Page 173 of Juliet & Her Romeos

Joy and triumph surge through the bond stronger than I’ve felt them before. The feeling is powerful enough that I bet it knocks Benedict and Swan to their knees back in Romeo Hall.

I grin at the thought that they’ll know Ambrose has won, despite not being with us.

Then Vito is kissing me, before he’s pulling me down the steps toward Ambrose, who is climbing out of the car.

Ambrose has won the right to my bond.

Yet I’ve lost my cousin, the only family who still cares about finding my mom. Plus, we’ve made a permanent enemy of him, the new Head Alpha of the Cinders.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Romeo Hall, Sanctum

On aching legs, I stumble down the corridor in Romeo Hall, rechecking the locked doors.

Perhaps, this time, one of them will open.

My thighs tremble with exhaustion.

The last three days have been tough.

After Ambrose risked his life on the track (reckless, obsessed Alpha), to prove himself against Silvanus, how can I give anything but my best?

Swan and I have been driving ourselves hard to perfect a routine for the Rose vs Slipper Ballet Contest.

We courted this pack through dance, and we’ll keep it together through dance as well.

I’m only wearing my golden leotard, since I’m still overheated from exercising.

I try the next door, turning the handle sharply.

I growl, however, when it rattles but doesn’t open.

After Vito cooks a delicious lunch each day for us, and Ambrose disappears to do whatever his mysterious work is, it’s become my routine to investigate the mansion.

Yet I haven’t discovered anything sinister.

No hidden basements with captive Omegas.

No secret papers about the Institute.

And no sign of Nova.

I stand before the final door in the corridor.

This the last chance to search for the day.

Benedict will be sprawled somewhere in the library, scrawling musical notes on a page like art.

He’s been composing a new score for my dance with Swan at the contest.

It’ll be the first time that music by an Omega will be played publicly at a ballet.

I fucking love that for Benedict.

Resigned, I grab the handle, already planning how I’ll fit behind Benedict and nap with my nose nestled in his honey scented curls, while he composes.

To my delight, however, this time…at long last…it turns.

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