Words in my throat

Wolves growling, bones breaking, men screaming, all in the darkness I laid in, eyes wide open, heart thudding as I fought to see.

But the darkness swallowed even my wolf, forcing me to lie flat on my belly.”

Praying through hitched breath that those grey pupils that had refused to drop like the others, didn't turn on me too.

A man screamed.

I sat up quickly, searching blindly on the floor for anything to use as a weapon, to defend myself.

Instead, my fingers drowned in something wet, warm, and thick. When I jerked my hand back with a sob it dripped.

I wanted to scream, to shout out my terror and for once not have to care if I survived or not.

But then—without warning—hands yanked me out of the bathroom and flung me over strong shoulders.

And as he walked through the firm, he muttered, “It's okay. I'd like to say you're in safe hands.” he sounded frustrated. “At least you're better than those guys in there. That kid is a psycho.”

I recognized that voice, he was one of the men in Link's office. 

What was he talking about?

What kid?

Why was the office empty and death silent? Why were gammas sprawled unmoving? Why did this place reek of death?!

Oh goddess. Oh Goddess.

I don’t remember passing out. But when I opened my eyes it was to the sound of a couple of voices.

Men's voices.

“You think he knew that was gonna happen?” one asked.

“Naa,” the man who had carried me answered, “He froze when she screamed. Looked completely lost.”

I opened my eyes fully, and the first thing I saw was the steering wheel. I was in the backseat, a coat over my shoulder, and two men riding at the front.

“She's an omega.” Said the one behind the steering, “Boss let an omega mark him. All of his grieving widow's behavior after the claim was for an omega.”

“Like a wife whose husband went to war, I tell you.” The other snorted, “From when he showed up, the former Boss, goddess bless his soul, knew he was deranged. I see it now.”

One of them turned, I quickly shut my eyes, pretending I was asleep.

This was bad. Really bad. I steadied my heartbeat. Where were they taking me? To be punished? He was really going to punish me for something I had no control over?

“What the fuck are you up to now?” the man who carried me breathed.

Even with my eyes shut, I knew it wasn't my question.

When I didn't feel his gaze any longer, I peeped, at the back of their heads, before darting around me.

Bold of them to think I'd go down without a fight.

Almost a couple of hours later the car rolled through a huge gate, greeted by men guiding the entrance.

The air smelled different, and I didn't need a seer to tell me we were in a different pack.

Finally, the car halted before a mansion bathed in bright lights—ones that tried to fight the night but lost miserably.”

In seconds, they were out, and he hurled me over his shoulder again. Walking feeling into the house like he owned it, climbed up stairs like I weighed nothing, and dropped onto my soft bed.

I waited for the chain to follow, the cold cuff on my wrist, but nothing came, he just walked out and shut the door behind him.

I opened my eyes to the bright room, satisfied it was genuinely empty, I forced myself up to my feet.

The room had a minimalist design, soft grey and milky hues, a few paintings, no photos, fit for a cold emperor who had the world beneath his feet…

A man I had just marked…

I took in a deep breath, hurried over to the bedside table, and grabbed a white and gold ceramic vase. Broken carefully, it could be used as a weapon.

I thought…when it crashed to the floor.

Not the vase…but a portrait that had been resting against it.

I gritted, staring wide-eyed at the door, waiting for the footsteps, but nothing came yet, so I dragged in another relieved breath.

I picked the portrait to put it back instead I dragged my gaze across it.

And my body went rigid. The hair at the back of my neck standing on end.

Two girls stood before an ice cream machine, one dark-haired in a bang, all smiles, and the other, red-haired, looking like she would rather be anywhere than her current location.

But that was a front. She loved that place, loved them. I would know, because she was me.

Eighteen-year-old me.

But that wasn't what made my throat heavy.

He stood next to me, barely reaching my chest, round glasses too big for his face, and a pink hoodie smudged with chocolate.

Handing me a pink coloured ice cream, lips curled up in complaint as he tugged at my dress.

Quiet, but loud when I was around, so glary and whiny.

Skylar's twelve-year-old baby brother.

I let out a strangled sob. 

“It can't be.” 

He couldn't be him! The names, they weren't even the same! Or related.

He had been so small, not big! Cute not domineering! Beta, not dominant Alpha!

But deep down, 

The truth weighed so heavily it was hard to breathe.

There was only one reason this photo was here….

The door creaked open. His presence filled the room before his footsteps echoed.

I shut my eyes, took in a deep breath, turned around slowly, as though stalling it, could rewrite that night six months ago..

But there he was, in the flesh, smelling of the wild, me and blood. Still pretty.

*You do that and you're mine.*

Goddess no.

I croaked carefully—“Hermes?”

The demon dared to smile, “You remember.” He peeled off his jacket. "No takebacks.”

I almost let out a whimper.

The men behind him stood still in anticipation.

In two slow strides, he stood before me cupping my cheeks. 

“You were really never going to come back?”

My hands trembled. Skylar… Mrs Blackwell… the family I owed everything to.

But the mutt kissed me. So fast there was no time to push him off. So soft I melted.

The vase dropped.

Inside I bled…

What have I done?

What?