Page 5 of Who We Were

Amaya tosses the omega a quick wave before diving into my back seat.Why isn't she sitting in the front?

Kate clears her throat from beside me. "I know they gave you a lot of information on Amaya's case, but it's important you also see it from her point of view. Amaya is more complex than her experiences and symptoms typed up in a document."

I'm still locked in on my idling car, but my attention is on Kate's words. She must be my daughter’s age, but she holds the same sorrow and struggle in her eyes as Amaya. I'm so out of my comfort zone that it would do me a tremendous amount of good to listen to Kate.

"My advice to you," she says with a sigh. "Listen to her. Not just her words, but her body language. Like right now, she chose to sit in the back. That means she needs space. It's up to her if she wants to tell youwhy, so you're going to need to be patient."

I want to cry. Fuck.I'm a goddamn lawyer who kicks ass every day and is rarely brought down by my emotions. I work a tough and grueling job. I'm strong as an alpha should be, yet here I am freaking the fuck out on the inside.

How am I supposed to help Amaya when I don't know the first thing about her? And what if she is actually suicidal?!

"You have my number," Kate says softly. "Both of you do. I'll be here for her as long as she needs me, and I'll be around frequently. You may see some of my pack mates at times too, but only if she's okay with it. She needs to get used to alphas and betas again if she's ever going to heal and live a good life.”

A good life. Can I give her that? After everything she's been through, I have to fucking try.

3

AMAYA

“How's the temp back there? Not too warm?"

I stifle a sigh, not wanting him to get upset with me. "I'm fine," I say for probably the eighteenth time in the past three hours.

If Paul isn't asking me about the air conditioning, he's making sure the backseat is comfortable. Not only that, he's also made a point to let me know multiple times that I can move to the front whenever I want. Oh, and I can also tell him when I want to stop whether it's for food, to use the bathroom or even just to stretch my legs.

I avoid his gaze in the rearview mirror and narrow my eyes on his bouncing leg. Thank fuck for cruise control, because this guy is far more anxious than I'm comfortable with for someone driving.

"Are you hungry yet?"

You know that feeling in your throat when you get overwhelmed and annoyed at the same time? The one where it feels like a scream is bubbling up and your chest starts to concave? That's what I'm battling. I don't think Paul would hurtme, but that's not to say I would ever feel comfortable yelling or outwardly showing my frustration to an alpha.

The academy taught me well, I think bitterly.

An omega is meant to submit. Never to disobey an alpha or even a beta. We are lesser and our respect for the other designations must override our true feelings.

My true feelings right now? Paul is acting weird as fuck, and I don't trust it. This worried father charade, if it's even real, isn't born of anything besides guilt. Or maybe he's just worried I'll throw myself out of the moving car if he doesn't keep an eye on me.

"I'm not hungry. Thank you, though," I reply hesitantly.

Lie.

"When's the last time you ate, Amaya?" Paul eyes me in the mirror.

It's the first time he's looked at me with something other than worry and pity. I see the lawyer beneath his fancy suit now; the part of him Ishouldprobably be wary of.

A sweat breaks out on my lower back making me itchy but I hold myself still and keep my gaze lowered. The only thing I don't do is cock my head to bare my throat in the wake of his dominant tone.

Progress.

"I ate breakfast at eight this morning," I murmur.

The leather steering wheel creaks beneath his grip. "That was six hours ago, Amaya!"

I flinch. I can't help it.

I barely notice the tickle of sweat dripping from my hairline or the way my hands begin to tremble, too shocked by his abrupt volume. Fighting the haziness that steals some of my vision and forcing air into my lungs, I miss the car pulling over.

A gush of hot air descends over my shaking body, then the seatbelt is being yanked away and arms are pulling me from thecar. If Paul wasn't disappointed by my earlier flinch, the scream that bursts from my throat sure as shit will do the trick.

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