Page 4 of Laurels and Liquor

“If you have the fucking nerve to eventhinkthe words ‘I told you so’ right now, Mateo Hutchenson, I will shove this bottle so far up your ass—”

“Nowthere’ssomething I wouldn’t mind seeing,” Lex comments as she enters.

Mateo and I both whip around to face her as she crosses toward us. She snatches the bottle out from my grip and takes a swig, grimacing at first, but then she goes in for a second, longer pull.

“What’d Leo want?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes and hands me the bottle. Mateo lets out a surprised choking cough, his eyes wide as he looks at Lex.

“Your dad called? When?” he splutters, retreating a step back unconsciously.

Lex shakes her head and sighs. “Just now. But I’m handling it,” she says simply.

I give her a sharp look, and her cheeks flush pink. The liquor makes my head fuzzy, and my patience that much thinner.

“And you’re going to tell us how,” I prompt, not bothering to keep the patronizing tone out of my voice.

“Yeah, I will. Just… not today, not right now. He’s tomorrow’s problem,” she returns heavily.

“And what’s today’s problem?” Mateo drones.

Lex looks around before her eyes come to rest on the basement door, eyes softening and mouth pulling down in a little frown. “Lydia,” she whispers, the single word full to the brim with emotion.

We all exchange a look before setting into motion. Without needing to speak, we gather bottled water and other easy provisions and move as a unit downstairs. The door to Lydia’s room is cracked, and the air is quiet, which is a bit of a relief. We set down our supplies on her vanity before shedding excess layers and hesitantly crawling onto the oversized mattress that is Lydia’s bed and nest. The only clue to our omega’s location is the slow rising and falling of one particular lump of blankets, and she doesn’t move as we settle in around her. Mateo slides his arms under and lifts her into his lap, holding her close. Lex leans against a pile of pillows nearby, and I squeeze into the space between them. One of my hands finds Lydia’s back, my thumb rubbing idly against the soft emerald green material she burrowed into while my other hand wraps around Lex’s ankle. We don’t speak, and Mateo’s eyes drift closed, his face buried in the space where I assume Lydia’s neck would be. Lex stares off into the middle distance, in her own head again. I want to do something to bring her back, but I’m loathe to disturb the silence. So I close my eyes and let the exhaustion sweep over me.

But as I do, my heart aches. Even with four people, there’s still too much space without Rhett here. He’d run his hands through my hair and purr for me, and I’d know everything was going to be okay. Rhett always steadies me, and without him, my soul is like a toy boat adrift in a hurricane. But I need to find the strength to go on, because Lex needs me. And Lydia needs me. I can’t let this family down.

Chapter three

Lydia

Clayandtobaccofillthe air, invading every corner of my mind. Muddy brown eyes staring at me through the mirror, his hand on my neck, holding me down.

“What the fuck is this?”

I can’t speak, can’t move to fight him off. He cuts my dress, not stopping at the lace but slicing everything away until I’m naked and shivering.

“These sorts of marks only go skin deep. But don’t worry. I can fix that.”

Ripping, shredding pain, like the night he tried to force the bond on me. But this time, he’s carving away my pack tattoo, the symbol of my new family, my new beginning. But I should have known better, should have known I could never escape him.

“Omega whore.”

The words ring in my ears as I fall forward, no longer supported by the sink. My knees hit the ground, and I’m looking down at Rhett, his golden blond hair stained with blood, ice-blue eyes open but not seeing.

A blast of heat, and the world erupts into flames. Omega whore. Letters outlined against the blaze, the accusation, the truth. I look back at Rhett’s cold, pale face, the knife, Darren’s knife in my hand.

“You did this.”

I look down as the hissing whisper bounces around me, stinging and biting like so many blood-thirsty insects. My hands drip with blood, Rhett’s blood. I try to move my arm, to throw the blade away, but I can’t let go.

“You did this.”

It’s Alexandra’s voice. I failed her, broke my promise. I told her I’d bring us all home, and I failed.

I open my mouth to scream, but no matter how hard I try, no sound I make can drown out the voices.

“Omega whore.”

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