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They are stone.
Cold-hearted stone. Unfeeling. Selfish. Horrible, awful alphas.
“I’m really sorry. You seem like a really nice omega, and we hope you do really well, but we just can’t accept you. Go and find someone else and live a wonderful life.”
I stare at him, but there is no emotion on his face. There’s nothing there. No anger, no sorrow, no grief or regret, nothing.
“Would it feel good to see me with another alpha? To know that he had me whenever he wanted? Doesn’t that bother you at all?” I say the words to get a reaction.
I fail.
“You cowards,” I hiss, furious. “Gutless cowards.”
Hunter flinches, but Crow and Saint ignore me and move towards the door.
“We’ll be back after the bar closes. Help yourself to anything you need,” Saint says again in those cuttingly polite tones.
My eyes well with tears, and I rapidly blink them away just so I can see their retreating forms. In seconds, they’re gone. Just like that.
An hour ago, I had a pack and hope.
Now…now I have nothing but bitter memories and this broken, useless thing inside my chest that belongs to them.
My legs give out, and I collapse on the floor, scraping my knees. My chest feels like someone has cracked it open. Tears gather and sobs rip me apart. I don’t know how to be without them. I don’t know how to live with this pain. How could they?
My keens fill the house’s silence. A dirge of agony and grief, and all the while, their bitter words repeat in my head, round and round.
How could they do it? How dare they do it? I can’t stay. Obviously, I need to go. I’ll die if I stay here.
I claw my way up and look around. My head feels heavy and too slow to make connections. But slowly, anger burns away the grief and ignites my mind into creating a plan to get out.
I have no money.
Sell the clothes.
I sit there on the ground thinking about it. Can I do that? It was a gift, right? I turn away and go to the room, packing all the clothes in as little bags as I can. They all have tags still, luckily. Even with my super packing, I can’t take all of them. So I pick the three biggest bags.
My next move is to hunt down a bus or taxi. I don’t find a phone, but what I do find are the keys to a car. My give a fuck is broken, so after a moment’s deliberation, I snatch the keys up and stalk out of the house, unlocking it until a car beeps.
I pop the boot and return to the house for the three bags. I pull out some good clothes, jeans, jumpers, and underwear, and put them in a backpack. My next step is to the kitchen, where I raid their cupboards. I’d feel bad for stealing, but I feel like they’ve stolen my future and happiness.
So, we’re even, right?
Why should I care about them?
“Why should I give a fuck? I should burn this house to the ground and let them rot.”
A thought occurs to me and leaves me shattered. They’ve probably done this before.
The last thing I do is write a note and leave it on the kitchen counter.
Thanks for making sure I know what I’m going to miss forever. You’re assholes and you don’t deserve me.
Then I stalk out of the house, slamming the door shut, and I leave. My body still aches, but the happiness I woke up with is long gone. Now, I feel more broken than I ever have.
They didn’t want toreturn the clothes. I think they called Crow, and he authorised it, but I’m pretending that I can’t see it. Because if he just let them give me money, it means he doesn’t care enough to stop me.
And that means they meant what they said. Which in turn leads to the realisation that they aren’t coming after me.
