Page 21 of Pack Frenzy
My pulse hammers. “What happened to them?”
“They weren’t happy,” Eli says quietly. “So we let them go.”
Let them go. The phrase should be comforting. Instead, it sits cold in my stomach. I’ve got this damn cuff clamped around my ankle, ticking down ninety days of lockdown. And this house is full of shadows of Omegas just like me who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, last.
I nod like that answers everything. It doesn’t. But I don’t expect them to spill all their dark secrets when I’m still hiding mine.
There’s a blanket chest at the foot of the bed. I open it carefully, half-expecting... I don’t know what. Proof of something dark. Evidence of the Omegas who came before.But it’s just extra sheets and blankets, soft and plain and disappointingly normal.
The closet is massive, and the luxurious bathroom that even Mom and Sabrina would be envious of. “It’s—” I have to clear my throat. “It’s really great. Thank you.”
Eli smiles. “It’s early, but you look like you could use rest.”
“I’m fine,” I start, then a loud yawn betrays me, and I press a hand to my mouth. “Maybe not.”
Cassian smirks, but it’s not mean. “Try the bed. It’s better than fine.”
I glance at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed that reads 1:07 in the afternoon. “Yeah, it was hard to sleep with cameras at Nexus.”
“No one’s watching here,” Eli says, and it’s so matter-of-fact that it almost sounds true.
“Except the cameras,” Cassian mutters.
Eli gives him a look. “There are no cameras inside.”
Thatinsidehangs there. An invisible fence around the word.
“I’ll be in the workshop,” Cassian says, voice low. “Holler if you want anything fixed.”
He leaves before I can respond, and I wonder what he’s thinking about me, about all of this.
Eli lingers, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “You need anything—water, massage, noise machine—just whistle. Help yourself to anything you like here.”
“Thanks.”
He doesn’t press. Just gives a short nod. “Rest, Jess.”
When he closes the door behind him, the quiet settles thick and absolute. The kind that feels deliberate. Safe, maybe, but also designed.
Ninety days. No escape. Just them and me.
I sit on the side of the bed. The mattress dips around me, soft enough to swallow thought. The quilt carries Eli’s bergamot andthat warm-dryer bite, like he ran it on purpose, expecting some wrecked Omega to crash here.
It’s a ridiculous thought, but it still thaws something small and stubborn inside me.
When was the last time someone did somethingjust for me? Dad’s been away at work so much that I hardly ever see him.
The pillow cradles my head, and I hate how good it feels. How much I want this. How terrifying it is to want anything when everything gets taken away. First Sabrina, then Mom’s drinking, and even Dad, like everyone died in one way or another, leaving me.
Outside, the trees sway in the sunlight, their rhythm steady as breathing. Mine isn’t. My throat tightens, eyes burn, and I press my face into the pillow so they don’t hear if I break.
What if these Alphas and this Beta actually want me—not an Omega, not a commodity, butme.
Jess.
The girl whose sister vanished and whose mother gave up. The girl who’s been so alone she forgot what warmth felt like until Eli saidI do carelike he meant it.
Tomorrow, Nexus will want proof I’m breathing. But right now, in this moment, I’m not just breathing. I’m aching. Hoping. And that’s the most dangerous thing I’ve done in years.
