Page 93 of Lavender and Honey

The implication turns my stomach. That my resistance was somehow part of the appeal, a feisty Omega to be conquered rather than a person making a clear statement of refusal. I swallow hard against the bile rising in my throat.

"I said no a year ago. I'm saying no now. Nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed," my mother counters, her voice hardening. "You've had your little adventure, your taste of independence. But it's time to think about your future, Lydia.Your real future, not this..." she gestures around the shop, "...fantasy you've constructed."

"My future is here," I insist, though I hear the way my voice wavers slightly. "I'm not going back to a pack that sees me as nothing more than a broodmare or a status symbol."

She clicks her tongue, a sound of exaggerated patience that sets my teeth on edge. "Such melodrama. The Greene pack is one of the most respected traditional packs in the region. Alpha Greene could have any Omega he wanted, yet he's specifically requested you. Do you have any idea what an honor that is?"

"It's not an honor," I say, the words escaping before I can stop them. "It's a prison sentence."

My mother's eyes narrow dangerously. "Mind your tone, Lydia. I didn't raise you to be disrespectful." No, you raised me to be obedient. Compliant. The perfect Omega daughter to cement your social standing. The thoughts burn in my mind, but old habits die hard. I press my lips together, falling back into the familiar pattern of silent endurance that was my primary defense mechanism growing up.

My phone buzzes again on the counter, the screen lighting up with another message from the group chat. My mother's gaze flicks to it, a predatory sharpness entering her eyes.

"You've made friends here," she observes, the statement carrying an undercurrent of threat. "Hownicefor you."

I resist the urge to snatch the phone away, to hide this one precious link to the life I've been building. "Yes," I say simply, offering nothing more.

"Temporary attachments," she dismisses with a wave of her hand. "Nothing compared to the security and status a proper pack would provide."

The security of a cage. The status of a possession. But again, the retort remains unspoken. I've spent too many years learning that direct confrontation with my mother only leads to morecutting remarks, more emotional wounds that take weeks to heal.

"I'm not interested in the Greene pack," I repeat instead, my voice flat. "Or any pack arrangement you've made without my consent."

My mother sighs again, this one heavier, laden with performative regret. "Your father and I have only ever wanted what's best for you, Lydia. Sometimes that means making difficult decisions, steering you away from... unfortunate choices."

The familiar refrain—that they know better, that their control is for my own good—washes over me like an old, scratchy sweater I've long outgrown. Once, those words had the power to make me doubt myself, to question my own judgment. Now they just sound hollow.

"I'm twenty-four years old," I say quietly. "I'm capable of making my own choices."

"Are you?" Her gaze sweeps over me again, lingering pointedly on my neck where my scent gland is visible, unmasked by blockers. "Walking around with your Omega status on display like some common—"

She cuts herself off, but the implication hangs in the air between us. Some common whore. The unspoken slur stings more than it should, striking at insecurities I thought I'd begun to overcome.

"I suggest you reconsider your position," my mother continues, her voice cooling to that diplomatic tone she uses when delivering ultimatums dressed as advice. "The Greene pack won't wait forever, Lydia. And neither will your father and I."

The implied threat—that I could be cut off completely, declared no longer their daughter—should terrify me. A year ago, it might have. But standing here in my shop, with messagesfrom people who care about the real me lighting up my phone, the prospect carries less weight than she intends.

"I'm not coming back," I say again, the words steadier this time. "You've wasted your time coming here."

My mother's eyes narrow, a flash of genuine anger breaking through her composed facade. "We'll see about that," she says, the words carrying a chill that settles in my bones despite the morning warmth. "This little... experiment of yours has gone on long enough, Lydia. It's time to grow up and accept your responsibilities."

Responsibilities. The word hangs between us, laden with all the expectations and limitations that drove me to flee in the first place. To be a dutiful Omega daughter. To mate with an Alpha of their choosing. To produce pups and enhance the family's standing. To erase myself in service to their ambitions.

"I have responsibilities," I say, thinking of my shop, my customers, the four men who are somehow becoming the center of my world. "Just not the ones you chose for me."

My phone buzzes one more time, the sound seeming to echo in the tense silence between us. My mother's gaze flicks to it again, calculation evident in the slight narrowing of her eyes.

I knew that this conversion was long from over and I could be stuck in my shop arguing with her all day.

I hoped it didn't’ come down to that. I don’t think I was mentally prepared. Not anymore.

Chapter Fifty-Six

My mother's words hang in the air between us, each syllable like a tiny barb designed to hook into my skin and drag me back into line. My hands tremble against the counter's edge, but a different sensation builds in my chest—an uncomfortable heat that spreads upward, burning away the familiar fear and leaving something rawer, something that tastes like rage on the back of my tongue. I've swallowed these words for years, pushed them down until they formed a hard knot in my stomach. But now, standing in my own shop, with messages from people who actually care about me lighting up my phone, something inside me finally, irrevocably breaks.

"This conversation is over," I say, the words emerging steadier than I expect. "I've built a life here that I'm proud of. I'm not abandoning it to be sold off to the highest bidder."

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