Page 35 of Capturing Their Omega

I square up my shoulders and look them dead in the eyes. “Whatever it is, I can handle it,” I say as firmly as I can, ignoring the turmoil within me.

The air is buzzing with tension. I subtly rub my sweaty palms against the hospital gown, ignoring the sweat forming at the nape of my neck, despite the air conditioning that is on full blast in the room.

“The pills are contraband, Cassie,” Jeremiah announces, his grave whisper filling the silence.

No, no, no. This can’t be true.

“We went to a pharmacist Jeremiah knows, and he took just one look at the pills and… apparently, you’ve been taking blockers, Cassie,” Eric chimes in.

I gasp loudly, losing the feeling in my legs for a bit.

“Shit! Cassie!” Jeremiah exclaims, leading me to my bed.

“I’m okay,” I mumble, my voice trembling. I close my eyes for a bit, forcing back the tears that are about to drop from my eyes.

“They’re not just blockers. They might as well be poison!” Eric mutters, an unfamiliar anger tainting his voice. “Why was your mother buying those pills for you? We went to see her, and she clearly knew what we were talking about. She knows what she’s been doing to you!”

“Why would my mom do that? She loves me! There has to be a mistake!” I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe my mom would do that to me. It makes no sense.

Eric frowns at me. “Cassie, why would I lie about your mom? You’re not safe with her! Jeremiah, tell her!”

Eric is angry, but I look at Jeremiah, wondering why he’s so quiet. “What are you thinking, Jeremiah?”

His green eyes are piercing behind his horn-rimmed glasses as he stares at me. “I don’t know. I think you need to have an honest conversation with your mother,” he suggests gently, his thumb rubbing circles against my hand.

“What?” Eric looks like he thinks he didn’t hear his brother right.

Jeremiah sighs. “I saw how Miss Munt acted when we were over there. It was suspicious, but at the same time, she seemed to still be her sweet and kind self. It would be unfair to judge her without hearing her side of the story.”

Eric calms down and seems to be thinking. The room goes silent for a while, allowing me to process my thoughts. I release a slow breath, the reality of the situation finally dawning on me.

“Does this mean that I might be able to shift?” I ask, almost shyly. It’s a stupid thing to ask, given everything that ishappening, but ever since Leila mentioned it, it’s been on my mind.

Eric’s mouth tilts into a little smile, his gaze softening. “Yes,” he nods. “It is possible.”

“Uh, I wouldn’t want us to get ahead of ourselves yet. Let her speak to her mother first, hmm?” Jeremiah says, with a tight smile on his face. He’s always the voice of reason.

“Okay,” I nod firmly. “Time to go have a conversation with my mother.”

Chapter Eleven

Ares

Tick tock, tick tock.

The ticking of the wall clock echoes through my office, a relentless reminder of the silence that fills the space. I swirl the whiskey in my glass, the ice cubes clinking against the sides as I savor the amber liquid.

The scent of oak and vanilla from the candle sitting in the corner of the office permeates through the air, a comforting aroma that eases the tension in my shoulders. I take a long sip, shutting my eyes, feeling the warmth spread through my chest, and letting the momentary peace wash over me.

“Drinking alone? That’s not like you.” Henry’s voice cuts through the stillness, his tone laced with a hint of concern.

I open my eyes to find him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze is fixed on me with an intensity that borders on scrutiny. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes seemed chiseled from granite, a testament to his unyielding nature.

I raise my glass in a silent toast, my black eyes locking onto his. “Care to join me, Henry? It’s not every day I indulge,” I offer, jutting my chin toward the half-empty bottle of whiskey.

Henry’s expression remains impassive, his eyes never leaving mine. “No thanks. I think I’ll pass.”

“More for me then. Your loss,” I shrug, pouring myself another glass. The whiskey glows like liquid gold in the dim light of my office. Henry takes a seat in the chair across from my desk, his gaze never wavering, his eyes boring into mine like a drill.

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