Page 86 of Heat Hesitation

"Will you tell me where we are?"

"In the mountains," Sven supplies from behind me as he follows. "Further north. We bought this cabin a while ago. We needed a place to… get away. From the Hills, from everybody."

Lenny leads me down a narrow hall. The cabin is small, the wood floors creaking with each step. As Jackson mentioned, Enzo may have figured out they owned this property.

I need to stall or save myself, those are the only acceptable options, I cannot allow them to take me somewhere else or follow through with whatever insane plan Jackson's come up with.

"What is—" my words trail off when Lenny flips the light switch. I stand, frozen, taking the room in.

A low, haphazardly thrown-together nest sits in the center of the room surrounded by Alma. The scent of lilac alone is overpowering—manufactured as it is, it's close enough—but her picture is everywhere.

Abandoning my captors I float into the room, overwhelmed by the Alma of it all. My fingertips trace the photos on the wall, arranged less stalker-serial killer vibe, though I know that's exactly what this is, and more like a loving family, and this was her home. I'm taken aback by the sheer love and attention put into every frame, arranged like a gallery wall.

The curtains, the bed, even the lamp shade, and the unique leaf-like design of each fan blade overhead are all something she'd have chosen.

"How… I don't understand. How did you get all this?"

"We've missed you so much." I stiffen at how close Lenny is.

"We've studied her. I went back through her school pictures and things she posted online, like pictures and her diary. Maybe it's punishment, getting to know who she was only after she died," Sven says morosely.

I knew only half of this stuff; I didn't even know she had an online journal. Oh, Alma. Did I know you at all?

I keep walking, acutely aware of Lenny's proximity as he tails me. Printouts of diary posts, snapshots of her, with Red artfully cut out of the picture, her musings, and portraits from her ballet troupe. It's an homage to my sister, and I'm part horrified by the intensity of it all and part in awe at seeing how much I've missed, slapping me in the face with their devotion.

"I don't understand. Why did you… why did you treat her that way? If this was how you felt, how could you…" I can't even form the words. I can't fathom the wrongness of it all.

"It was years of OFA breeding, and everyone, our parents, and the faculty arranged matches based on political or financial benefit. It was a knee-jerk reaction once we realized who she was. You have to understand… I know what people must have thought, that we forced her. That we didn't care about her. That's not true. We were in awe of her. I fell for her instantly. She was right there with us."

Standing against the door with Dave beside him, Jackson gives me his speech as if he's been preparing for it for years.

"She was sixteen," I grind out.

"We had just turned nineteen. She was a month from her seventeenth birthday. I remember that Sven was the only one of us who thought of asking. We were all horny teenagers making bad decisions. But that's not why you're angry."

I was—very angry about it, actually. But omega biology, paired with Alma's flightiness and desire to pack up, made me see his version might be true. It doesn't matter, though. "Why did you throw her away?"

Maybe that was the root of it, because it shaped and bled into my life, too. I never trusted high society after what they did. Maybe my life would have been easier. Maybe I'd still be fighting against the OFA's image of omegas, but it wouldn't have taken me to age twenty-six to find my pack.

"It wasn't… we didn't mean to. It was impulsive, and we were young and fucking stupid. If I could change it, I would. God, if we could go back. Do you have any idea what it's like? We met her; our scent-match! Our fated mate, and then she died. This, this feeling inside me…" Jackson thumps his chest aggressively.

"Us," Dave corrects. "We don't sleep. We barely function. Life is meaningless without her." His distant gaze focuses on me, so I change the subject.

"What happened? After. After you rejected her, after you took her virginity, after you broke her heart. What happened after?"

"We knew right away we couldn't let her leave. My parents, you have to understand, paid a lot of money for us to be there and covered all of our fees. They expected us to pay them back; we spent the whole night meeting the top candidates."

God, I want to vomit. Like the omegas are nothing more than cattle. I try to keep my expression neutral, but the anger and betrayal burn my stomach, that they could do that to her. I remember the hurt in Alma's voice, her broken tears.

"But it didn't matter after Alma. Our alphas refused to let us go any further the second we left. We went back for her, but she was already gone. Her parents, your dad—" Jackson nods toward me, "he was livid. I know we pushed the story that he was drunk, and maybe he had a few, but he wasn't, he was just pissed. Took a swing at me, but he was old. Messy. Missed by a mile."

The fucking tool smiles faintly as if the memory of my father defending Alma was sweet.

"We argued, Alma told us to fuck off. They got in their car and left. We grabbed our car so we could chase after her. We figured she'd have had time to cool off and by the time she made it home she'd forgive us. Or start to."

"I know we weren't bonded," Sven adds quietly, so far the most sane of the four brothers. "But I felt her fear. I don't know if it was an animal or what, but your dad lost control of the car. In the mountains, at night, the roads are twisting and dark. They crashed. I felt it."

"It was an accident. We had nothing to do with it," Jackson assures me.

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