Page 137 of Lavender and Honey

My father's expression hardens. "That's not true, Lydia. Everything we've done has been for your benefit, for your future."

"For the pack's future," I correct him. "Not mine. Never mine."

My mother's eyes narrow dangerously. "And what future do you imagine for yourself here?" she demands, sweeping her hand dismissively at the pack house, the surrounding land. "Playing shopkeeper? Living in this... commune? With no status, no security?"

I feel Elias's steady presence beside me, Finn's unwavering support, Lucian's protective stance. Their certainty feeds my own.

"I have more security here than I ever had with you," I tell her, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. "I have people who see me— who want me for who I am, not what I can do for them."

“So you would give everything up, to what, play house with a pack that can't even decide who their Alpha is? Or perhaps it's not about hierarchy at all— perhaps it's about something else entirely." Her implication hangs in the air, deliberately provocative.

I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but Lucian speaks before I can formulate a response.

"You're right about one thing," he says, his voice level despite the tension vibrating through him. "We don't operate like traditional packs. We don't force our members into predetermined roles based on outdated hierarchies." He steps closer to me, a solid presence at my side. "And we certainly don't trade them like commodities for political advantage."

My father's expression darkens. "You speak as if you understand our world, our traditions. But this isn't a game, Alpha." He emphasizes the title with a subtle mockery. "There are responsibilities that come with lineage. Obligations that cannot simply be cast aside because of... sentimentality."

"Responsibilities to whom?" Lucian challenges, his voice remaining steady even as I feel the tension radiating from him. "To packs that see Omegas as bargaining chips? To alliances built on treating people as assets rather than individuals?"

My mother's laugh is sharp, incredulous. "You truly don't understand, do you? This isn't about individuals. This is about survival, about strength, about ensuring our place in an increasingly hostile world." Her gaze shifts to me, calculating and cold. "Lydia knows this. She was raised understanding the importance of her position."

"I was raised to be obedient," I correct her, finding courage I didn't know I possessed. "To accept whatever arrangement you deemed most advantageous—regardless of what I wanted."

My mother makes a dismissive gesture. "What you want? Lydia, you've never known what you want. You've always been indecisive.”

"No," I say, my voice stronger than I've ever heard it. "I've always known what I wanted. I just wasn't allowed to voice it."

My mother's eyes narrow, that familiar look of calculation crossing her features. "And what is it you want, Lydia? To abandon your heritage? Your family? Everything we've built for you?"

"You didn't build anything forme," I reply, the truth of it resonating through my bones. "You built it foryourselves, for yourambitions. I was just a piece on your board."

"That'senough," my father interjects, his tone sharp. "This display is unbecoming. We came here to bring you home, not to engage in melodrama."

"She is home," Lucian says, his voice carrying the full weight of his authority as Alpha. "Lydia is pack now.Ourpack." I smile at his words, knowing what he said was true. I looked at my parents, head held high as I spoke.

"I want to stay here. With this pack. With these people who let me make my own choices." I say, my voice stronger than I expected as I looked my parents in the eye, not being the docile Omega they taught me to be.

My mother's face tightens, her practiced poise slipping just enough to reveal the fury beneath. "Thesepeople," she says, her tone dripping with disdain, "have filled your head with nonsense. Unrealistic ideas about how the world works." She takes a step toward me, but Lucian shifts slightly, a subtle movement that places him partially between us.

"The world works however we choose to make it work," Lucian says, his voice calm but unyielding. "And in our world, Lydia is free to choose her own path."

My father's laugh is short and humorless. "How very progressive," he says, his gaze sweeping over the assembled pack members with an unimpressed look on his face.

I took a deep breath knowing words I would say next could make or break me, “If I have to do something drastic to make you see that I am serious I will. I am not going anywhere but back inside this house with MY pack.”

The words hung in the air, everything going silent at my words. I was tired of being pushed around and I knew anydecision would be supported by these four men… so I had no reason to be scared anymore.

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Lucian stands there, so sure of his place in the world, with Finn and Elias beside him, a horizon of everything I have ever wanted. I look at my parents, at their useless conviction that I will leave all this behind. I see myself in a few months, dead-eyed and alone, wondering what my life could have been.

"If I ask you to mark me right here and now," I ask Lucian, "would you?" He doesn't speak, doesn't even seem to breathe. "I am willing to be a part of this pack." I pause, letting it sink in.

"I love you all," I add, an even deeper secret than the first. I don't want a life without them, and I'd rather do something drastic than lose it all.

I imagine the scene as it plays out in their minds, me throwing a fit and giving in, me begging for forgiveness, me back where they can watch over me, hidden away, unable to cause more embarrassment. It almost makes me laugh. If this were a few weeks ago, maybe. A few days ago, possibly. But not now. I know they see Lucian as just another Silvercrest. They think it's only amatter of time before his pack is just like theirs. They'll use this "meeting" as a way to pressure me to conform. My only regret is that they ever made me feel like they were right.

"We don't need to be this drastic, Lydia," my father says. It's a last-ditch attempt. He thinks he can reason with me, that if he keeps his voice even and calm, I'll see my mistake and quietly correct it. "You can make your choice. But you shouldn't make it out of anger."

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