Page 14 of Mercy & Her Devils

My brother believes that somehow, he’ll rescue me.

But right now, I’m going to be left alone in this cold cage of a house with my furious Alpha.

CHAPTER THREE

Ace Hall, Haven

It’s been six hours, since Fletcher dragged me from the lounge, growled at me to wash my brother’s scent from my body, then slammed the door, locking me inside.

He didn’t even look at me, as if he was too disgusted.

I pace from one side of the austere but elegant bedroom to the other. My bare feet make no sound on the floorboards. The room smells only of the lavender spray that I added this morning to the bone-white bed covers to help calm my Omega senses.

There are no trinkets, photographs, or ornaments on the plain oak furniture.

Fletcher despises clutter.

It’s now nighttime, and cold moonlight streams through the window.

I’m so worried about why Fletcher hasn’t returned that I’ve allowed myself to sink into the shadows, as the light has faded.

I’m numb.

When I was first thrown into the room, I followed instructions and reluctantly trawled into the marble en suite to shower, scrubbing off my brother’s scent.

Then I collapsed into a ball, sobbing.

I allowed the water pounding down around me to mask my breakdown.

As soon as the water cooled, I forced myself to straighten my shoulders, wiped the tears away, and stepped out.

I had to be strong now.

I was done playing the perfect Omega.

Thomas swore that he’d find a way to get me out of this house, and I trusted him.

But I wanted more now.

I wanted to take down the Institute.

Fletcher.

And every Alpha like him.

Now, I’m wearing my floor length white nightie that makes me look like a penitent.

My favorite used to be my lavender silk pajamas because they reminded me of Gabriel’s eyes.

Fletcher threw those in the trash on the night that I moved into Ace Hall.

My long hair is damp, and water tears down my neck.

I’m desperate to hold Mr. Peacock in my palm and stroke over his soft textures but I can’t risk it. I hid my emotional support bird at the bottom of my sock drawer.

I know that Fletcher will expect to find me on my knees looking remorseful and following all his rules.

Fuck it.

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