Page 31 of Your Wild Omega (The Feral Actress #2)

Chapter twenty-five

Callisto

Not pack.

Never have words cut me to the core like those two. Zack’s speech was clumsy, but I understood his meaning. Pack are willing to die for each other—and he doesn’t believe I’m at that point. I would’ve fought the fucker, except for one thing; Red doesn’t smile inside for me.

How can she, when I broke her heart?

I choke on the solid emotion trapped in my throat.

The worst part is that fucking feral alpha’s right. Nothing has ever seemed worth giving my life to. People don’t get that much effort from me. When exactly did I seal my heart away so nothing could touch it? When did I decide to lose myself in work so I didn’t have to feel anything?

Dawn breaks over the private family crypt, catching in the pigeonholes and glinting gold on the urns resting within. Gives the illusion death is peaceful, but the kind of death Zack spoke about isn’t.

No, he wasn’t really talking about death at all. He was talking about life—a chaotic life.

Everything about my life is always orderly. I use the same dry cleaner for my suits, order the same food, and buy my furniture out of the same catalogues. My bills are all automated and so’s my investment plan. I never take vacations, a fact I always prided myself on.

Now I see it for what it really is—avoidance of anything that might be uncomfortable. A way to dodge the disguised anxiety riding my heart.

I slump forward, resting my hands on the stone shelf in front of me. “Guess what, Dad? You were a jerk. Weren’t you supposed to teach your son about life? Not how to hide from living.”

If Mom’s two other partners, Simon and Lector, had joined the pack earlier, would I have gotten a more balanced world view?

They’re always trying new things. I let my head drop with a sigh.

I know the story. Dad was cautious of anyone who expressed an interest in him and his omega, assuming it was because of his wealth, and he fought hard to keep the two brothers at arm’s length for years.

By the time he finally gave in, I was already a teen and away from home more often than not.

I grip my upper arm with my right hand, massaging over the spot where a tattoo marks my skin.

The clock face shows 9:46, the time listed on my father’s death certificate: a reminder that all time stops eventually.

I took it as a warning, but somewhere along the way this lesson morphed into one that consumed me.

You can’t get time back, so I figured if I earned as much as possible per hour, the expenditure would be worthwhile.

But it’s not. It’s empty and hollow.

My breathing quickens, coming in short gasps as the morning light warms my arched back. But that fragment of heat can’t penetrate my skin. Inside I’m ice cold.

A footstep scrapes the stone floor behind me and a man clears his throat. “I didn’t believe it when the security system said someone was out here.”

I twitch and spin.

Simon scans me from the entryway and frowns. “You all right, Callisto?”

I pull out a handkerchief and mop sweat off my forehead. It’s definitely not from heat because the air’s still chilly. What am I supposed to tell him? That my life just imploded, and I don’t know how to put the pieces back together? That I’m verging on a panic attack here on the crypt’s floor?

I suck in a deep breath and turn away, hoping he can’t read the distress in my body language. “Tell me how you and Lector won Mom’s heart.”

He snorts and walks over, his indoor slippers scuffing lightly on the stone.

“Wasn’t Lexi we had to convince.” He stares down at the gold plaque which reads Alistair Callisto Wren.

“He’d had so many people approach him wanting to use Lexi to lure him into business deals.

” A smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but he even sent thugs to our house once or twice to tell us to stay away from her. ”

I turn to gape at him. “Dad was on terms with thugs?”

Simon laughs. “And that’s the only bit that surprises you? I’m sure he hired them for the day. Lector responded by sending him a thank-you card along with our signed prenuptial agreement.”

I choke. “Were you even dating Mom at that point?”

He grins. “Of course not. But we wanted to.” Simon rubs his thumb over Dad’s name and sighs. “You gave us hell, Alistair. Wish you were still here to give us some more.”

I study him, noting the gray streaks in his light brown hair. Time is printing itself into his skin, burrowing into the corners of his eyes and lips. “You miss him?”

Simon turns and rests one hand on my shoulder. “Callisto, I loved your dad very much. I hope you know that.” He squeezes me once and drops his hand. “Of course I miss him.”

I nod slowly.

“And I love you too, if you’ll believe it.” He slaps me on my back. “Come on. Let’s go inside and eat something. Dwelling on the dead too long isn’t healthy.”

I’d thought I’d stay here for a while, but he makes a good point. Dad and his workaholic traits won’t help me any now.

I straighten and dig my hands into my pockets, casting a long look at my father’s urn before turning away. “Simon, am I a workaholic?”

He laughs as he leads the way out of the crypt. “Are you seriously asking me that? No, you’re not “a” workaholic. You’re the definition of one.” Simon throws one arm out dramatically. “Workaholics stand afar and ask: How can we be more like Callisto? ”

“Very funny.” I snort but can’t muster up the energy for true humor. It feels like the pieces of me have cracked open, and my willpower’s drained out through the gaps. Like I can’t even care anymore. This must be what it means to lose a soulmate.

Did Red feel like this the day we met, when I turned my back on her?

We cross the rose garden on the side of the twenty-room mansion and follow the path around the back. Simon keys in the door code on the security pad and leads me into the kitchen.

“Coffee?” he asks, pulling out two mugs.

“Yep. Anything black works for me.”

He slips a mug under the spout on the high-tech machine and soon the bitter scent of ground beans spreads through the room. Simon steals glances my way from the corner of his eye. “Sit down,” he says, pointing to the barstool. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Feels like it too,” I mutter. The seat grates noisily against the tiled floor, making me wince.

He gets pita wraps out of the fridge and breaks a couple of eggs into a pan. Bacon goes in next, adding its own unique semi-sweet aroma.

The bag in the trash can rustles as he tosses the scraps. “Something bad happen?”

That’s the understatement of the year. “Yeah.” Something so bad it feels like I’ll never be able to draw a full breath again.

Each time air whooshes into my lungs, it seems like it’s the last one I’ll get.

I’m holding together because I’m not the kind of guy who cries—not for myself anyway.

Red’s the only one who deserves my tears.

Simon clears his throat. “You asked how we courted Lexi . . . Well, the truth is we didn’t.

Not really.” He leans his elbows on the bench.

“We weren’t chasing just your mom. Prickly and intimidating as he was, we wanted to get to know Alistair better too.

Two halves of a whole and all that stuff.

” He waves one hand in the air. “We were, like, two wolves stepping onto his territory, you know?”

I drop my head onto my arms with a bitter laugh.

I lost my own territory to an imposter alpha and he swept both my omega and best friend away from right under my nose.

And yet, although the resentment in my heart threatens to drown me, I can’t fault Zack.

He’s the only one of us with a direct link to Red’s emotions.

He instinctively acted in what he thought was her best interest.

As ignorant and childish as he is, he saw through my selfish motives. And if he knows, that means Red knows too. Red knew I was trying to make myself indispensable, trying to tie her to me. She saw through my cowardice. No wonder she hesitated.

“Oh.” Simon lifts one finger. “There was a day we took Lexi on a picnic—in your dad’s office.” He chuckles at the memory.

I lift my head, gaping at him. “In the Wren Tower?”

“Yep.” He grins and retrieves the first coffee mug.

“We took a blanket and basket, the whole works. Made ourselves right at home in the middle of his Alessander Hummings -designed suite. He held two appointments there like we didn’t exist before he caved.

I think that was the day we put the first chip in his armor. ”

I laugh dryly. “That’s crazy. I can’t picture it.” Dad was a perfectionist. Simon and his brother would have turned his life upside down.

He slides my coffee across the bench before spreading hummus and mayonnaise onto the wraps. The eggs and bacon go next, followed by cheese, baby spinach, and sliced tomato. He rolls them up neatly and puts one on a plate for me.

He sighs as he slides it across the bench.

“Lector and I tried our best to show you what pack should be like. We thought when you took Rickon under your wing that you understood the picture, but the older you got, the more you withdrew. I’m sorry we couldn’t do better, but like the old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water but—”

I hold up my hand, wincing. “I get it, so please don’t rub salt in my wounds.” As if anything he says could make me understand how much I’ve lost—I feel it in every icy, trembling fiber.

Simon shrugs and drops into a nearby seat to eat his breakfast wrap. His warm brown gaze lands on me and he speaks through a mouthful. “Had to shoot my shot. This is the most we’ve chatted in years.”

I snort and take a bite. Honestly, although the food smells good, I can’t taste it. I’m sitting in my semi-estranged family’s house, eating a meal prepared by a stepdad who doesn’t approve of me, and I’m homeless because a cage-fighting alpha just claimed my omega and kicked me out of my own crib.

And even while I’m alternating between numb and shivering inside, my brain’s still going through the motions of my upcoming cases, and I’m planning to buy into the apartment building down the road from Harkman and Laurance. Life doesn’t stop just because your heart got broken.

Though I wish it would.

I choke on my food and let it drop to the plate. It suddenly feels as if I’m another version of myself floating on the ceiling, evaluating the Callisto sitting on a barstool at the gold-flecked marble countertop. Like I’m being weighed on some cosmic scales and my heart’s heavier than a feather.

Like I’m not the man I thought I was.

I watch, dissociated, as Simon scoots closer and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Want me to go wake your mom?”

I shake my head. “Let her sleep,” I grind out, my throat catching on the words. “But I do want to see her. Make her dinner. Does tomorrow night work?”

He frowns and scratches his ear. “Um, the thing is, Lexi doesn’t like eating late at night.”

“Five thirty okay?” Can’t blame him for assuming. I’ll rearrange my work hours so I can knock off early.

Simon relaxes. “Sure, that’s fine. We’ll give you space.”

“Appreciate it.” I scoot the stool back and rise. “I’m gonna get going. Thanks for breakfast and the chat.” I see myself out, breathing in the scent of damp air after the overnight rain.

Red was prophetic. She did break me. But maybe I needed some breaking. Now I want to put the pieces back together, jagged edge by jagged edge, and I need to start with the woman who birthed me. The one I’ve hurt as much as my omega.

But today, I just need a little time for myself. Time to let the raw wound in my heart close over.

Truth is, though, I’m not sure it ever will.