Page 57 of One for the Money
“Just because he was your scent match doesn’t mean he’s not a person,” Matteo says quietly. “And people can be shitty. They can be corrupt. It doesn’t stop them from being an awful person.”
“It certainly does not. Those three said it was my duty as an Omega, that I was irresistible. They were only Alphas; they weren’t responsible for their actions. It was my fault for not doing my duty as their Omega. I couldn’t live that way anymore. Every night, their hands…” A loud, feral sound escapes from Jude as he shoves himself to his feet and starts to pace the small space, making me shiver and not in an entirely bad way.
“Anyway, things got worse, way worse, when I went on heavy-duty suppressants to hide my pheromones entirely. I’m pretty sure they were close to killing me that night. That’s when I began making a plan to escape. I knew I had my out when I saw the job posting for Cirque de Mordu.”
“And so you fled,” Jude says tightly. I break eye contact with Dexter for the first time and nod at the big showrunner.
“Yeah. I managed to gather as much cash as I could without it raising red flags during the time we negotiated my contract, packed up clothes that I was going to donate, and left as soon as we set my start date. A pro bono lawyer reviewed the contract, as I couldn’t risk you kicking me out, but it only took her a day to get back to me. I was able to hold on that extra day.”
“So you lied. About your parents, then.” I can’t tell if he’s mad or not, but it seems like he is. I shudder and drag my gaze back to Dexter, pleading with him to understand my choice to withhold the truth from Jude.
“Yes. Can you blame me for lying? I come with drama and baggage that would have caused you to kick me out immediately.”
“We’d never throw an abused woman out,” Quinton says quietly. He’s calmed down since he first woke up, and his coloring is better. “None of us.”
“Not like it’s much safer here,” I mutter before I can stop myself. I think my fever is coming back because I usually can hold my tongue better.
Jude stops his pacing and turns the full force of his Alpha attention on me. “What the fuck does that mean?” Just when I thought I couldn’t curl up any tighter, I manage to, attempting to hide from his anger. The big guy takes a few deep breaths and speaks again. “Did someone hurt you? That night that I found you in the tub?”
“Yes,” Matteo and Quinton chorus. The two exchange a look, and Matteo continues, “We saw her with a massive bump on her forehead.”
“In the tub?” Dario asks, face scrunched up. “What tub?”
“Your ice tubs,” Jude tells him, wringing his hands as he paces the short length of the trailer. “I came out at three in the morning, and she was standing in it fully clothed, looking rattled as hell, but she never told me what happened. I didn’t want to push, and she wasn’t talking, so I just assumed…”
“Alphas will always try to take what isn’t offered to them,” I whisper, looking down at my feet. “You scared them off, though, so thanks for that.”
The trailer goes deadly silent.
For what feels like minutes but is probably only a few heartbeats, no one speaks.
Pheromones press in on me from every side, heavy weights that drag me deeper into my fear, and I start towhine as their scents shift from delectable to disgusting. Burnt, bitter, rotten, and greasy notes have me wrinkling my nose and holding back a sneeze.
There’s no telling who moves first, who reacts first, because one moment they’re all frozen and the next they’re talking at once, five voices bombarding me with questions.
“What did they do?”
“Did you recognize their voices?”
“How many were there?”
“Did they try torapeyou?”
“How did you get that bump on your head?”
I can’t think straight, can’t function, and they’re all shouting. At each other. At me. Trying to get answers, trying to make a plan for how to find out who attacked me.
I can’t take it anymore. There’s no way I can be in this small space with so many angry voices. I’m overstimulated and under-rested, and the stomach flu I’m still fighting is making my gut churn.
I have to get out of here.
As they’re distracted plotting revenge for a crime they weren’t privy to, I slip against the wall of the trailer. When I make it to the door, Dexter’s eyes whip to mine.
I expect him to call attention to me, to let everyone know that I’m trying to escape, to ensure that I am a prisoner of my scent matches once again.
Except he looks at me with a surprisingly gentle expression and nods tightly, turning back to the conversation, and keeping the attention off of me, allowing me to leave undetected.
It only takes me a minute or so to make it to my trailer when I’m at a full run. Fears of Alphas jumping out of their beds, chasing me down, overlay reality as I try to keep my wits about me.
