Page 3 of Marigold Run

My excitement immediately turns to shock when my body is heaved to one side, and I’m thrown into the air.

My eyes go wide as I begin to fall, thin twigs and roots slapping my back. I don’t have time to panic for my own life, because all I can think about is Stefan.

My baby brother is all alone as I fall through the air.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Then pain bursts behind my eyes, and everything goes dark.

Two Years Later

Mari

“You have one minute remaining,” the automated voice cuts through the phone call, interrupting Everly. The beta lets out a little groan of disappointment.

“How is thirty minutes already over?” she whines. It thrills me that she’s sad to hang up. I’ve been courted and rejected by too many packs to start this damn process over again.

“I wish I could meet you all in person,” I say in my sweetest voice. “I want to see your faces. I want to know if my fantasies are close.” I let out a breathy hum, pleased when one of the twins makes a rumbling noise of approval. Dassy and Hutch sound identical on the phone…not that Hutch says much.

“It won’t be long, omega,” Izan says. The pack alpha’s deep voice holds an impressive amount of confidence. It’s almost as if he knows something I don’t. It gives me hope that they’ve already decided to move on to the next step and request to claim me.

“Promise?” I ask, batting my eyelashes. I know they can’t see me, but if I do get to meet them in person, I’ll have to flirt, and I’ve never been good at acting coy. I need the practice.

“Promise,” Izan says, then the phone beeps and the line goes dead.

I hang up the receiver and the tension in my gut unfurls. Exhausted, I rest my elbows on the counter, hanging my head. It’s so draining, acting sweet and bubbly when all I want to do is demand they claim me. I want to get the hell out of this god-forsaken nut house.

“Time for your medication,” Traven says in his overly friendly voice.

I turn to the orderly, glaring at the tiny paper cup as he hands it over. In one jerk of my head, I down my antidepressants without any water. I’m convinced they don’t do shit, but there’s no arguing with the doctors in this place.

“Some of the omegas are in the sewing room,” Traven says, pointing down the hall. “The fall festival is around the corner and they’re making decorations. Maybe you could go and help.”

Traven’s not a bad guy, but he sometimes talks to the omegas around here like we’re a bunch of frightened toddlers. It’sveryannoying.

“I’m good,” I say flatly, crushing the paper cup in my fist. “Thanks.”

“You don’t want to help plan the menu?” He pushes his hands into his pockets. His scrubs are bright blue with crisp lines down the sleeves and the front of his pants. Clearly brand new. “They’re making a list of desserts, and you could?—”

“I said I’m good.” My voice comes out much harsher than I intended, so I smile, trying to soften my reaction. “But, thanks,” I shrug, “for mentioning it.” I hate how stiff I sound.

I’m not good with easy banter or small talk. Stefan was the sociable one out of the two of us. Even as a child, he loved tomeet new people and could talk to them so effortlessly, but I can’t even manage a convincing smile half the time.

Dr. Ambrose says my reluctance to interact with others is probably a result of my repressed memories. He says it’s my subconscious trying to protect me from getting hurt.

I say it’s all bullshit.

The fact is I don’t have a single repressed memory. I remember everything: My family’s death, living on the run, falling off that cliff.Losing Stefan. I live with every painful memory. But being in a nut house is like being under a microscope. The doctors demand you talk about it, pick your past apart, then force meds down your throat to make you seem“normal”. But there’s nothing normal about this place. We’re all sad and pathetic, and talking about it doesn’t fix shit.

Hell, there have even been a few omegas at Havenfield that I’ve recognized from my old life. At one time, there was a redhead here that I know my brother was friends with, but thankfully, she never seemed to recognize me. If I remember correctly, she was young when she came here. And once I arrived she was too wrapped up in her own trauma to realize who I was.

I was thankful when she left.

My biggest fear was that she wanted to know what happened to my brother, and I’d be forced to admit how deeply I failed him.

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