Page 76 of Bonds of Hate

I watch as she coils a strand of my hair and a perfect curl bounces down my chest. “And what is it we know that they don’t?”

“That we play the cards we’re dealt, just like everybody else. Pack Nikolai has a reputation for being calm and rational. Their scents are nice enough, and I know they won’t hurt me.” She shrugs off this revelation of emotional detachment from the mates who just marked her as if it isn’t devastating in its implication. This sort of talk would have gotten us stripped naked and publicly whipped at the Enclave. “Sure, I could have waited around for the pack that would set my world on fire, but I’d have probably ended up claimed against my will or slaving for the Enclave to pay my debt like so many of our dusty, old instructors. I chose the best of the available options and I refuse to feel even a shred of guilt about it.”

“You really don’t think that perfect pack is out there waiting for you?”

“I think perfection is a lie that the Enclave sold us to keep us under control.” Saffron sets down the curling iron and reaches for a handful of bobby pins. Her fingers work so fast that it’s hard to keep track of them as she fastens some curls up in a fancy half-updo. “But we’re the ones getting rarer and rarer. We are the perfection and we have the DNA to prove it.” Picking up a vibrant curl, sheshakes it in front of my face. “Your hair is fucking purple. That’s pretty damn unique. These Alphas might tell themselves they’re the ones who interviewed us. But, let’s be honest. If you walked away from them right now, Pack Logan will never find another Omega just like you. Meanwhile, Melilla is basically drowning in spoiled princes.”

I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “That’s a long way of saying suck it up, buttercup.”

“Then you haven’t been listening,” she deadpans. “Think of King Leopold and the old queen.”

The royal love story is a popular fairytale at the Enclave, told to us several times with some variation depending on the instructor relaying it. The core of it is always the same, but just how romantic of a story it is depends entirely on your perspective.

Everyone knows that before Leopold became the great unifier of Melilla, he was the regent of a tiny city-state in the north. He coveted a beautiful Omega from across the sea who had refused his offer of marriage. Leopold gathered an army and waged the Restoration War for years until he had conquered or destroyed everyone who dared stand between them.

The secret part of the story, that only the bravest of our instructors would whisper in our ears, is that Midale had refused every suitor when they could not promise her the world. She was the true instigator of the greatest war in recent history.

Leopold had wanted her, but she demanded a crown. So he burned down the world and made her queen of what rose from the ashes.

Saffron’s reflection in the mirror smirks at me as I realize the point she is trying to make.

Pack Logan controls me, and we have a signed contract to prove it. But that isn’t the way it has to be. There are methods I could use to take back some of that control, manipulate their Alpha biology against them to get what I need.

Midale’s ruthlessness changed the world, and she didn’t even need to lift a finger.

Saffron is the one who finally says it out loud.

“We have power. They just don’t want us to know it, because it’s the most dangerous power there is.”

Logan, Ares, and Poe linger outside the apartment, obviously waiting for my arrival. Even from the other end of the hallway, I sense their impatient annoyance. Saffron had insisted that my hair needed a collection of crystal-studded hairpins arranged in the shape of a tiara across the crown of my head to match my royal theme. Arranging the pins had taken an extra twenty minutes that we didn’t have, but I agreed it would be worth it to keep the Alphas waiting.

I pause at the end of the hallway, taking in the three Alphas before they’ve noticed my approach because they face away from me.

Ares is half-collapsed against the wall in obvious boredom. Poe tosses a bare blade into the air and somehow catches it without cutting himself before throwing it into the air again. Even from a hundred yards away, I see thetension in Logan’s shoulders as he checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time.

“This is ridiculous.” Logan’s voice echoes off the marble floors and oak-paneled walls. “How long does it take to put on a dress and slap on some makeup?”

Poe balances his blade on the tip of one finger. “We have an Omega now. Waiting on a primping princess just comes with the territory.”

“If she’s not here in two fucking minutes—“ Logan’s threat dies as his shoulders tense in sudden awareness.

He turns and spots me, nostrils flaring as he deeply inhales.

I put a slight swing in my step to make the gown shift alluringly around my hips. Logan’s gaze immediately tracks over my body, doing a slow scan from my shoulders to my toes with an unreadable expression on his face.

I take my time walking toward them, letting the silk of Queen Midale’s gown whisper against the floor. The silvery-blue fabric catches the light with each step, making it appear as if I’m floating on starlight. Saffron’s expert styling has transformed my hair into an elegant cascade of curls that are pulled half-up to frame my face, with tiny crystals woven throughout that match the dress’s delicate beading.

Logan’s golden eyes widen, his mouth slightly parted. For once, that predatory gaze holds something besides cold calculation. Beside him, Ares lets out a low whistle while Poe’s dark eyes gleam with the satisfaction of a well-kept secret finally revealed.

Ares is the first to break the silence. “Is that one of the queen’s gowns?”

“It is,” Poe replies easily, as if he didn’t just pick at hisown scars to make this happen. “Figured this might be a little better than the servant’s sack she was wearing before.”

This might be the first time I’ve ever seen Logan entirely speechless. A muscle ticks in his jaw as he watches me approach.

“You’re late,” he finally manages, but the words lack their usual bite.

I pitch my voice to a low purr as I come to stand beside him and deliberately bow my head. “My apologies, Alpha. I wanted to ensure I looked as good as possible for you.”

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