Page 31 of Beg for It

I know I’m stupid. I can’t do anything right. No matter what, I’ve always been doomed to fail from the start.

Again and again my body heaves as I bring up the pills. No. No, I don't want this. I want to tell them to leave me alone, to let me die. I want to fucking die!

I don’t get the chance to because soon the darkness takes over, doing the job for me.

This is it, sweet relief.

CHAPTERSEVEN

HENLEY

Where are you, Little Rabbit?

Brooks called me after the game to tell me every delicious, fucked up detail about how he made Camden cum against the wall of the equipment shed. I’m sure my pack mate will smirk with amusement every time he passes by it now. It’s what I’d do.

I don’t know why the little beta chose Crown Well Academy to attend for his schooling, but we are thoroughly enjoying his presence. I want to tease him about his dirty little orgasm with Brooks. From the way Brooks relayed the details, Camden wanted him. He just hated the fact that he did. It makes me want to push him into possibly giving me a blow job, to see just how much he hates to want us. Which is why I’m getting increasingly annoyed that I can’t find him.

I’m a little jealous Brooks and River have gotten such a delicious taste of his fear and cum. I can’t wait for my turn. Honestly, I’m happy for my pack. We have a perfect little distraction from the stresses of school life, something only Brooks has typically because he plays football.

I think he’d be the worst of us all otherwise.

Thankful I can easily walk into the beta dorms, I stalk the little rabbit through the hallways to his bedroom. He doesn’t have a roommate according to the records I’ve looked up, which means he can happily hole up alone in his room.

Personally, I understand the need for solace, since I enjoy my alone time too. I simply don’t believe he deserves any as a liar and the son of a killer. Once we have our way, every second of every day will be filled with us pushing him to take our cocks.

I can see no better way to get our revenge. Maybe we’ll even take photos and tease him about releasing them to his father. We never would, but his fear is so delicious. Getting him killed would shorten our fun.

Picking the lock on his dorm room door, I slip inside, surprised to find it empty.

“Little Beta, where are you?” I ask, frowning in thought. The room has an air of recent vacancy, as if he just left.

His books are scattered on the table, his bed unmade against the wall with fluffy blankets that remind me of different textures. Feeling like a creeper, my brow wrinkles as I reach out to touch the blankets, also noting the fairy lights strung up in the room in lieu of harsh light bulbs.

What’s going on here?This room reminds me of a teen girl’s bedroom, complete with a candle that smells like… chamomile? Holding it in my hand as I breathe the scent in deeply, I shake my head.

This little beta is very strange.

Continuing to snoop, I skip the desk to check out his closet. Here, there are more fairy lights, pillows propped up inside, as well fluffy blankets in a tight corner. What’s so odd about it to me is that it feels like a designated area, because the clothes are all on one side of the closet to give Camden space to settle into the corner.

Why the closet, though?

I’m concerned about all of this. Betas don’t behave like this. The fairy lights are fine, if he wants low light and the aesthetic, but there’s even a book lying on top of the blankets in the closet!

This is bizarre. My mind is reeling with possibilities, one of which is if he suffers from severe anxiety. It kind of makes sense if he’s literally shutting out the world, but I feel as if that’s only part of the puzzle.

Muttering under my breath, I turn away from the closet to face the rest of the room. There has to be some other clue to tell me what I’m missing about Camden Parker.

“So many secrets,” I mutter, seeing something spilled over a textbook and his desk. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be this messy.

It makes sense that he’s secretive as Leroy’s son. He’s probably used to keeping them from his homophobic father as well. It’s a miracle he’s been able to survive to make it to the academy.

The rest of the room seems to have a reason for any clutter it may have. It feels comfortable and lived in. Walking over to the messy desk area, I hiss as I see the pills that are spilled out.

“Oh you stupid boy, what have you been up to?” I ask myself, picking up the almost empty container where the pills used to live in.

Gazing at the label on the bottle, I pull out my phone to look up what these pills are. While they’re prescription pills, it almost feels as if they’re a cheaper version of them. I’m even further confused when I see that they’re a type of knock off suppressant.

The issue is that there’s a lot of pills spilled out on the table, almost as if he was in a panic to take his next dose. We’re going to have a problem if he has an addiction to these. Is it even possible to get high from suppressants?

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