Page 186 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

I turn away from the window.

I go to the drawer at the back, behind the things I never touch—the things I keep because I haven’t been able to bring myself to throw them away. A small wooden box that closes with a brass clasp. I haven’t opened it in years.

I sit down on the floor with it in my lap and open it.

My mother’s photograph is on top. I pick it up and hold it under the light.

She’s young in it. Around the same age I am now. Dark hair loose around her shoulders. Green eyes shaped like mine. She’s looking at something outside the frame and almost smiling—not quite, just the beginning of it, the moment before.

I look at her face and I see her clearly for the first time. She’s not the woman who left her twelve-year-old daughter, but the one who died trying to get us both out.

“I’m sorry, Maman,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I believed him.”

I take the letter from my jacket and put it in the box, beside the photograph. Two things I have left of her.

If I’m gone, it’s not because I chose to go. I would never choose to leave you. Never.

I close the box and hold it against my chest and sit on the floor of my empty apartment and let myself cry—loud, coming from the bottom of my lungs and shaking my whole body. I cry for the mother I lost and the years I spent hating her for leaving and the truth I only learned today in a concrete room from the man who killed her.

And then, when the tears slow, I think about the alphas who are probably wondering where I am right now.

I pull my phone out and text Max.

Something came up this morning. I’m okay. I’ll explain everything tonight.

I type I love you and stare at it for a long moment. Then I delete it, letter by letter, and hit send.

His reply comes in seconds.

We’re here. Whatever you need. I love you, little one.

My lip trembles. He says it so easily, so openly, like it’s just the truth.

I type back: I love you too.

I press the phone against my chest and close my eyes and breathe.

I should shower and eat something. More importantly, I should go back to Synthera and do my job and find the mole and protect the people I love.

My phone buzzes again.

I glance at the screen. It’s Lucy.

Hey girl! Where are you today?? We missed you at lunch. Also, something weird happened. There was a small fire in one of the labs. Everyone’s fine but it was SO scary. Just thought you should know! Hope you’re doing ok

I stare at the message.

A fire. In the labs. If the temperature controls in the clinical wing are compromised—if someone has got to the storage unit⁠—

They can’t destroy Equinox.

I text Lucy back. I’m on my way.

It’s nearly five when I make it to Synthera and the grounds are quiet, the car park almost empty, the glass of the atrium catching the last gray light of the day. I’m out of the car and moving toward the entrance before I register that I’m still in my jeans and gray hoodie, my hair in a messy ponytail.

Lucy meets me at the entrance to the underground corridor.

“Sophie!” Her face lights up, then her eyes drop to my outfit and her brow furrows. “What on earth are you wearing? And your hair⁠—”