I Fell In Love With Two Rogue Brothers On The Run
I have died twice. And both times, the same man killed me.
My name is Amara. I am an Omega, which in this world means I am the last to eat, the first to be sold, and the easiest to forget. I was born into a cold house, into a family that looked through me like glass. And I carry inside my chest the memories of two other lives, two other versions of me who stood in the same place I'm standing now and did not make it out.
I know his name. Corvus. Dark Alpha. The man who rejected me the first time like I was something he scraped off his boot, and the second time handled me like something he needed to erase quietly before anyone noticed. I know what he's capable of. I know what his eyes look like right before the end. And I know that whatever arrangement my useless excuse for a family has made with his people, I am not going to stand here and let it happen a third time.
I have a plan. It has holes in it. It might get me killed again.
And then two men kick my door open and the plan becomes irrelevant.
"We're taking you with us," the serious one says. Just like that. Like it's already done. Like I don't have a single thing to say about it. And then there's the other one, leaning against my wall with that infuriating almost-smile, who adds: "You can say no. It won't change anything. But you can say it."
I say no. It doesn't change anything. I go with them anyway, because Corvus is coming and these two impossible men are the better option. That's what I tell myself. That's the only reason.