Page 1 of Going Down Smooth: Part Two

ONE

MERCY

“Miss Smooth. . .”

I hear voices calling out to me, but I’m pulled under once more. The weight on my chest sends me down, down, down into the depths of my being. I can’t breathe. . .

I am still me. Same eyes, same nose, same untamed tresses, curly and wild, just the way I like it. I am still Mercy Smooth.

I clench the fists that rest on my knees, and release a slow breath, accompanied by measured blinks. I am still me. The only difference now is the hormones going haywire inside me. Despite my brain making me feel things I don’t quite understand, I persist that I am indeed still me. I am in control. Why wouldn’t I be?

The idea that Omegas can’t handle extremes, that we aren’t fit to handle the everyday stresses of the world. Yeah, that is utter bullshit. Yet here I am, sitting in the choir’s dressing room, staring back at myself. My brown skin is smooth, natural. I refuse to wear an ounce of makeup. If I am going to be handed over to my best friends like a box of fried chicken, then this is who they will get. Mercy, their Mercy. I look at myself in the mirror and divert my eyes. Ugh, I hate white. Yes, I am untouched, a virgin. The idea of being paraded around in front of guests at a ceremony I would rather skip, makes me feel dirty and used already.

I sigh.

“What about what I want?” I ask myself, not meaning to catch my mother’s look of disapproval in the mirror. I let my shoulders fall forward in defeat. I have asked this same question for weeks since my designation crash landed in my lap, changing my life forever. My mother tsks in frustration as she moves around the room we are in, waiting for the mating ceremony to begin. I glance up at the mirror again, catching my sister, Faith’s, eye roll.

“You should be grateful. You have Alphas who you are already comfortable with. Not all of us get that choice. So, stop complaining and accept your fate. Be glad they want someone as strong willed as you.” Faith frowns, something dark passes across her face, then she quickly glances away. She spots my floral headpiece made of white roses and walks over to me with it in her hands. I can only assume she is trying to distract herself from saying more or to distract me from asking her what the hell she means by any of that.

I sit up straight and look at my sister. She’s been mated for a year now and we’ve hardly seen her until recently. She reeks of her Alphas, their tainted scents offend my olfactory senses, making me scrunch up my nose. Dressed in a long sleeved, dark green turtleneck dress, she is completely covered, with a sleek high ponytail; Faith is perfection. There’s something though, something just doesn’t seem right, but maybe I’m seeing her differently because she’s been away for a while. Faith’s comment though. . .I shrug it off, for now at least. Her makeup is on the heavy side, which is new for her, but she’s still her beautiful self.

My mother claps her hands to get our attention. Faith stiffens with my wreath hovering over my head. My other sister, Grace, sits with her legs stretched out in front of her, her back against the arm of the couch in the corner, her face buried in her phone.

“I’m going to check in with your dads,” our mother says, as we all make the noncommittal hums of acknowledgement befitting two young adult women and a preteen. My mother stares at us, then mirrors Faith’s actions from earlier and rolls her eyes. I guess she’s had enough of our antics today. I shake my head. She wonders where we get it from.

“Miss Smooth!” someone shouts again as I regain consciousness. I’m coughing uncontrollably as I try to continue my journey to the ventilation grate on the side of the distillery wall. I drag my body along the floor as smoke and burning hot metal fly all around me. Each breath is labored. The acrid chemical smell burns my lungs with every inhalation. I know what too much smoke can do to a person. . . I know the longer I remain on the brewery floor. . .

I’m not going to make it. I can feel it. I keep passing out and know it is only a matter of time. I don’t know why my brain keeps taking me back to that moment in time, but I guess my thoughts are still laced with concern for Faith. Oh God, Faith. I collapse again, losing strength once more as I’m buried in my memories of five years ago. . . The day I ran.

“Mercy, I know you’re not happy, baby. But we’ve had this discussion for years when it was determined you were to present late. Now, we are here. You have a wonderful group of Alphas who already love you and are your friends. This should be a happy time. It’s what all of you wanted all along, now you can have it.” My mother smiles, as if her words are supposed to make me accept all of this and just be happy. I watch her slide out of the door and turn my gaze up to my older sister.

“Faith, are you okay?” I refuse to let that look on her face go. My sisters and I have always been outspoken, wild, and independent. No matter what my mother says about proper Omega decorum. But the light in my sister’s eyes has lost its luster, and honestly, I’m worried.

“I’m fine. Ignore me. It’s just an adjustment, being mated. Everyone has a different experience, and you will get used to your Alphas’ demands, urges, and needs,” Faith says as she comes to a stop behind me, no longer looking at me as she places the wreath to nestle it between my untamed curls.

“Demands, urges, and needs?” I question her, lifting my brow only to wince, hunching my shoulders as she stabs my scalp with a hairpin.

My hand goes up to shield my precious scalp from her assault and I grab her hand. “Ouch, Faith.” I hiss, sucking in a sharp breath through my teeth.

Faith looks up, lost in thought as she realizes with wide eyes that she’s stabbed me and shoots me an apologetic look through the mirror. She knocks my hand out of the way and adds a few more pins, careful not to decapitate me this time around.

“Yes, Mercy. You need to come to terms with the fact that you are no longer in control of what happens to you. All those dreams about running Dad’s company, going to college—none of that matters now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not pregnant in a month or two.” Faith shrugs, and my heart begins to beat wildly in my chest. She can’t be serious. I’ve worked too hard for it to all go up in smoke. . .

Smoke. . .

My eyes burn as I blink back tears, the black smoke is so thick, it blocks out the sunlight coming from the vent beyond. My ribs scream as I pull myself forward. Almost there, Mercy.

“Songbird!” I hear Trey’s voice.

“Merce!” Nate screams from somewhere far away.

“She is in there! God Damn it!” Knight bellows, and I can’t help but smile through my pain. He is so mad at me.

“Mouse! Mouse!” Lox shouts. “Fuck your protocol! That’s my life in that building. I would rather die trying to get to her, instead of waiting. She is still alive. I can feel it.”

“Hold on, Mercy baby!” Knight calls out.

I want to shout and call out to them, but my vocal cords are rubbed raw and all I can manage is a raspy whisper.

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