Page 49 of The Butcher

Men don’t dress us.

We aren’t allowed to wear clothes most of the time and if we do, they undress us so fast it’s like we never had anything on at all.

I’m an omega, my life has never been my own, and neither has my body. The right to protect it, to keep it hidden, or show it off if I wanted to, to make the choice as to who gets to see it or touch it, was all taken from me before I could even comprehend that it was wrong.

In thirty-two years, I’ve barely been treated like a human being.

An omega bitch to breed. Three holes to fill with alpha dick. That’s all I ever was to anyone except my mother. I wasn’t worthhealing, I wasn’t worth keeping, or saving. But in a matter of a measly few months, Mona, Clayton, and Nash, this entire house full of people who didn’t have to pull me out of that ravine let alone do what they’ve actually done… They’ve made me feel like I’m more than what I’ve been told my entire life.

Which is why one single tear rolls down my cheek while I stare at Nash, and say, “Thank you.”

“Indy?” His brow furrows and his glasses slide down his nose.

I quickly force a smile as I sniffle, swiping at my face while I giggle nervously, turning toward the back door like I know where I’m going. “I bet Clayton is wondering where we are.”

I cringe as I throw open the screen door and step onto the porch.

How the hell would I know what Clay, or anyone else, is thinking about shit?

Despite their kindness and strange familiarity, I don’t know these men, and saying things like that is presumptuous as hell. It’s also rather stupid but I’ll berate myself for that later.

“He is,” Nash says slowly as he steps outside, fiddling with the door before he stands next to me. “He just sent me his forty-seventh text in the last two hours.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know what a text is?”

I shake my head. I have no fucking clue what that is but it isn’t the first time I’ve heard the word in that context.

He steps into my space, a little closer than before, and holds out his phone—Mona explained that to me—so I can see it. Nash taps and swipes the screen before I see Clayton’s name along with a few others I recognize in something labeled messages, and after another tap, I can’t help but smile over all the texts.

It isn’t quite forty-seven, but there are a lot, and most of them have to do with me coming into town.

“We’ll get you something like this,” Nash says as another message from Clayton pops up. “You might not want to give Clay your number, but we can get you a phone when you’re ready and then…”

Judging by the way he glances at me and then does a double take, Nash must think I look insane but in less than a minute, I’ve been made to feel more important than I ever have, and I’m grinning like an idiot because of it.

Right up until I see a bubble drop down from the top of the screen, with a message that makes my stomach twist.

BRAM:Hunting this weekend. You think you can leave the invalid long enough to get some fucking work done? Or do I need to ask that omega for your balls back already?

Nash quickly pullshis phone out of my line of sight, but the damage is already done.

That was exactly what I was worried about. I’ve overstayed my welcome, and this Bram wants me gone so they can get back to whatever life was before I got here.

My heart starts to race, my pulse pounding in my ears while they simultaneously start to ring. I clench my jaw then immediately start biting my nails, pacing myself right off the porch and over the hard, uneven ground in the yard. Spots start to blur my vision as my anxiety slams into me, taking over at a record speed as I?—

“Hey.” The voice is soft and deep, it’s soothing and right next to my ear. “Indy, look at me, sweetheart.” I can’t see anyone, though, not until I feel gentle pressure on my shoulders, squeezing briefly before moving up and down my arms. “Indigo.”

My breathing automatically matches the movements; slow and steady, rhythmic and calming. The ringing in my ears has faded to a low hum and as I blink repeatedly, the spots disappear, and I’m left looking into the very worried face of the only alpha I’ve ever been grateful for.

“Hi,” I whisper, and he smiles.

“Hi.”

“I’m ok.”

Nash arches a brow. “You sure?”

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