Page 47 of The Omega Verse

“‘Afterlove’.” The song – my voice, his lyrics – hits me from every side. “But I held him off. I made him wait. We got another gig, this time over in Melbourne. There was going to be an agent there. I told him we’d go after we got signed.”

To my shock, Cassie just nods her head, like she wants to hear more.

Anger blooms in my belly, and I tear my hands through my hair. “Don’t you get what I’m saying? If I hadn’t pushed him to wait, we would’ve found you. Not years later, but right then, when you were still a kid. We could’ve saved you from the streets, and fuck knows what else.” I cover my face, hating the look in her eyes. The soft imagining. The ‘what ifs.’ But fuck, it’s even worse picturing Steven’s face if he was here right now. The disappointment. The regret. The proof that all the bullshit we did to make it to the top came at a price he would have never agreed to pay. “Shit. I’m so fucking sorry, Cassie.”

“Wait, Jett. Just listen to me for a minute.” She tugs my hand down and drags me to the sofa, sitting so close I have to bite back the whine in my throat. I’ll give her a dozen houses if she’ll just let me get the fuck out of this one. “I don’t blame you, Jett, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

I sneer at her, that anger turning to red hot acid in my gut. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Cassie.”

“I’m not. Because I wasn’t there. I only spent a month at the Donahues.”

I stare at her, trying to put my memories in order. It was such a crazy time of my life, and if I’m honest, the fucking obsession Steven had with tracking down his sister was getting old. Yes, we needed to get her out of the foster system, but I just hoped she was cool and wouldn’t hold us back. Fuck, I’m an arsehole. “The Donahue dude said you were with him for a year, but then you ran off. Steven paid him for a list of places where you might have gone. We searched every bridge, every shelter, every shitty crash pad for miles.”

Cassie’s eyes flash and her strawberry scent turns sour. “Well, Donahue lied to you, Jett. I didn’t run from his place. One month after I arrived, he sold me to an omega grooming operation.”

“What?” I rear back, trying to pull away from her, but she grips my arm tighter. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s not that unusual on the streets.”

There’s a matter-of-factness in her tone that knocks me back against the cushions. The urge to get the fuck out of there is burning up my gut, but her eyes are riveted on mine, those soft denim blues the same shape as my best friend’s. And he told her – he goddamn promised – that I was man enough to help her if she needed me. “Tell me what that means.”

“Teenagers with the potential to present as omegas are taken into these supposed shelters. To the outside world, they’re feeding, clothing, and educating kids who would otherwise be on the streets. But they literally groom them to be breeders for packs. They do everything in their power to bring on first heats, and then if the kids do present, the pack gets an omega, and the owners get a huge payout.”

I don’t know how I manage to rip my gaze from her face and settle on her mate. Maybe because Tom is vibrating like an impending earthquake, his hands in fists and his face grey with menace. “And you were in one of these places, Cass?”

She bites her lip as she looks up at him, more sheepish than anything. “Not exactly. Donahue sold me, but I ran the first week I arrived. I cut ties with everyone from before and went deep underground, because I knew if I was caught, they’d make an example of me. They couldn’t have their meal tickets running off. So, when I got a chance to head south, I grabbed it. Cookie took me in, and then, a few years later, my best friend got me a new identity.” She looks up at him, her eyes shining. Tears or hero worship? I’m too fucked up to tell. “I’m sorry I never told you the full story, Tom. I just...wanted to put that part of my life behind me. And by the time we met, it was ancient history.”

He's still an ominous shade of grey, but he manages to unclench his fists and give her a stiff nod. As for me, the whole deal makes me want to puke. I rub my gut as I march over and slam the music off. “This doesn’t make me feel any better, Cassie.”

That stubborn dent appears between her brows. “It should, because staying wouldn’t have changed a thing. You wouldn’t have found me. Donahue had every reason to keep lying, and I was doing everything I could to hide. And in the end, I got this life.” I expect her to gesture at the expensive kitchen, or the amazing view, but she just walks over to Tom and threads her fingers through his, looking up at him like he hung the moon. “I wouldn’t change anything for that.”

The pinch in my chest surprises me. I don’t want what they have – do I?

It’s a stupid bloody question. I’ve run from this kind of commitment for as long as I’ve known what it is to mate. At first, it was just because I didn’t want distractions while we were clawing our way to the top. And seriously, why should I tie myself down when the whole world was waiting for me to take it by the throat? Besides, touring is brutal. Endless roads, shitty hotel rooms, and people always trying to snatch a piece of you, like you’re some kind of fucking souvenir. And then when we weren’t traveling, we were in the studio. That was my favourite place, sure, but it was also exhausting. It was never a smooth creative process, like you hear with some bands. They sit in a circle, strum a few chords, and out pops a hit album. For us, it was a sweaty, screaming, heaving labour of love/hate.

The obvious answer was to bond with Steven and River. Cory and Rick were already involved with another pack, so it made sense for the three of us to get together, even though they hadn’t gone public yet. But as much as I loved them with everything in me, I couldn’t see it working. They were like two puzzle pieces that shouldn’t fit, but did. And when they clicked together – after months and months of dancing around the fucking issue – there was no room left over for anyone else.

Yeah, yeah. Poor fucking rockstar.

Blow me.

But it’s a moot point now, anyway. Steven is gone, and River is broken, even if he tries to hide it. The only time I’ve seen anything other than pure wretched loss on his face is when he looks at Cassie. She’s gentle with him in a way that other people can’t fake, and the chemistry is there, no question. Sometimes when they’re in the same room, the mingled scent of peachy vanilla is enough to make my mouth water. Throw in the spicy, smoky musk of the other guys, and I’m practically salivating. But as selfish as I can be, I know that Cassie’s got enough on her plate without becoming the emotional support filling in our messed-up sandwich.

“What?” I realise I’ve been staring so hard at Cassie that when I look away, she’s imprinted on my eyelids.

“I think the other guys are here,” she says, scrambling to her feet. But just as she’s about to follow Tom to the door, she pivots and drops a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’m glad we cleared the air, Jett. I really want us to be friends, just like Steven hoped we’d be.”

And just like that, our sexy sandwich filler friend-zones me.

Cass

It’s perfect timing, the other guys turning up to the house. Not just because Jett and I have had a chance to talk things out, but because Tom is still watching me with a steely glint in his eyes. I know he’s stewing over the story I shared about Bloom Haven, the omega grooming facility I escaped when I was fourteen. I was telling the truth when I said I never meant to keep it from him, but when there’s something dark and twisted in your past, talking about it feels like you’re giving it a second chance to screw with your head.

The important part of the story is that I escaped. It wasn’t easy, and I looked over my shoulder for years until I officially changed my name. Maybe my life was smaller and quieter than it might have been if Steven had found me. But this life gave me Tom Bush as a mate, so how can I complain?

“We’re going to talk,” he murmurs in my ear as he opens the door to let Silva, Kobi, and River in. I greet them with hugs, and I’m relieved to see their manager and lawyer haven’t tagged along. Not because I have anything against them, but because I want to share this part of Steven with just the guys. He might have written that letter to Jett and me, but I have the feeling he’d approve of his house filling up with rowdy rockstars. And it’s a nice change from the broody stares Jett keeps shooting my way.

As for Silva, he ignores any lingering tension in the air and sweeps me into one of his full-body kisses. When he slings an arm around my shoulders and steers me towards the living area, I can hear Tom grumbling in our wake.

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