Page 42 of Want It All

I stared at the laptop screen, watching the videos for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

Do you know why you’re here? the APF psychologist asked, her voice made high by the small speakers.

Because I hurt someone , the dark-haired boy answered.

And why did you hurt him?

The boy’s shoulders bowed. Because he killed my sister .

He wasn’t a boy, not really, but at barely twenty, he wasn’t quite a man, either. The signs of grief were evident in his heavy eyes and tightly wound body. The skin over his knuckles was broken and red, occasionally weeping; he absently wiped up the blood with the bottom of his black shirt.

The boy in the videos hadn’t quite grown into his body, his limbs long and gangly. His hair was shorter, too, shaved at the back and sides. But the sense of power was there, an echo of the alpha Byron would become.

I closed the video and clicked into an article, one I’d already read, and already cried over.

Omega Killed by Drunk Alpha in Horrific Crash in Canberra’s South , the title said.

I didn’t read it again, just stared at the screen until the text became a grey blur.

‘Rose?’

I looked up, my cheeks wet with tears once more.

Sebastian crossed to my side. I was in his bedroom; Tristan had carried me from the nest. The nest wasn’t the right place for what he’d told me – or what he’d shown me.

I shivered.

I didn’t think I’d gone into proper rejection shock, not really.

I wasn’t feeling good , but I was functioning, and my body was gradually warming.

Tristan’s confession hadn’t helped; Sebastian had put me in the bath afterwards, getting in with me and wrapping his arms around my body until I stopped trembling.

I didn’t want to believe that Tristan had used me in such a way, but he’d told me with an even voice and a level expression, with no attempt to hide details or shrink away from what he’d done, and my instincts told me it was the truth.

He’d deliberately pit my designation and my body against me to bolster his chances of membership with the Revels, putting me in danger – in public – and using Sebastian to do so.

The fact he’d hired extra security alphas made no difference to me – it was the intent behind his actions that hurt, and the manipulation.

I could hardly credit it. Sebastian didn’t need his alpha’s help to get the Banksia Prize; he’d get it on his own account.

If I didn’t beat him to it , my snarky, competitive side interjected.

But in an odd way, I could also see things from Tristan’s point of view: Sebastian had been his entire life for six years, and the Banksia Prize was Sebastian’s dearest wish.

Were I in Tristan’s place, I’d probably do some questionable things to help him get it, too.

But I could barely digest Tristan’s confession in the face of what I’d learned about Byron.

I’d been curious about the monitors; who wouldn’t be? I’d known it could be bad. I’d been told about what happened to alphas when their instincts took over.

But I’d never really thought about why it could happen, about what could have sent Byron into such a state that he’d succumb to the alpha beneath his skin.

I clicked into a different video.

In this one, Byron was wearing a suit, sitting on one side of a long table next to a fair-haired man I knew now to be his liaison officer, Dr. Ford. Beside them were two women, Byron’s lawyers.

Trials involving instinct blackout didn’t happen in the usual way, I’d learned. There was no prosecution, no judge to arbitrate, no jury; just the alpha in question, their representatives, and senior members from the APF.

The injured alpha refuses to give evidence, one of the APF officers said, sitting unerringly still in her distinctive black uniform.

But he needs to , Byron answered, his voice desperate. I assaulted him .

The other APF officer shook his head. That’s not the way this works , he said gently. But what we can recommend –

I stopped the video and clicked into another document.

This one was long; I’d still read it twice. It was wrong to do so, but once I’d started, I couldn’t stop. It was Byron’s own journal entries, at least one for every day he’d been in the state-mandated Alpha Retreat.

Fuck, I miss her so much today, he’d written.

The date indicated that he’d been in the facility for just over one month.

Sometimes, this still feels like a nightmare.

Like I’ll wake in my own bed and stumble to the kitchen, and there she’ll be, blowing on her coffee and stuffing her face with raisin toast.

Sometimes, I feel guilt for what I’ve done. Sometimes, I wish Dad had never stopped me, that I’d –

I took a deep breath.

Sebastian wrapped his arms around me. I settled back against him, letting my tears fall freely. ‘How did this get so complicated?’ I croaked.

He kissed the tears from my neck. ‘The truth can be like that.’

‘I understand why Byron left the room that night, and why he’s kept his distance, but understanding doesn’t take away the hurt. And Tristan …’ I trailed off. ‘I’m so angry, Seb.’

‘You have every right to be.’

I twisted in his arms, looking up at him. ‘ You hid it from me, too.’

He didn’t turn away, looking me in the eye when he answered. ‘Yes. I didn’t see a reason to hurt you with it. But I will never hide anything from you again, Rose. I promise you.’

I sniffed. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

He pulled me close. ‘You don’t have to do anything right now. Just let yourself feel it.’

I turned back to the laptop, clicking into the last video. It wasn’t as clear as the others; it had come from a home security feed.

Come out, you fucking coward , the dark-haired boy shouted, striding across the front lawn of a suburban home. Come out and look me in the eye .

Nothing stirred.

Come out , Byron roared, and this time, the sound was carried by his alpha bark. Even second-hand, my spine straightened without me telling it to; behind me, Sebastian tensed.

The front door opened and a sandy-haired alpha stumbled out, clearly against his will.

Byron wasted no time, dragging the man down onto the grass.

I winced as his fist connected with the other alpha’s cheekbone.

You killed her , Byron said, calmer now.

He pulled back, then let his fist fly again, this time straight into the sandy-haired alpha’s nose. You killed my sister .

I closed my eyes as the sound of fists on flesh continued, keeping them closed until Byron’s voice came again. Get up , he barked. Get up. I’m not even close to finished with you.

Somehow, the other alpha got to his feet.

His body looked wrong; all kinds of noises came from his limbs as he straightened them beneath the force of Byron’s bark.

The alpha’s packmates stood on the verandah, watching, but they made no move to intervene.

Numbly, I wondered why; Byron was one boy in the face of four grown men.

Had the sandy-haired alpha made a terrible, tragic mistake? Had he not realised how much he’d drunk when he’d scented Byron’s sister – Christina – and convinced her to go home with him before he’d lost control of his car? Or was drink driving something he’d done before?

And either way, did his pack think he deserved the justice Byron was offering? Was that why they made no move to help?

I held my breath at the thud of Byron’s fists meeting flesh once more, then exhaled when another man sprinted across the lawn, throwing his arms around Byron and putting his own body between the two alphas.

No, no, no, Carwyn Griffiths pleaded, his glasses askew, his black hair in disarray. Stop, B. You’ll kill him, and we can’t lose you too. We can’t.

I shut the laptop with a click and burrowed into Sebastian’s arms.

I didn’t sleep – how could I? – but I did think.

For hours, I thought about what I’d learned: what Tristan had done, what Sebastian had kept from me, what Byron had been through.

The hurt I was feeling melded with the hurt I felt on their behalf – for the insecurity that Tristan hid so well, for the pressure he put on himself to give Sebastian the things he wanted, rather than accepting that Sebastian loved him for his own sake.

For the torn loyalty Sebastian must have felt in keeping secrets, even in the face of his own guilt.

For the way that Byron’s actions years ago cast lasting shadows over the potential for his future happiness.

Sebastian stirred awake in the early hours of the morning, and I slid onto him, taking him inside me and rocking slowly until we came together in a gentle explosion of soft gasps and even softer kisses.

He nuzzled my neck, scraping his teeth over my skin.

I brought his lips back to my mouth. I wanted his bite – badly – but not until I’d worked through what I needed to do to fix all this.

Because I’d had enough of crying, that was for sure. But thinking ?

Thinking was something I could never get enough of, and it was something I was good at.

I’d solve this, one way or another.

It was, of course, more difficult than I’d expected; Byron didn’t come to class for the next week. Nor did he respond to messages or calls, and neither did Tristan see him at the gym, or in the pool, or in the gardens.

Sebastian and I pushed each other to work on our final essays.

We’d chosen different topics, so we bounced ideas off one another, testing our arguments, checking our references, helping each other with word choice.

It was hard to focus, so we’d work in short bursts and be rewarded at the end with cups of tea, made by Tristan, who spent every waking hour keeping a watchful eye on both of us.

By the weekend, I felt largely like myself again. I’d stopped trembling, my temperature returned to normal, and I could eat properly once more.

I resented my reaction as much as I resented anything about my designation, and I hated the reminder that alphas held so much power.

‘It’s not right,’ I growled.