Page 20 of Forget

“Tell me where all your weapons are,” Dad demands, his voice sounding unsure that I could have possibly been able to hide anything in the black formal sheath dress that I’m currently wearing.

Smirking, I pull the knife from the holder between my breasts, earning an eye roll from my father. “You told me to also use my assets,” I remind him. “Even if they were frisking omegas tonight, they wouldn’t live to tell the tale if they touched me there.”

“Damn right,” he says with a nod. “Where else?”

My blonde hair is pulled up into an updo, I slide the knife back and I show him the way each pin is also a blade. There’s also spikes in my heels that I can do damage with, and a garrote hidden in the belt that’s decorating my dress.

I didn’t want to feel drab in the all black outfit.

“Your knife skills are amazing, may as well use what you’re good at,” Dad says. “I need to teach you how to shoot a gun. I’ll feel better then.”

“I’m always going to be your little girl, even if I am eighteen,” I remind him as we walk out to the car with our security detail. I’m bundled up in my coat, but still shiver as I look around at the snow on the ground.

“You’re never going to enjoy it when I leave the house.”

Dad taught me how to drive and helped me get my license over the last two months. I feel less anxious knowing I have a vehicle and I’m not unable to go anywhere. His only rule is that I loop him into my plans before leaving. I can live with that.

It’s nice to check in with someone. If Dad isn’t in town for some reason, my grandparents are who I’m supposed to be in contact with. They came back from their vacation, more than excited to meet me.

I’m feeling content in my new life.

Outside of one thing.

“How was your therapy appointment today, Aisling?” Dad asks, his shrewd gaze on me as I get situated into the car. My thigh high slit makes for easy access for my knife strapped there, however it has to sit high, so it doesn’t flash people.

Instead, the knife hilt pokes me in a very intimate area, one I will not be sharing with anyone in the sedan. Even if the guards immediately lift the privacy partition once my father gets in beside me, I’ll just shift the hilt and deal.

I have a feeling that I’ll be standing a lot tonight in order to avoid being poked by something hard.

Forcing my amusement away from the thought, I focus on my father’s question. The reality is that I hate my therapist. He is a beta who believes all omegas should conform and find packs as soon as possible, otherwise, everything that happens is punishment.

“I don’t think this therapist is the right fit for me,” I say carefully. My father is very protective of me, which means sometimes, I need to protect the world from his wrath.

When I feel like it, anyway.

“Out with it, Aisling,” Dad growls, making me sigh.

“Dr. Robert Hikson is a backwards thinking beta,” I explain. “His ideas aren’t helpful to omegas with trauma, nor are they conducive to healing. Dad, I’m really trying here, but I’m going to stab him if he tells me I need to pack up with the first assholes with knots willing to take care of me.”

“If we hurry, I’m sure I can pay him a visit and not be late,” he says, deadly calm surrounding him.

Yeah, no. I know that tone.

“Absolutely not, but I want to quit this therapist,” I tell him. “That makes three therapists in two months. I’m broken, I can’t be fixed. According to all three therapists, all I need is to be fucked six ways to Thursday in order to be straightened out.”

“Aisling,” Dad groans, rubbing his eyes. “That’s not what you need, obviously. Fuck, why are they all like this?”

“The system doesn’t cater to omegas,” I grumble. “Look at what happened to Mom and I. The signs are all there that there isn’t any help for omegas, male or female without a pack. I needto be knocked out once a month in order to survive my own biology, Dad.”

“I’m well aware, my daughter,” he says, dropping his hands into his lap. “Every time, I’m terrified something is going to go wrong and you won’t wake up. I despise that there aren’t any better options. I also completely understand why you don’t want to attempt to go through your heat again because of what Hayes did. He’s still on my shit list. I can barely look at him without wanting to fuck him up.”

“I bet he has no idea why you’re upset either,” I grunt. “I don’t want to complain and get lost in my past. I want to do something about it, Dad.”

“So do it,” he says. “I’ll support you in whatever it is. Minnesota especially doesn’t have any resources for omegas or children who are displaced. There’s an association that umbrellas over the country that states that it’s for omega’s rights, but they’re for the status quo. Fuck shit up. It’s what Sullivans do.”

My lips twitch at his words. My grandmother is a tiny omega badass. She doesn’t care about social standards unless there’s a reason for it, and my grandfather indulges her. Their pack consisted of a beta and another alpha, but both have passed away.

There’s an ocean of sadness that wells in her almost colorless blue eyes, yet I can see that something in her needs to remember them.

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