Chapter 309

Daphne

In the end, Olga found out I was in the hospital.

I don’t know how, probably one of the nurses, or a hospital administrator who recognized the Han name and thought they were being helpful. By the time I was being discharged my phone was being blown up to bits.

I had to hear from STRANGERS that my daughter was in the hospital?

Vivienne was with you? And neither of you thought to tell me?

I ignore the constant texts, shoving my phone in my pocket and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Vivienne hovers nearby, ready to catch me if I stumble, her face pinched with worry.

We make it to the hospital entrance. Fresh air. Freedom. A car waiting to take us—

Out of a sleek black car steps Olga.

I sigh so deeply I feel it in my bones.

"Daphne—you—you—" She can’t even form a sentence, too overwhelmed by a mixture of relief and fury. She rushes forward, her hands immediately patting me down, searching for wounds, for evidence of what happened.

Then she sees my palm. The bandaged stitches.

"Oh dear. Daphne, look at this." Her voice cracks.

In none of my lives have I ever had a parent. Is this how they all are?

"Mother, it wasn’t serious. Just dehydration and—"

"Dehydration that lands you in the hospital for nearly two days is serious, Daphne!" Her eyes are bright with unshed tears.

"What were you thinking? Why didn’t you call me? Why did Vivienne—"

She turns to Vivienne, and I see the shift in her expression. Not anger at her but hurt and disappointment.

"And Vivienne, I expected better from you than—"

"Mother." I cut her off, my voice firm despite my exhaustion. "That’s enough. I told her not to tell you."

Olga freezes.

The hurt in her eyes deepens, and I realize I’ve hurt her feelings.

"Why wouldn’t you want me to know?" Her voice is smaller now. "I’m your mother."

"Because I knew you’d fuss." I keep my tone light, trying to soften the blow. "And I was right. You’re fussing."

"Daphne—"

"Mom." I meet her eyes, firm but gentle. "It’s okay. I’m okay. That’s what matters."

She searches my face for a long moment, looking for the lie. Then she nods, pulling herself together with visible effort.

"Still." She straightens her spine, the matriarch returning. "Let’s go back to the mansion. You can’t stay alone. Who will take care of you?"

I open my mouth to argue, to insist I’m fine, that I don’t need looking after but I’m so tired. And she looks so worried. And Vivienne is standing there with her own fear still fresh in her eyes.

I decide to let her win.

"Fine."

Olga’s face lights up with relief. She immediately takes charge,directing the driver, guiding me into the car, making sure Vivienne is settled beside me. Within minutes, we’re heading back to the mansion.

Vivienne’s hand finds mine in the backseat, hidden from Olga’s view. She squeezes gently.

***

Elliot

I look at the fading marks on my neck in the mirror.

Purple and yellow bruises, shaped like fingers.I can’t believe what happened.

I was just trying to help.

She was in a rut—obviously, painfully in a rut. Her pheromones were everywhere, her body was screaming for relief. And I was there. An Omega. Available. What was so wrong about offering myself to her?

But the fact that she was in a rut, while completely in the grip of Alpha biology and could still reject me? Still push me away? Still choose not to touch me?

It means she’s such a good person.The thought makes my chest ache with want.

She’s not like the others.

She chose not to hurt me. Even when her body was screaming at her to do it.

It makes me even more unable to let her go.

I mean, I’m attractive. I know I am. Omegas fight for Alphas like her—powerful, wealthy, kind. I’m a dominant Omega too, which means I’m rare, valuable. I have a chance. I know I do.

I just have to try harder. Show her that I’m different. That I’m worth choosing.

I look at my phone buzzing on the counter. Vincent’s name flashes across the screen.

I let it ring.

And ring.

And ring.

It goes to voicemail. I don’t listen.

Vincent is... Vincent. He’s intense and possessive and sometimes scary. But he’s also familiar. Predictable. He wants me, always, without question. That should feel good, shouldn’t it? To be wanted?

But after what happened with Daphne—after feeling what it’s like to be seen instead of just wanted...

Vincent feels like settling.

I turn back to the mirror, touching the bruises gently.

***

Vincent

He doesn’t pick up.

Again.

I throw my phone across the room, watching it shatter against the wall with a satisfying crunch. Another phone. Another replacement I’ll have to get.

With this Panther bastard attacking me on all sides, the feds on my back, I can’t even blow off some steam by fucking my omega—because the bastard is ignoring me?

Ha.

Me?

He thinks he’s the only omega willing to open his legs for me? Thinks he’s so special that I’ll come crawling, begging for his attention?

Please.

I grab my keys from the table, the metal cold and familiar in my palm. Luca looks up from where he’s been cowering in the corner.

"Boss? Where are you going?"

"Out." The word is flat. Final. "Don’t wait up."

The club is loud and dark and full of possibilities. I walk through like I own the place,because I do, technically, through enough shell companies to make it deniable. The music pounds, the bodies writhe, and I scan the crowd for something that catches my eye.

There.

A omega at the bar. Dark hair, red lips, wearing something that leaves little to the imagination. She sees me looking and doesn’t look away. Good.

I slide onto the stool beside her. "Drinking alone?"

"Not anymore." Her smile is sharp, knowing. She knows who I am. They always do.

"Buy you another?"

"I thought you’d never ask."