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But then, a rebellion can’t be led on an empty stomach, right?
Plus, there’s a benefit to being the ignored Rej, when you’re running a shop. People chat in front of you like you don’t exist.
I often overhear useful gossip from loose-lipped powerful customers who love to eat our luxury cakes. It’s easy for me to pass on the information to my brother, who in turn, can tell the resistance.
If we’re caught, then we’ll be executed.
The President has made national security on high alert against the resistance.
I’m not scared for myself. I’ve lived my entire life knowing that I could die.
Plus, within the Snake pack, life is cheap.
I’m scared for my brother, on the other hand, but he’s recklessly brave. He’d be insulted if I pointed out the risk.
I wrinkle up my nose. “Mrs. Chavez was in the shop again today, did you notice?”
Vito grimaces. “How could I miss her? I live for the praise of Alphas like her who criticize everything from my tattoos to the fact that I’m still single. She makes me feel all fuzzy and shit.”
“Lucky you don’t have a praise kink.”
“Hey, how’d you know? I may melt when someone whispers good viper at me.” He’s barely holding back from bursting into laughter as he says good viper in breathy tones.
“Please never say that again.” I nudge Vito with my shoulder. “And I wasn’t talking about her grumbling about the fact that we still don’t stock smoothies, only coffee. She simply won’t let that drop. I meant that she was moaning to her friend, while she waited for you to make up her order of cupcakes with strawberry frosting, about her poor Omega son again. She still hasn’t let him out of the attic.”
Vito’s jaw clenches. “Fuck, are you serious? His punishment has been going on for at least—”
“A month now,” I say, sadly. “She was going on and on about how worried she is that he’s slipping into rebellious ways of thinking. She’s terrified that he’ll become a Reject, if she doesn’t condition him to be more dynamic appropriate. She’s thinking about sending him to the Omega Institute for retraining.”
Vito hisses in a sharp breath.
In his distress, his scent becomes a stronger coffee. The sweet vanilla edge sours.
Nausea floods me. Bile rushes up my throat, and I gag.
“I’ll message Prince, my contact at the resistance.” Vito’s eyes darken to stormy blue in his rage. “Things aren’t changing fast enough. It’s the fucking mayor’s fault. His iron fist around this town and support for places like the Institute and Alpha Center encourages everyone to treat their packs like shit. Mayor St Clair is as corrupt and criminal as our own Snake pack. I’m going to get that Omega out, before he’s sent to the Institute to be conditioned to act like like some…”
“Sheeple?”
All of a sudden, a wave of scents — vanilla, apple, and fresh bread — hits me
My patch has worn off earlier than normal.
Is it the strong emotions that have been conjured up by the thought of that trapped Omega? Or the thought of the mayor who’s waging his own campaign against our bakery?
Shit, shit, shit.
I stumble to the side, trying to catch myself on the counter.
Overwhelmed, agony shoots through my head.
I cry out, as my knees buckle, and I fall to the wooden floor.
I’m shaking.
Nausea roils through me. I press my hand against my mouth to stop myself vomiting.
Faintly, I hear Vito cussing and scrambling across the room, followed by running water.
