Page 67 of The Butcher

It wouldn’t be a total shocker, not when you consider the time they’ve spent together. But I know they’ve shopped for her so it doesn’t make a lot of sense for her to wear something of theirs when she has her own things. Unless…

Unless it’s an omega thing.

An omega who has somewhat bonded with the alpha and beta caring for her.

My mom used to do that, she had a closet full of nothing but my dads’ clothes. Mainly stuff they’d worn and not washed, that way she had their scents at her disposal, and it was because they were her mates.

Her mates, her protectors. Her safe space, and comfort.

If Indy is wearing stuff that belongs to Clayton and Nash…

That thought is almost enough to make me crack.

Almost.

“You don’t need to speak, just listen,” I grunt, a definite edge to my tone thanks to my conflicting feelings. “Understood?”

Indy nods, her eyes on mine for a few fleeting moments before they drop to her feet.

I hate seeing her this way.

But this is the only way.

“You need to leave.” She flinches and my stomach churns. “As soon as possible, you have to leave Obsidian Falls. Find somewhere else, anywhere else to start over, but you can’t do it here.”

Her shoulders slump and it almost looks like Indy is curling in on herself.

This is the only way.

“Whatever thoughts or feelings you have when it comes to Nash and Clay, forget them.” I can see her fight the urge tolook up, to say something to me, but I can’t let that happen. I just need to get through this. “They’re mine, not yours, and they never will be, so whatever fantasy you’ve conjured up can’t happen. We helped when you needed it, made sure you could get back to functional and now that we have, it’s time for you to go. Honestly, you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

My heart pinches as I watch Indigo wrap her arms around her waist and hold tight.

“I don’t care about where you came from, and I don’t give a shit about where you’re going.” There’s anger in my voice now and while it isn’t actually directed at her, I need her to believe it is. “I want my life back, and I can’t have that until you’re gone.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

I told her not to speak but I’d give anything to hear her say something, anything right now. I want her to fight me, to defy me, to tell me to go to hell or fuck off. I need Indy to say she’s staying and she doesn’t give a damn what I have to say about it, that she doesn’t care what I want because she wants to be here, with us, and there isn’t anything I can do to change that.

None of that happens.

Instead, we sit in silence, nothing but the sound of an occasional pop from the fireplace, and the fabric where Indigo is rubbing her hoodie, trying to comfort herself against my few but shitty words.

Then… Then this female—my female—drives the dagger I’m wielding right through my heart.

“Ok,” she whispers, then adds, “I’m sorry.”

As I watch her walk out of the room, eyes downcast and head hanging in some sort of pain, I know I did the right thing.

Even if it feels so goddamn wrong.

Indy didn’t leave.

Bram tried to kick her out of not only our house but our lives just over a week ago, but she didn’t leave.

She was ready to.

She wouldn’t tell us exactly what Bramley said, just that she needed to find somewhere else to go, and I don’t think I’ve hurt so much for someone else since Maeve died.

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