Page 3 of Sweetheart: Part One

It was lush to the extreme, and there was an omega buried deep within me who might, once upon a time, have lost it to excitement, even stepping foot past the door.

This was the home of my mates.

My idols.

The Crimson Fury pack.

But the woman I’d become—the one broken over and over, worn thin and tired—she didn’t see any of that. Instead, all I felt when Rob shut the door behind me was an earth-shattering relief. Not at the building, or glamour, or because the marble beneath my feet was the home of my mates. But because it was the first time in months, there was a solid, safe wall between me and the pack who’d stolen my freedom.

“They live upstairs,” Rob was saying as I stared around numbly. “Downstairs are the offices, main kitchen, garage—the practical stuff.”

“Where will I be?”

“The Sweetheart room is central on the second floor with the pack.”

I nodded.

He bustled me into a small conference room that overlooked vast gardens from a window spanning the far wall.

"They'll be in to see you..." He checked his phone. "Whenever they decide to show."

I nodded, trying not to hug myself as my throat tightened.

They were coming.

I'd seenthem once at a signing I’d snuck into. I’d been on scent blockers, so the scent match between us had locked in with them none the wiser, and I'd fled without speaking to them. But nowtheywere here to seeme.

"You are going to be their destruction."Those were words from the men who owned me. And I was a foolish, lying omega who—for the second time—would deceive this pack I’d once been in love with.

With my panic, rose that familiar horror. The cycle of memories that ripped me from reality whenever I gave them an ounce of power.

I’d been locked in that horrible cell for an eternity in silence but for my own singing. It was in those times I could feel my mother here with me. I wanted her so badly it shook me to my bones.

After more days than I could count, I was blindfolded and dragged from the room.

"Get yourself pretty, or I’ll do it for you." The command was dispassionate as the blindfold was ripped off. I’m sure it was my fear, but the alpha before me smelled like gross old wheatgrass. He wore a mask that covered his face, but I could see his hazel eyes intent on me right now.

I glanced around nervously to find I was in a bathroom. A bath was hot and waiting for me.

The alpha didn’t leave, folding his arms as he waited; the gun at his belt was an unhidden threat.

When I’d climbed in at last, I was still dressed, and I only removed my old clothing once I was submerged.

I didn’t look over at him as I dropped each sopping item onto the floor, but I heard his snort.

I’d been with men before, but I’d stayed away from alphas, leaving them where they belonged for a gold pack omega like me: in day dreams. Wheatgrass was clearly here to make sure I didn't try to escape, but every time I felt his attention on me, his leer burned hotter than the scalding water.

Safe now, and in the home of my mates, my chest felt too tight. My vision dimmed. Spots of black blossomed to match the abstract art that stretched across the walls.

My fingers fumbled for the epoxy river desk, and I dropped into one of the seats.

If I failed here, the threat was clear by the commands I’d been given only hours ago.

“You’ll never tell them you’re an omega. You’ll never tell them you’re their scent match. And never, under any circumstances, will you let them learn that you’re a gold pack omega.” His commands had settled on me like a weight. The voice of a man I’d come to hate more than I knew it was possible to hate someone.

“Why?” I asked.

“Your mates are an elite pack. Their reputationistheir life. Bonding a gold pack omega like you would ruin them. If they want you—and that’s a big if—they’ll want to hide those eyes of yours. That secret is the most important bargaining chip you have, besides your scent match.”

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