Page 97 of Broken Omega

“You’re being melodramatic,” I warn myself, gaze moving upward as another car enters the lot.

The guy’s going way too fast, and he barely slows down to park … yet, somehow, he makes a great job of it. That’s cocky Alpha behavior at its most arrogant. He thinks he can do anything, so he does.

I watch him exit the car, whistling to himself. He glances at my parking job and shakes his head.

I slide down in the seat. This is why I didn’t want to have to wait in the car.

He passes, and I consider getting out.

I’ve still got at least ten minutes, so I force myself to wait.

Another car arrives, and another.

The minutes tick down excruciatingly slowly.

I leave the car when there are ten other cars in the lot.

There’s a group of Alphas on the staircase when I get around there.

Still waiting to get in then. Damn it.

I pace around at the bottom of the steps, listening idly to the other Alphas griping about being made to wait around like a bunch of morons. I’m not the only guy with nervous energy, it seems. That makes me feel a little better.

The doors open when the final Alpha arrives.

He has a smirk on his face, and it honestly looks like the doors opened once the guards caught sight of him, as if he’s the one they were waiting for the arrival of.

“Ballroom’s straight ahead. There are place markers at the table,” the older guard tells us as we enter. “Bathroom’s to the right, outside of the ballroom.”

He repeats the instructions, so I’ve heard them a few times before I even get to the doors.

Every Alpha heads straight for the ballroom. They take their time, but they don’t stop to look at anything. I check to the right, so I can see where the bathrooms are before I step into the ballroom behind the others.

My heart is hammering as I step into the room.

There are a dozen Omegas in pretty dresses sitting around a long table.

My gaze zeroes in on the blonde in red instantly.

I know it’s her, and I can’t help but stare.

Her hair is shorter than it was when we were younger. It’s cut just above her shoulders now.

Her expression is pinched, but I’d recognize those pretty eyes anywhere.

This woman is my true mate. Fate led me to this moment. It brought both of us here.

She doesn’t look over as I approach. She’s clearly annoyed about something.

“That fucking dickhead,” she mutters, her gaze fixed on the Alpha who arrived just before the doors opened.

I’m glad to see my name on the place in front of hers. Taking my seat, I try to think of something to say to capture Brooke’s attention. She seems to be watching the other Alpha as if she’s ready to pick up her steak knife and filet him.

The woman at the head of the table gets to her feet and clinks a spoon against her champagne glass. I recognize her as Geraldine Sawyer’s replacement, Edith Merritt.

“A toast to new friends and hope for the future.”

The Alpha Brooke has been staring at answers with a loudly pronounced, “I’ll drink to that.”

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