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Chapter 3

Jolly Old Saint Celia

Ecker

I t’s times like this that I wish I smoked. But premature aging isn’t really my thing.

Though the events of the past forty-eight hours have probably had the same effect as smoking a pack a day for ten years.

I rest my head against the brick building and look up at the passing clouds. I imagine a puff of smoke joining them in the bleak gray sky. There’s a light breeze and it makes the rusty swing set in front of me creak.

We’re at a decrepit, abandoned school. Doc has set up a mostly-sterile operating theater in one of the old science classrooms and is doing his damnedest to save Sinclair’s grandmother. Titus hasn’t left her side.

I can’t believe they went after an old lady—scratch that, I know the Echelon is capable of any number of heinous acts, no matter how low or heartless. Their depravity knows no bounds.

Experiencing Sinclair’s pain through the bond was the most excruciating thing I’ve ever felt. I take comfort when I feel a sense of solace coming from her now. Bishop is doing a good job taking care of our mate—not that I ever doubted him for a second.

The door beside me opens, and I immediately tense, involuntarily bracing for bad news. Expecting Titus, I’m surprised when it’s Sinclair’s mother who steps outside. Once I see who it is, I refocus on the sky as if I can completely ignore her presence.

“My name is Celia.” Even her voice shares an uncanny similarity to Sinclair’s, only raspier.

“I don’t care if your name is fucking Santa Claus.” Anger simmers right below my skin. I clench my teeth together hard and exhale shakily through my nose. My emotions are too damn raw to deal with this shit right now.

“I—”

I cut her off instantly. “Do you know what she went through? Do you have any fucking clue the hell she lived through because of you? ” My voice shakes with rage. “That pissant cocksucker of a pimp branded her like cattle, then sold her off like a piece of meat—” My tirade comes to an abrupt halt as I complete that train of thought in my head.

He sold her off like a piece of meat to us.

We were the monsters waiting for her on the other side of that deal.

When he put the white-hot collar to her skin, did she scream just as loud as she did during the ceremony? When we, too, branded her, body and soul?

And the worst part is, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

I can’t imagine our pack with any other omega. Sometimes, I wonder how we even got this far without her.

“I know I will never make up for all the ways I’ve let her down, but you have to believe me—”

“I don’t have to believe a word you say.” I know I’m projecting the anger I feel at myself, but I don’t care. It feels too good to have someone else to blame for once.

“Fine, then just listen to my lies. ” She has the same bite as her daughter, and I have to hide my smirk. “If I thought for one second that they would take her, I would have been back here in a heartbeat.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “What did you think was going to happen when you ran off to play dead?”

“I thought my debt was paid!” Turns out, she also has her daughter’s quick fuse. “And I didn’t play dead. Bastard thought he actually killed me.” She huffs and crosses her arms.

I turn my head to look at her, and her glare is so chillingly similar to Sin’s, it’s hard to believe this isn’t the woman who raised her.

“You really didn’t know?” I ask skeptically. From what Sinclair’s told me, her mother didn’t— doesn’t ?—have a maternal bone in her body, so I’m not inclined to believe her claim she would have come running back to save her daughter. Granted, leaving your kid with a sadistic trafficker is far from missing a birthday.

“I know my word means nothing to you, but I swear I didn’t.” Her remorse sounds genuine. “I thought—”

The door bursts open, nearly clipping her shoulder, and she jerks out of the way. A bleary-eyed Titus hangs in the doorway, hand still clutching the door handle. I don’t know how long he was holding Sinclair, but putting himself through that alpha aversion has him looking like he went nine rounds with a bear hyped up on PCP after not sleeping for three days.

“He’s done,” he says, lightly out of breath like he ran to tell us.

My heart jumps. “ And? ”

The most uncommon smile turns the corner of his lips. “And she’s out of the woods.”

“Oh, thank god.” Celia exhales heartily and clutches her chest.

I shake my head at him in disbelief and exclaim, high with relief at the impossible, “I could just kiss you!”

“Don’t even think—”

“Too bad, brother.” I laugh and grab his face, pressing a loud and exaggerated kiss to his cheek. I pull away when his phone begins vibrating in his pocket.

“It’s Griffin,” he says, reading the incoming call.

“Answer it,” I encourage with a rush of nerves. Before we left, Bishop asked the Beryll alpha to keep us updated on any news regarding the Cyan’s death. Titus answers and holds it to his ear. I nudge him “Speaker, speaker.”

“Hey, it’s Titus and Ecker,” Titus says.

“It was suicide,” Griffin informs us through speakerphone. “He hung himself.”