Oh Joy, Retail Therapy

After that first day, I swore to myself I’d never break down in front of my parents again.

Seeing me curled up in agony had completely destroyed my mom and dad and Genevieve looked sick with worry. When my dad first realized what Bane had done, I saw a side of him I didn't know existed. He’s usually the most laid-back, easygoing guy on the planet, but that day, he looked terrifying. I learned that my father could be an absolute menace when pushed to his limit. Mom practically had to tackled him into a bear hug to stop him from shifting and burning the Packhouse to the ground.

Now? I cry in the shower. I muffle my sobs behind my hands until the hot water washes the salt away.

On the second night, the phantom bond pain spiked so intensely I had to bite through my pillow to swallow the screaming. The burning agony lasted for almost an hour. I knew instantly what my ex-mate was doing, he was out flaunting his fun with some other female, probably Pia, while my body paid the toll.

How was that fair?

In my head, my wolf, Nyx, howled in a mixture of pain, grief, and pure rage. Honestly, I welcomed her anger, it was infinitely better than her silence. Nyx is strong. I’m just thankful she hasn't abandoned me... yet.

My best friends; Aurelia, Vesper, and Kane know the whole story now, and they are completely livid. Vesper literally had to physically hold Kane back from storming out to kill someone. They’ve been coming over after school every single day to keep my spirits up. I have no idea what I’d do without my core group.

Growing up, I never thought being an Omega was supposed to be a stain on your character. My parents raised me to believe everyone is equal, and that even humans deserve total respect. Clearly, the rest of the pack didn't get that memo. Now, I’m painfully aware of the social hierarchy.

The funny thing is, my dad was actually next in line to be Alpha in his home pack. Like I said, he and my mom are hippies at heart; he was far too carefree to be trapped in pack politics, much to my grandfather's eternal frustration. So, his younger brother—my uncle Ashton—took over the mantle, while Dad followed Mom here. His birth pack, the Canis Gunnolf Pack, happens to be one of the strongest in the world.

We’ve never broadcasted that fact to anyone. The only people in this pack who knew my dad was Alpha-blooded were Alpha Alistair—Bane’s father—and his Beta.

When my dad first requested to join this pack, Alpha Alistair was paranoid that he would challenge him for leadership. My dad is a big guy, after all. To neutralize any theoretical threat, Alistair demoted my dad to Omega status on arrival. Dad didn't mind a bit he just wanted a quiet life.

Today is Friday, three days since the rejection. I decided I’ve wasted enough time wallowing.

I am not going to spend another second mourning a spineless jerk of an ex-mate. Nyx is still with me. I can survive without a mate bond, and I am fully determined to thrive on my own terms.

That said, I’m not quite ready to walk back into school yet. I don't need to watch Bane and Pia eating each other’s faces off in the hallway while laughing like everything is fine. But I am going to show him that I am far from broken.

Instead of school, I head down to our family business: Liveshade’s Craft & Art Supply Store, bold, colorful lettering painting the sign above the glass entrance. We own the shop—it’s the only art supply house in town and Mom occasionally runs painting workshops in the back studio.

"Hey, baby girl!" Dad calls out, looking surprised but visibly relieved to see me out of the house. "Just the person I wanted to see. I’ve got great news!" He smiles warmly, stocking boxes of pastel sets on a display shelf.

"What's up?"

"You just sold your very first original piece this morning!" he announces, beaming.

"Wait, really? Which one?" A tiny spark of genuine excitement hits my chest.

"The oil painting of the rundown cabin by the lake," he says, stepping behind the register counter and handing me a crisp envelope. "Here you go, honey." Pride radiates off him.

Five hundred dollars. For a piece I did on a whim.

"Look at you, rich woman," Dad teases, leaning his elbows on the counter. "What are you going to do with your fortune?"

"Oh, you know," I smirk, adjusting my bag. "Probably buy a Porsche, sign a lease on a luxury condo downtown, and completely ghost you guys."

"Smart-aleck," Dad chuckles, reaching over to ruffle my hair.

I can see the relief washing over his face he’s just happy to hear me sounding a little like my old self again.

Truth is, I don't think I’ll ever fully be my 'old self' again. I won't stay depressed forever—I refuse to let a worthless jerk destroy my life—but something fundamental inside me has shifted. My wolf and I are evolving. My chest still feels like it’s being trampled by a herd of elephants, but at least I know I am stronger than I thought.

My phone buzzes in my pocket with a notification.

Queen Aurelia: Whatcha doing? Is daytime TV as bad as they say?

Me: Nope. At the art store. Whatcha doing? Is AP Chem as boring as they say?

Queen Aurelia: Ha ha ha. I am dying inside. Save me.

Me: Ha! Just sold a painting for $500! Woohoo!

Queen Aurelia: Shut up, REALLY?! We are going shopping after school. Pizza and ice cream are on you.

Me: NOOOOO!

Queen Aurelia: YESSSS! Texting Vesper now. Gotta go, teacher is looking. C ya! Love ya!

I shake my head with a small smile. I know my friends would drag me to the mall by my ankles if I tried to say no.

I head into the studio at the back of the shop, slip an apron over my clothes, and set a massive blank canvas on an easel. Then, I attack it.

I pour every ounce of rage, betrayal, humiliation, and heartbreak into the bristles. It’s an absolute fury of motion, and by the time I step back, my cheeks are soaked with tears I didn't even realize were falling.

The canvas holds a dark, semi-abstract storm—heavy, jagged layers of deep charcoal, bruised purples, and angry crimson lines. But rising directly out of the chaotic wreckage is a single white dove taking flight. Its translucent, feathered wings are painted with delicate precision—ethereal, luminous, and completely unbothered by the darkness around it.

My strength. My hope. I am enough.

"Oh, honey..."

I turn to see Mom standing in the doorway, her hand pressed to her lips. "That is... absolutely breathtaking," she whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she stares at the canvas.

After the final bell rings, Aurelia and Vesper burst through the front door of the shop like a two-woman hurricane.

"We ditched Kane with his gym bros," Vesper announces cheerfully. "Today is a complete glam overhaul. Mani-pedis, hair, makeup, full retail therapy!"

"By the time we’re done with you, we’re going to look like absolute modern royalty, bitchesss!" Aurelia yells, grabbing my wrist and tugging me toward the exit.

"Oh joy, compulsory consumerism," I mutter under my breath.

Mom just laughs from behind the counter. "Have fun, girls!"

"We will, Lavinia!" they call back in perfect unison.

An hour later, we’re buried in clothing racks at an upscale boutique.

"You have gorgeous legs that literally go on for miles, Livana. It is a crime that you hide them," Vesper argues, holding up a sleek, violet structured mini skirt.

She and Aurelia have been trying to force me into shorter hemlines for as long as I can remember. I am a denim girl through and through. Jeans are my safety net. I wear skirts occasionally, but usually, they hit right at the knee.

"Come on, Liv," Aurelia threatens, crossing her arms. "We aren't leaving this fitting room until you try it on."

"Fine! Ugh," I sigh, caving into the pressure. As if a shorter skirt is going to magically heal a broken heart.

"Are you done yet? We're coming in!" Vesper calls out a minute later. Before I can answer, both of them squeeze into the fitting room with me.

"Okay, I am officially jealous," Aurelia sighs, inspecting the reflection.

I turn toward the mirror, adjusting the hem. I have to admit... I don't hate it. The cropped purple top hugs my upper body perfectly, the soft V-neckline accentuating my frame, while the structured skirt sits high on my waist and makes my legs look endless.

I let them curate the rest of my haul, though I strictly draw the line when Aurelia tries to hand me a skirt that’s basically a wide belt and denim shorts that leave half an ass cheek exposed.

Next up is the salon.

Aurelia gets her sleek black hair chopped into a blunt, sharp chin-length bob with straight-across bangs—she looks like she just walked off a Paris runway.

Vesper gets bright honey highlights woven through her blonde hair, trimming it just below her shoulders. With her soft features and bright blue eyes, she looks angelic... even when she’s actively plotting trouble.

For my copper-red hair, the stylist, Carrie, suggests adding dimensional caramel-blonde face-framing pieces, subtle layers, and a deep crimson gloss at the ends.

When she finishes blowing it dry, I stare at the mirror in disbelief.

"Your hair literally looks like a blazing fire," Vesper breathes, eyes wide.

"You look completely lethal, Livana," Aurelia approves with a wicked grin. "Now, let's go collect on that pizza and ice cream you promised us."

"Umm... I'm pretty sure I never promised pizza—"

"Shh," Aurelia smirks, linking her arm through mine. "Your credit card says otherwise!"