Page 49 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
“Hayden,” I say, reaching for him.
His hands are warm, enveloping my palm into his firm hold. “I’m here.”
Those two words shouldn’t make me sigh in relief. That simple fact shouldn’t loosen the tension between my shoulders. His scent shouldn’t bring me peace. It’s not right. It’s not fair. It’s not possible. I can’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone. The last person I trusted—Lindsey—showed me who she really was. I’d known her my whole life. Twenty-four hours isn’t long enough.
But, he’s here.
“I’m… I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” he says, scooting closer to me. He doesn’t try to hug me.
I’m too keyed up to accept that sort of affection.
“I don’t want to go,” I whisper, praying he’ll understand.
“You won’t have to go,” he responds, just as quietly.
“Hayden.” Trev’s words are quiet, but he demands Hayden’s attention.
“She’s okay.” Hayden never breaks eye contact. “Can we go inside?”
I nod, swiping a tear from my cheek.
Weak. Weak. Weak.
Hayden and I rise to our feet and walk to the house. Trev barely shifts out of the way as we walk inside. He’s so close his breath brushes over my face. I pull away from it, ignoring the frown that tugs at his lips.
“What happened?” Asher is standing in the living room, tracking my movements with worry creasing his brow. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” I sit on the couch next to Hayden, body still stiff with adrenaline. The pillow Asher was using brushes against my legs.
“She screamed,” Trev says. “I didn’t hurt her.”
“Phantom scars,” I explain, staring at a picture on the wall. “I’m fine.”
No one speaks.
In the back of the house, Avi snores. At least he won’t see how pathetic I am.
“Why did you run?” Trev asks, crouching in front of me. “Why?”
I grimace. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“Try me.”
Glaring at him, I summon some of my spine to answer. “Omegas are like cattle. You all pretend like we have it good. The Omega Council shoves propaganda down our throats like it’s water, telling us how to behave and please our pack. If we fuck up, we’re treated like pigs.”
“Pigs?”
I nod. “You heard me. Cattle have more value because they can give more. Pigs are meant for one thing and one thing only. Slaughter.”
“Cattle are slaughtered,” Trev says.
“Yeah, but some are kept for dairy. For a time, they’re more than food. They produce. Omegas who are matched are like cattle. Omegas auctioned are like pigs. Curtis is the butcher. If Camila doesn’t send me back to him, it’ll be some other alpha with a knife.”
“They’re not going to kill you,” he tries to reason.
“No, they’ll only drug me and force me to dance, entertaining people against my will. I’d rather live on the streets than live like that.” I dig my fingernails into my thighs, resisting the urge to scream at him.
