Page 8 of Pretty When She Breaks

They’d put Brian against Dare, our most savage feral. The resulting images I’d seen on the screens had made me very glad I hadn’t eaten much this evening.

I didn’t evenlikeBrian, but no one deserved to die like that.

Except, perhaps, my father.

When my stomach settled, I went back to my dressing room on shaky legs and changed my shoes. I finished the closing routine and locked up, eager to be home.

When I arrived at my villa, I changed into loose, comfy clothes. It was such a relief to be out of my show dress and away from everyone’s watchful eyes.

I cleaned off my makeup, revelling in the sensation of a fresh face, and dove into the blankets on the couch. I didn’tever feel safe enough to properly nest here, but I allowed myself to fuss with the fluffy pile until I was comfortable. Muppet, my rescue cat, jumped up and started kneading my feet, and I gave him head scratches for a few minutes, murmuring nonsense affections to him.

He needed the encouragement; he was a bit insecure.

Eventually, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I tucked my legs underneath me—sending Muppet scurrying away in a frightened tizzy—and pulled out the coaster I’d left with Prince Lucas’s pack. I chewed on my lip as I transferred it to my laptop, then I put on my headphones and settled in to listen as Muppet crept back onto the couch.

The first part of their conversation was mundane, complaining about the moving company and settling into their apartment. I heard Prince get up to leave, and a little while later, I bit my lip as I heard the sharp crack of my hand hitting his face.

Yikes.

That sounded painful.

I paused the playback and rewound it so I could listen to it again, a smile tugging on my lips.

That had been a long time coming.

“You wanna know a secret?” I told Muppet, scratching his head. He started kneading my legs again, his purr rumbling in his chest. “I’m not sorry. He totally deserved it.”

I mean, I was probably going to be sorry tomorrow, when my father got his hands on me. But until then, I would enjoy my little victory.

I rewound it so I could listen again, and again.

It was proof that I still had some fight left in me. That my father hadn’t succeeded in making me a hollow shell.

I could still feel the spark, the little fire of anger burninginside of me.

I hadn’t felt this alive in years.

“I’m still a fighter,” I told Muppet, and he gave a littlemrewof agreement as he moved to a better chin-scratching angle.

I took a breath and pressed play, ready to listen to the rest of the recording.

Dax had laughed, and Madison had given an amused snort. Leather creaked as Prince took his seat again.

“Shit, she got you good, Princess.” Dax chuckled.

“Fuck off,” Prince said, his voice sullen. “You know omegas are fucking crazy.”

“That just makes them more fun,” mused a deep voice that I figured was Madison’s.

“What did you do to piss her off?” Dax asked.

“I told her that her brother sucked my dick.” Prince's voice had lifted a bit in amusement.

“You didn’t.” Anger pulsed in Dax’s voice immediately.

“Relax, it was just a joke,” Prince said, his sullen tone returning. “She wasn’t supposed to take it seriously.”

Dax snorted. “Idiot. I’d say you got off easy.”