Page 34 of Hunt

"By what, whisking me away like some knight in shining armor?" I sneer.

He takes a step towards me. “If it was a Carbone asking you to trust them, would you?”

“You’re jealous…” I say with an amused laugh.

Nic's eyes flash with a mix of anger and something deeper, more primal. "Maybe I am," he growls, closing the distance between us in two long strides. "Maybe the thought of those Carbone bastards touching you makes me want to tear them apart with my bare hands."

I tilt my chin up defiantly, refusing to be cowed by his alpha posturing. "I'm not yours to be jealous over, Nic. You made that perfectly clear when you abandoned me."

“It was the biggest mistake I ever made,” he mutters.

“Yes, it was. I’d hate to lose me too.”

He gives me a side eye’d glare. “Some things never change, do they?”

I fold my arms over my chest and shrug. “Guess not.”

Just as Nic opens his mouth to reply, the training room door swings open and a harried-looking assistant rushes in. "Miss De Luca, your presence is requested for a fitting for the auction," she says breathlessly, her eyes darting nervously between Nic and me.

I step back from Nic, my heart still racing. "I'll be right there," I tell the assistant coolly, not sparing Nic another glance as I stride past him towards the door.

The walk to my bedroom feels longer than usual, my mind churning with conflicting emotions. Nic's words echo in my head, taunting me with the possibility of escape. But I know better than to trust him. Not again.

As I push open the door to my room, I'm surprised to find not just the usual trio of stylists waiting for me, but also my mother perched on the edge of my bed. "Mama?" I ask, confusion coloring my tone. "What are you doing here?"

She rises gracefully to her feet, her warm smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I wanted to be here for your fitting," she says softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from my face. "It's not every day my daughter prepares for her debut."

There's a sadness in her voice that makes my chest ache. I know she hates this life as much as I do, hates the thought of me being sold off. She’s the one who called me that day in Oregon. She’s the one who warned me and gave me a head start.

Her eyes flit to the three others in the room. The tailors the alphas sent to dress me up like a pretty doll for all the alphas to gawk at. She can’t talk with them in the room. Everything we say will be reported back to my fathers, and she’s the one who will suffer.

I allow the stylists to usher me behind the dressing screen, my mind still reeling from the unexpected presence of my mother. They work efficiently, stripping me of my sweat-soakedtraining clothes and slipping me into a shimmering gown of ivory silk. The fabric clings to my curves like a second skin, the plunging neckline and daring slit up the thigh leaving little to the imagination.

As they fuss over the drape of the skirt and the placement of glittering jewels at my throat and wrists, I catch snippets of their hushed conversation. "...the talk of the town, this auction..."

Bile rises in my throat and I clench my fists, the sharp bite of my nails against my palms grounding me. I won't let them see how their words affect me, won't give them the satisfaction of knowing they've gotten under my skin.

Finally, they step back, admiring their handiwork with critical eyes. "Stunning," one of them breathes, her gaze raking over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. "The alphas won't be able to keep their hands off you."

I meet her stare with a cool one of my own, my lips curving into a razor-sharp smile. "That's the idea, isn't it?" I ask sweetly, venom dripping from my every word. "To be the perfect omega, all dressed up and ready to be bought."

The stylist's smile falters, a flicker of unease crossing her features before she quickly masks it. "Yes, well, I'm sure you'll fetch a pretty penny," she says brightly, her tone just a touch too brittle. "Now, let's see what shoes will go best with this gown, hmm?"

I tune out their chatter as they debate the merits of various stilettos, my gaze drifting to the full-length mirror in the corner. The woman staring back at me is a stranger, all polished veneer and cold, glittering beauty. The kind of woman men would kill to possess.

A bitter laugh threatens to bubble up my throat. If only they knew the truth—that beneath the expensive silk and sparkling jewels, I'm just a scared little girl desperate to escape the gilded cage she was born into.

They back away as I assess myself in the mirror, talking with each other in a little group by the door. Mama comes over to me, looking into the mirror at my side with tears shimmering in her brown eyes. Eyes that match my own exactly.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted this. Not for you or your sister…”

Rosa’s face flashes through my mind. The last time I laid eyes on her was in this very room when I begged her not to go.

I give her a watery smile. “I used to blame you for letting it happen.”

She sucks in a shuddering breath. “Maybe I deserve it.”

I shake my head, cutting her off. “No. None of us fucking deserve this, Mama. One day it wont be this way.”

---