Page 59 of Omega Forged (Hartlock Omegas #2)

It was hard to forget Hermes Mythos, the larger-than-life alpha who fathered Pan.

That was the thing about packs. There were children who didn’t all share the same father and mine was just as untalented in the arts as I was.

Somehow, Hermes’s legacy overshadowed everything else, even though he’d been dead for ten years. A heart attack.

“What’s Pan’s destiny?” Tully crossed her leg, and the shirt rode up her shapely thigh. My dad saw it and failed to cover his sneer.

“He’s going to return to work with his mentor, Kieran, and commit himself to his craft. The path he was on before he…” My mom wrinkled her nose.

Pan leaped from his chair and dragged his hands through his hair.

“Before I became a drug addict?” He growled at the ceiling, “Kieran was the one who gave me my first pill. Did you know that? Right now, the only thing I’m committed to is getting well and being worthy of my pack and you, Tully.”

My stomach dropped past the floor. His own teacher gave him drugs? I’d assumed he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd at PAMA. Tully made a soft noise, swallowed by the outraged shout my dad let out.

“Sit down,” he barked. “This isn’t how Mythos comport themselves.”

Pan trembled before he flung himself into the chair. He let out a panting gasp, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I’m a Baylark,” he spat. “I’m a…” Hartlock. His gaze blistered with heat, and Tully leaned back against me like she felt it buffeting to her.

“Kieran understands the struggles of being so talented and he’s willing to—”

“Did you not hear him?” Tully snapped, and her scent clouded my senses. Thick with anger. “He struggles with addiction and you want him to work with the Designated who introduced him to substances in the first place?”

My dad’s head swiveled, and his jaw dropped open before clicking shut.

“Excuse me?” My mom’s voice shook. “This isn’t your business.”

“It should be yours, but you don’t really care about him as an alpha, do you? Only what he can do for you.”

“I won’t be lectured by someone like you, ” my dad spat.

My insides turned into icicles. I laid my hand on Tully’s thigh.

“Speak your next words carefully,” I warned my parents.

Tully’s cheeks flushed, the only sign she was bothered.

“Someone with more name recognition than your family could ever dream of using for clout?” Tully said.

“We’ve all seen the news. The Mythos name has standards.”

Tully let out a laugh, strained with bitterness. She turned to me. “How did you grow up so sweet with such assholes for parents?”

“Neglect does wonders,” I joked.

My mom let out an embarrassed squawk. “Please, can’t we enjoy our visit? There’s no need to fight. Look, I bought gifts for you both. Go on, open it.”

She passed a rectangle wrapped one to me and as I held it numb creeped over my chest. The paper was thick, with navy velvet appliques and a matching ribbon.

I should have been pleased they remembered to bring me something, but I wasn’t.

Tully leaned her arm against mine. Was it by mistake, or was she offering me comfort?

Pan tore the paper on his and let out a soft noise. It was a framed piece of music, brown with age, and the ink faded.

“This is Tears of the Moon.” Pan swallowed hard.

I knew the song. He played it on his first PAMA performance.

“It’s an original. We thought it would help motivate you. One day, another prodigy will hold your music and feel the same way.”

Pan stared down at the priceless gift with a glum expression. For a moment, our gazes clashed, but he glanced away. I fingered the edge of the wrapping paper as Tully nudged me.

“Open yours,” she whispered.

I did as she asked, hating myself for the stab of anger that cut through me as the book was revealed.

“ 100 Ways to Lose Weight ?” Tully snatched up the book with trembling fingers and my mom nodded, oblivious to her outraged tone.

“We know you struggle with your discipline, Ajax. We thought this would help.” My dad patted his flat stomach, and I wanted to sink into the floor.

My cheeks went hot as Tully snatched the book and brandished it above her head.

“You got him.” She waved a dismissive hand at Pan.

“An expensive antique that should be in a museum. And you got Ajax this? What is your problem? Do you even know how incredible your eldest son is? He’s outgoing, driven, and successful.

His giant heart has so much love to give, and the way you treat him disgusts me. ”

“What are you talking about?” My mom circled her throat with trembling fingers.

“You heard me. You pour all your attention onto Pan and ignore Ajax, except to berate him.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest at her furious tirade.

“That’s quite enough.” My dad stood up, trying to use his alpha height to intimidate Tully into silence.

I stood at her back and glared at him over her shoulder. Pan unfolded from his chair and his hands curled like claws.

“It’s not worth it, Tully. Don’t do this for my sake.”

I’d long since given up trying to get my parents to see my worth. But having Tully defend me lit up a part of me that had been dormant.

“I already told you I won’t be lectured by someone like you.” Dad sniffed.

“Oh?” Tully’s eyes flashed. “You won’t care if I do this, then.” She tore the front cover off the book and tossed it on the ground.

Who was this omega, and when could I mark her?

I needed to feel her fury inside me like a blaze.

I’d never felt so alive seeing it reflected in her eyes.

She could turn me to ash and I’d die smiling.

My mom’s outraged shriek only emboldened her, and Tully ripped page after page, flinging it in their faces until my parents stood with gaping mouths.

My mom looked to Pan, bewildered, for support that didn’t come.

“Do something,” she urged, but he shook his head and crossed his arms.

He watched Tully with a look of pure adoration. “She’s doing what I wish I was brave enough to do.”

“You’re nothing but a slut and your parents would be disgraced.” My dad shook his finger, but it was gone in a flash, as was his voice.

Pan wrapped his hands around Dad’s throat until all he could manage was a wheeze. His cheeks flooded with forced color.

“Pan,” my mom cried out, clutching her designer bag to her chest like armor.

“You insult Tully in my presence again, and I’ll do worse than choke you out. Understand? Tully and Walden are my music. They’re the only reason I haven’t given up.” Pan shoved Dad back and shook out his hands with a grimace.

Like they were in pain.

“After the time and effort we poured into your lessons?” My dad rubbed his throat.

“You’ve never spoken to us like this before.” My mom’s lower lip wobbled as she stared at Pan.

Pan found me, and the space between us turned electric. “I should have done this a thousand times over for you. I’m sorry.”

My chest warmed even more as Tully slipped her fingers in mine. I squeezed three times.

“You want to know why I don’t play anymore?” Pan turned back to our parents. “I literally can’t. I’ve had broken hands for years.”

He held up his hands. Long, elegant fingers, covered in tattoos. What was he talking about ?

“Don’t be dramatic.” My dad snatched up his jacket with a scoff.

“It’s true. It’s called Focal Dystonia. Look it up. I’ll never play piano the way you want me to again, not because I don’t want to. Because I can’t.” Pan’s voice cracked.

He stared down at his tattoo peppered hands like they weren’t real, and the longing, frustration, and disgust made my stomach churn. I had no clue he was struggling at this level. I thought he was being petulant and rebellious.

“When you’re done having your tantrum, you can call and apologize.” My dad wrapped his arm around my mother, who dabbed at dry eyes.

They scurried to the elevator without another word. I thought my dad would argue more, but that wasn’t his style. He knew when to retreat and he was a master of optics.

“That was horrible,” Tully grimaced.

I squeezed her hand three times before letting go. I love you .

“Is that true? What did you call it, Focal D-dys…?”

“Focal Dystonia. It’s neurological, my brain doesn’t send the right messages to my muscles. It’s worse in my right hand and I don’t have the dexterity I need to play.”

“Pan. Why didn’t you tell us?” I whispered.

He looked away, his gaze traveling where we couldn’t follow.

“I thought you’d be pleased.” His lip curled like it was a joke. “Now I’ve lost the only thing our parents ever loved about me. The only thing I was truly good at.”

“That’s not—I would never,” I protested.

Pan clenched his hands and shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can we drop it?”

“Are your parents always like that?” Tully took his lead as she rubbed her forehead.

Pan cleared his throat. “They’re usually worse,” he said.

Silence was a taut string between us, and I didn’t know how to slice through the tension. It had been brewing for years. Pan had all their love, drowned in it, while I was banished to a desert. Is that why he kept his injury a secret?

“Why do you put up with it?” Tully folded her arms over her chest.

Pan winced and scrubbed the pain off his face with a small smile. “Blood is blood.”

Tully snorted before a haunted look hooded her gaze. “They’re right, though, my parents would be disappointed in me.”

My fingers curled ineffectually by my side. I wanted to comfort her. Pan shook his head and walked over to the dining table. He pulled over his journal and selected a marker.

“I know our pack is proud of you, if that means anything. Are you proud of yourself?”

Tully trailed after him, and my gaze zeroed in on the way the hem hit the back of her thighs. My groin tightened, and I jerked my eyes away. Not the time. Not the place. But damn, did I want to make love to her. She’d defended me, and it tasted as sweet as her luscious fig scent.

“What’s that?” Tully peered at the journal.

I wondered how long it would take her to notice. Four journals, and a communal pile of markers, stickers and tabs. Everything someone might need for a bullet journal.

“We started our own journals.”

“My therapist suggested keeping something similar, and I remember how much you loved yours.” Pan blew his fringe off his face and colored his mood tracker with a bright orange. Happy.

Tully reached out to finger the page, frowning at the myriad of dark colors. Sick, tired, sad, anxious, angry. I felt the echo of those emotions like a bubbling storm under my paper-thin skin.

“Bleak month,” she tried to joke.

“Everything is without you, angel.” Pan shut the journal with a sigh.

“It’s a way for us to feel close to you.” My warm breath hit the back of her neck.

She chewed her bottom lip and some of the uncertainty returned.

“Pan, your hands—” she tried. “Can you work with a therapist?”

“There is no point. I’ll never play like I used to and if I can’t have perfection, I don’t want it. Talk about something else.” Pan’s jaw clenched, and he added a whisper, “please.”

“Are you all ready for tomorrow?”

Tully wanted to do a livestream on her channel in response to the leaked pictures. Tully withdrew, taking her sunshine with her.

“I think I might take a bath in the nest. My head is still hurting.”

Her absence snapped inside me like a rubber band and I swallowed a grunt of pain.

One step forward. Two steps back.

I watched her go, my gut heavy with regret.

Pan dug his fingers into his forehead with a weary sigh. I rounded the table and pulled him into my arms. We hadn’t had the best relationship, and now I knew how long he’d been struggling on his own.

“What’s this for?” Pan muttered to my chest, even as his fingers wrapped around my back.

“We’re brothers, and we should be better to each other. You can come to me with anything, I hope you know that.”

“Back at you, bro.” Pan’s fingers held me tighter.

How many years had I resented Pan for something that was out of his control? Our parents drove a wedge between us and today, I tore it out.

A text message came through and I pulled away to read it.

Walden: Be ready in twenty. CJ agreed to meet us.