Page 3 of Pack Owned
Or maybe I’m just paranoid. Reading into his over-friendliness. I am trying not to squirm away or gag from the smell.
His hand rests on my knee, squeezing in warning. “We’ll continue this later,” he threatens.
Revulsion twists my gut. I leap up, dashing to the bathroom, just as the vomit hits my tongue.
CHAPTER 1
KAYLA
Istare up at the watermarks on the ceiling, tracing the lines with my mind to calm down as my heart slams against my ribcage, waiting for the sound I dread.
Him.
My stepfather’s footsteps approach my room later tonight.
Hate and fear tangle in my throat, choking me. Stupid, traitorous tears slip down my cheeks, and I scrub them away as his words from last night play on auto-repeat in my head over and over again.
“Tomorrow’s Friday…and your mom’s working late at the restaurant.” The reek of alcohol from his breath had scorched my nose.
Now, I gaze up at the ceiling, memorizing the patterns, knowing that the moment my mom leaves for work, I’ll bolt my door and hide from him.
A hard swallow forces down the bile, and I clench my fists so tight in the blankets that my nails dig into my palms. Months ago, I learned that mouthing back only earned me a fresh palette of bruises, now well-hidden by long sleeves. My closet’s a graveyard of tank tops and spaghetti straps.
The hiss of Mom’s shower turning on has nausea surging into my throat, and I’m on my feet, staggering for the toilet, heaving before my knees hit the tile.
If I scream out the truth to the authorities, I could get a premature ticket to the Nexus Facility and trade one prison for another.
And Mom? She’d be left alone to face his fury. That’s not an option. He’s made it crystal clear—he’ll turn her world into a nightmare if I so much as whisper the truth.
And even if I did tell Mom…. she’s a Beta and wouldn’t understand. She’s told me too many stories about my grandmother being an Omega and how she thinks my being one, too, is the most amazing thing that can happen to me. But being on this pedestal my whole life is like being locked up. Everywhere I go, there’s always someone watching me, like I can’t breathe without permission.
What can Mom do, anyway? Every day, she drags herself back home, tossing her hard-earned cash to keep him sedated with booze and false peace. Paying for the crusty charm and attention, as he lies to her, and she eats it up. While part of me blames myself for Gary trying anything with me.
Being in this house when he’s here is as suffocating as a straitjacket. I hate him.
Leaning against the cool, tiled bathroom wall, my stomach curdles. The idea of another day playing the part of the cherished Omega, smiling pretty while dodging my stepdad’s creepy advances—no thanks. The toilet’s flush is a rush of defiance in the silent room. I’ve had enough of the cage, no matter how gilded it is.
I can’t do it. I can’t stay here and let him— My cell phone vibrates from my room, and I scramble to it, clinging to the faintest hope that it’s Nexus, the Omega Facility, telling me to come in early, even though my heat hasn’t come yet or anywarning signs. Part of me wonders if he’s already shattered something inside me and that I’ll never go into heat, never escape. But I will fight no matter how many times Gary tries to break me.
With a shaky breath, I shove those fears aside like I’m kicking dirty laundry under the bed, tapping open my messages.
Jess- What’s up, bitches? Time to party tonight. Meet me at our usual spot in half an hour.
Danica -On my way!
Casey drops a string of emoji bombs.
Hell, yes. My thumbs fly across the screen in a rapid-fire response. This is my shot. My out. I don’t have to fight him off tonight or ever again. After we party, I can bolt for the Omega Facility, and he won’t dare lay a finger on Mom because I’ll keep his filthy secret.
And with any luck, the Facility’s cash incentive will give Mom the means to cut him loose. Wishful thinking? Probably.
It’s like he was her hero, and she craves him like her next fix. She has been so lonely since Dad died of cancer when I was nine. He had dark blond hair like mine and a smile I will never forget. He taught me how to fix cars, and we spent hours tinkering on old cars.
With movements bordering on frantic, I peel off my shirt and wrestle a black dress over my head. The mirror reflects my V-neck, which hints at the defiance I’m trying to muster, the hem at my mid-thigh and daring. My hands quiver as I brush my hair, and my lips get a swipe of rebellious pink lipstick, my favorite color.
Knee-high boots come out of hiding from my closet’s depths, the final piece in my never-going-to-see-me-again armor.They’re zipped up with a determination that’s new, fierce, and I like it.
I climb out my window, careful not to snag my dress.
