Page 9 of Brandy Snap: Part One

Cas twisted his hand so he clutched my fingers instead.

“Not a fucking chance. I’ll kill any omega that tries to push you out.”

“Hm, like the Hiscox pack?” I asked, tilting my head with a sarcastic smile.

He froze, darkness clouding him as he realised what he said.

“No,” he snapped. “Not like Hiscox pack. It was a fucking figure of speech, Kai. Don’t be such a dick.”

“We can’t do this to Camille,” Sin said plainly, stepping in beside us to inspect Cas’s hand. He wasn’t rolling around with anger and frustration like Cas and me, though it bubbled at his edges.

I swallowed my swarm of shitty emotions as I met Sin with a determined voice. “If it’s for Camille,” I echoed like an idiot.

They both knew I was talking out of my ass.

Even if it was to protect Camille from being murdered, there was no way I was agreeing to have another omega join our pack, male or female. I didn’t care how far I had to go. The main reason I met Sin was because of the things I had to do in fashion school to get me on national television. Once you’d sliced someone with a drawing compass, it was easy to do it again.

And I had way more in store for any bitch looking to get their claws in my alphas.

Melanie

“Comeon,Mel.Justcome out with us. It’s one night, it won’t hurt.” Lucielle nudged my shoulder with hers, grinning at me. We’d both just entered the staff room, where our coworkers were taking their seats. Though she was the manager of the fifty people that made up the cleaning teams at Knottinghill Spa, she was good at making friends along the way.

“But I’m visiting Mum after work, and I’m on an early shift tomorrow,” I said, twisting my lips with a guilty look.

“Well, come after you’ve visited, then. I’m working this weekend too—we all are. It’s a Friday night and we need to celebrate!”

Lucielle was one of those ‘life of the party’ types. She’d been that way since we became friends in high school. Her wiry black curls and bright sunshine smile had never changed, whereas I grew heavier over the years, both physically and emotionally, mostly after Mum’s stroke.

I loved going out with Lucielle, but it had been nearly six months since I’d actually done anything like that.

“I can’t really afford to.” I could barely cover my food costs, and I’d asked for an advance from work too many times.

“No worries! My friends and I know this super cheap beta bar, and we can do pre-drinks beforehand.”

“But—”

“Mel,” she burst out. I flinched as heads in the staff room turned to us. “Stop making excuses and just come out with us!”

I opened my mouth to reply, but I suddenly realised I was acting like my sister.

Rosa always had an excuse for every little thing and she would fight nonstop to make sure she got her way, especially when she didn’t want to do something.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” I said. It was easier to cancel on her at the end of the day than argue with her. Which is exactly what my sister did…

It just got harder and harder to come up with reasons why I shouldn’t enjoy myself.

“You better!” she laughed before striding to the front of the room, slipping on her manager’s hat.

“Alright, cleaning team!” she called, clapping her hands as the room fell into silence, and I took my seat. “Here’s the schedule for this week.” She tapped the whiteboard to her left. “We’re mostly looking at ground floor work again, so Team A, I want you down there.”

They split us into three teams. As a member of Team A, I had the joy of being the first to enter the empty nests of our clients. Richmond House at Knottinghill Spa was for packs who wanted a space for their omegas to go through their heat in comfort and privacy, while being provided with everything they needed. Knottinghill prided itself on running the most exclusive establishments in the country, not only offering packs heat suites and other luxury treatments at their Spas, but allowing guests to live out their fantasies at the Studios, and offering night and daytime entertainment at their Clubs in the city.

Which was a great marketing speech, but it didn't change the fact that the main thing Knottinghill sold was sex.

Plus, the guests never knew how much work we had to do when they left.

Most of my job was cleaning up after the hosts—the alphas, betas, and omegas guests purchased to fuck whenever they wanted. They were called whores by guests, who never thought about the fact that hosts were all people that were forced to sell themselves. And we all acted like it was a normal business because the staff needed the work, too.

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