faced before.

But I won’t let it hold me back this time.

I won’t let their silence speak louder than my truth.

“You say I’m not part of the image you’re trying to portray. I say your image is whatever you make it. If you want to be a certain way, you choose to be that way. If you don’t, then you don’t. No one has a say over who you are except you.”

Knox falls back against his chair, staring straight at me. “It’s not that simple. Nothing is as simple as you say it is.”

“It actually is that simple, Mr. Hastings,” I say, reverting to formalities to distance myself. “You are who you choose to be. I will believe that until the day I die.”

He steeples his hands in front of him, leaning heavily on the table. He and I enter a staring contest. Neither one of us says anything; we merely study the other and see which one of us breaks first. I refuse to let it be me.

“Why are you pushing this? Yes, we had a fantastic time, but why would you push something on someone when they clearly don’t want it?”

Because I can see they do. It’s right there in their eyes and the way they carry themselves. They want me, just as I want them. They’re just too afraid to take that leap.

Also, they smell absolutely mouthwatering. Their combined scents remind me of my favorite smell in the entire world.

Home.

Their combined scent is that of clean linen and sunshine.

They smell like a spring day after a good rainstorm.

They are everything I am searching for in a pack, and I’m not keen on letting that go easily.

I don’t care if it makes me look pathetic fighting for a pack that doesn’t want me, even though they clearly do.

It’ll take a lot more than a few words to run me off.

The moment they stepped into this room, I knew. They were my scent match pack. Their aura of calming assuredness helped solidify that. I’m looking at the pack that fate designed for me, and I will fight tooth and nail for them to see that.

I’ve heard of this happening; an alpha not knowing the omega is theirs until they perfume. However, an omega can’t perfume on demand. They must have something considerable happen to them for it to happen. It’s the very reason I have not perfumed yet. Nothing has made me completely lose control.

I have a feeling, though, if I were to lose it and perfume, they would know I was theirs.

“Do you all not smell it?” I ask, flicking my eyes between the three of them. “Am I the only one?”

The one called Tripp shifts in his seat like he’s in pain. My eyes follow the movement, watching as he continues to move as if he can’t get comfortable.

He definitely senses something. I just know it.

But if he knows something is up, why isn’t he saying anything?

The one called Knox shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, no.”

Impossible.

A feeling of rightness clicked into place when I saw them right before they said those awful things. For the first time in such a long time, I feel like I belong. And with that feeling of rightness, I made my decision.

I straighten my spine. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be going to Select-A-Mate and telling them they made a mistake. They match based on personality and traits, and even I can tell they matched us perfectly. I don’t know why you all can’t see that, but I can.”

Knox looks frustrated for a moment. “You’re simply not what we’re looking for. Take that as is, and let’s end this.”

I don’t know where this fight came from all of a sudden, but I’m not going to take this as is. I’m going to fight.

I’m tired of being alone. And, now, when I’m faced with my scent match mates, I refuse to let that slip between my fingers. I will fight for what I want, and what I want are these three, regardless of who they are or what they’re looking for.

Call me selfish. Fine. I’m selfish. I refuse to give up the first thing in my life that belongs solely to me.

I gather my purse and rise to my feet. They all rise along with me, watching in confusion as I sling my purse over my shoulder. I give them a tight smile and reach into my purse. I pull out a sliver of paper and a pen. I jot down my phone number and then toss it onto the table.

“Here’s my number. When you come to your senses, use it.”

Without a backward glance, I leave the room. I can feel their eyes trailing after me the entire time, beaming into the back of my head. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, but I refuse to turn around and acknowledge them.

They said their peace, and I said mine.

I’ll wait for them to come to their senses, and when they do, we can move forward with this mating as initially planned.

I know I’m not the prettiest omega out there, but I’m sure as shit not the ugliest. I’m beautiful inside and out. It took me many years to get to where I am, and I won’t let a pack of alphas tell me otherwise.

I am worthy.

I’m worthy of everything I want.

I’m not a terrible person. I genuinely enjoy helping others and doing things for them. I enjoy putting myself out there, even though I risk rejection, like what happened just now.

The feeling of rejection is a cold void that tries to open up inside me. But try as I might, I can’t shut it out completely. I'm not going to lie; it hurt a lot when Knox rejected me just now. The pain of my scent match mates rejecting me is unlike any other pain I’ve ever felt in my life.

You expect the world to hurt you, but you don’t expect your reason for existence to disarm you completely.

Essentially, that is what happened. I was created to be theirs.

Only theirs. Yet, Knox cannot see past his need to win the race for Mayor of Cedar Hill.

That is what he is focusing on, rather than what is truly important.

Our mating is the most important thing, as it should be.

I push open the restaurant door with a confidence I barely feel, my chin tilted higher than usual, defying the ache gnawing at my chest. The hum of conversations and clinking of glasses fills the air, a symphony I try to lose myself in, pretending for a fleeting moment that this place doesn’t remind me of the void inside me.

My heels echo against the polished floor as heads turn discreetly to catch a glimpse of me.

I don’t care about their stolen glances; they're inconsequential compared to the sting that lingers on my skin, raw and unforgiving.