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My joints feel stiff as I take the folded nightgown out of my inner jacket pocket. It’s one of the few items she brought with her from her old apartment. I convinced myself it was fine to borrow it from her room since it clearly needs to be replaced.
The thing is pretty flimsy. Thin and small—just a slip, really. But the worn, heart-patterned fabric sends a pang through my chest every time I look at it.
It acts like a trip-wire of sorts. The second I focus on it, a rumbling begins behind my sternum. I strangle the would-be purr, but not before Julian’s knowing gray eyes snap to me.
They flicker away almost as quickly, but I don’t fucking like it.
Remi is the only omega I want looking at me.
That thought feels stupidly dramatic, but my Alpha grunts in agreement before settling back down, content we’re finally on the same page.
As if he’s given me any choice.
As if you would want any other choice, he huffs.
Such a dick. I wonder if anyone else argues with their instincts like this.
While the rest of the alphas awkwardly fumble their various pieces of omega clothes, the two on the stage watch us all, muttering to themselves.
Julian speaks, and Irene nods. Even before she looks up, my scalp prickles. And I know, in my bones, she’s about to look up, point right at me, and say?—
“You.”
Thankfully, I’m not the only one selected. There are six of us out of the twenty-odd alphas in the room. Two are male alphas in suits similar to mine. One is covered in tattoos. And two are female alphas—a businesswoman in a wrap dress, and a tired-looking woman in athleisure.
Fuck. Why are we here? Did they already pick the worst of us out of the crowd? Are these the hopeless cases?
The other fifteen stay behind with Irene, while Julian leads our smaller group to a quiet corner.
My eyes snag on the alpha wearing leggings. We exchange a grim look, as if confirming for one another that we’re both pieces of shit.
Julian touches a stack of chairs pushed into the far corner, and one of his alphas appears in a blink, unstacking enough seats for seven. Before he steps back to his position along the wall, he tenderly scent-marks our instructor, meeting his gaze for a beat before stepping away.
That same painful stab strikes my heart again. Shit. I don’t know if it’s guilt or jealousy. Some unholy combination of the two probably.
Because I don’t want Remi to be afraid of me. She should be able to count on me. I want to anticipate her needs so she can trust me to fill them.
Behind us, Irene peppers the others with questions. Rapid-fire—she barely gives the alphas time to respond before moving on.
How many hours of sleep should omegas get each night? Do they have any special nutrition requirements? What sorts of food should they eat during their heats?
Those feel like things we should all know. Julian listens to her for a few seconds before turning his laughing eyes on our smaller group. They take on a note of pity as they jump from face-to-face. Preparing, I’m sure, to give us the bad news.
We’re the worst of the worst.
“You six are here because you’re different from the rest of the group,” he starts. My stomach sinks lower. “Most alphas who come here are here on someone else’s orders. But you…”
He looks at each of us in turn, finally resting his focus on my face. “You six are obviously here because you feel like you’re terrible alphas. And it’s killing you.”
The second he says it, the tension in the circle shifts. We’re all relieved not to be pegged as the lowest of the low, but we’re also… ashamed.
That’s what this feeling is. What I’ve carried in and out of our house every single day since Forever Matched. The reason I can’t show my face for meals or bring myself to do anything more than deliver her morning coffee.
Shame.
I don’t recognize it until I see it on five other faces, but there it is. Gut-clenching, soul-crushing, and completely my own fucking fault. It smolders in the pit of my stomach, forcing me to drop my eyes to my loafers and grip Remi’s pilfered nightgown with clenched fists.
“The thing is,” Julian goes on, almost soft. “If you feel like you’re failing your omegas, you likely are.”
