Page 32 of Daisy
I can hear them talking about me, but it sounds distant and muffled, like I'm underwater. My chest is so tight I feel like I'm suffocating. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision. I'm still wearing the torn silk nightgown from when the attack started, stained with dirt and things I don't want to think about.
"Fine," my guard says finally. "But we make it fast."
The van lurches forward again, but not for long. I hear the dangerous-looking one giving directions to the driver. "Two blocks east. Coffee shop on the corner."
A car door slams, and I hear footsteps on pavement. Voices outside the van, too muffled to make out words. My breathing is still too fast, too shallow, but the knowledge that there's a beta coming helps somehow.
When the back door of the van opens, I see exactly what I was hoping for—a beta. A tall, lean man with dark curls and gentle hazel-green eyes climbs inside. His scent hits me immediately—cedar and parchment with notes of bergamot, warm and scholarly and completely, utterly safe.
I burst into tears.
Not pretty tears. Ugly, broken sobs that tear out of my throat like they're taking pieces of me with them. All the terror and confusion and overwhelmingeverythingfrom the past few hours comes pouring out at once, and I can't stop it. Don't want to stop it.
"Oh, sweetheart," the beta says softly, and his voice is like warm honey. "It's okay. You're okay now."
He doesn't try to touch me, doesn't move closer. Just settles himself between me and the alphas, creating a barrier with his body that makes the tight feeling in my chest start to ease.
"I'm August," he says gently. "I know you don't know me, and I know you're scared. But I promise you, no one here is going to hurt you. I won't let them."
There's such quiet certainty in his voice that I almost believe him. Almost.
"They're alphas," I whisper, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "I don't... I can't..."
"I know." August's voice is infinitely patient. "Alpha scents can be overwhelming, especially in a small space like this. Especially after what you've been through."
"I need you to breathe with me, okay?" August says gently. "In for four counts. One, two, three, four. Now out for four. One, two, three, four."
I try to follow his rhythm, focusing on his calm voice instead of the overwhelming alpha presence around us. His beta scent helps ground me, gives me something neutral to anchor to.
"Good," he says softly. "Again. In for four. Out for four."
After a few rounds, my breathing starts to slow, the tight band around my chest loosening slightly.
"Better?" he asks, and I nod shakily.
"Why do their scents..." I trail off, not sure how to put it into words. How do I explain that underneath the terror, there's something about their scents that calls to me? Something thatfeels like recognition, like coming home to a place I've never been?
"Feel safe?" August suggests gently, though he looks just as confused as I feel. "Even though you're scared?"
"Yes," I breathe. "I don't understand it. They're not... overpowering like other alphas. They're all different but they seem to... fit together somehow. And I like them, which makes no sense."
"I don't understand it either," August admits softly. "But maybe that's okay for now. Maybe understanding isn't what matters right now." He leans back against the side of the van. "Right now, all you need to do is breathe and rest. We're going to drive somewhere safe, and I'm going to stay right here between you and them the whole time. Is that okay?"
I look past him to where the alphas are watching our interaction with expressions I can't read. My guard looks like he's in pain. The dangerous one looks frustrated but resigned. The one in the front passenger seat has turned back around. The driver's eyes in the mirror are watchful but kind.
"They saved me," I say, and it comes out like a question.
"They did," August confirms.
"From the rogue alpha. From the Omega House." Another piece clicks into place. "The Omega House is gone, isn't it?"
"Damaged," my guard says quietly. "Maybe not gone, but... not safe anymore."
Not safe anymore.Which means I can't go back. Can't return to my pristine room with its silk wallpaper and crystal chandelier. Can't pretend that smiling and nodding and being the perfect omega will keep me safe, because it didn't.
"What happens to me now?" I ask, and my voice sounds very small in the confined space of the van.
"That's up to you," August says, and there's something revolutionary in those four simple words. "You get to choose."
