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“How much did he leave us with?” I ask in a flat voice.
“Enough for…I mean…if we’re careful…maybe until the middle of next week.”
“Fuck!” I explode, dragging at my hair. “How are we going to pay the bills? Buy ingredients? We have nothing.”
“Hey, hey.” Vito catches my hands, stopping me from pulling at my hair. I can hardly see him through the blur of my tears. “We’ve had nothing before and we’ll probably have nothing again.” He makes his tattoo hiss next to mine, and despite myself, I laugh, returning the gesture. “We’re the snake siblings. We always pick ourselves up, right?”
“Right.” I swallow. I don’t know that I believe it, not this time. In a way, I wish that Thomas knew what we were sacrificing for him. On the other hand, I hope that he never finds out. But then, my expression brightens. “The Saints are trying to increase the power of Haven by holding the town’s first food festival on their estate in a couple of weeks. Angel was talking about it. If we can find a way to hold on until then, we can enter. There’s going to be a special cake contest with celebrities and bakeries entering from across the state. Even if we don’t win, it’ll bring attention to the bakery.”
“What’s the prize if we do win?” For the first time, Vito’s looking hopeful.
“That’s the awesome part. The local billionaire Knight pack are offering a quarter of a million dollars as first prize.”
CHAPTER THREE
Flat Above Dough Knot Bakery, Haven
How the hell are we going to survive?
Adrenaline spikes through me. I bite my lip.
A cake contest? Prize money? A quarter of a million dollars?
It’s pie — or cake — in the sky.
Right now, if we don’t find a way to raise money to buy more supplies to keep baking with by Monday, then the bakery will close anyway by the middle of next week.
Whoever heard of a luxury bakers that couldn’t even afford to make donuts to sell?
Thanks, Dad.
My eyes burn with tears.
I burrow my head into my pillow, taking a reassuring sniff of the vanilla espresso scent.
My brother scents the pillows, cushions, and blankets around our tiny flat above the bakery to help me feel safer.
I don’t care that Dad is Head Alpha.
Vito feels like my pack Alpha, and his scent comforts me. It always has.
My bedroom is tiny with curved, low beams. Yet I painted it a cheerful cherry pink, when we first moved in, and my small bed is covered in matching pink bedding with a giant pile of cuddly cushions.
It’s my snuggle cushion nest, and my favorite place to be.
Whenever I’m tired, overwhelmed by outside scents, or stressed, I retreat to my snuggle cushion nest.
The early morning sun streams through the threadbare violet drapes. The windows need cleaning again. There never seems enough time in the day.
A cheap, lopsided wardrobe and chest of drawers are pushed up against the far wall.
The other walls are covered in posters of Omegas who have inspired me: the rock band, Empty Cage, the figure skater, Ice, who bonded with the hockey players, the Blades, and the movie star, Jex.
They’re Omegas who broke the mold.
They’re brave enough to step into the spotlight, working in industries that have been barred to Omegas before.
Their stories make my heart swell with pride.
