1. This Kind Of Shitshow

“Up!”

The command was a sudden boom of bitten sound. An order from a master to their well-trained dog. It was accompanied by a pounding sound that hammered through Isobel’s head and jolted her into consciousness.

Her heart vaulted into her throat and her legs darted out from beneath the covers that weighed her down as she tried to roll off her mat of blankets on the floor.

Instead, she found herself falling … from a real bed.

The ground rushed up to meet her face and she sprawled with a painful thud, a husky groan slipping from her lips as she placed her cheek on the cool wood and stared toward the other side of the room—where the pounding noise was coming from.

What the hell was going on?

Where was she?

The floor was polished, patterned parquetry. There was a familiar divot by her knee, reminding her of when her father had thrown a phone at her. It had missed, perhaps deliberately, chipping the surface instead.

“Get out here, Isobel!” The voice behind the door shouldn’t have been a shock—not with the familiar floor of her childhood bedroom staring back at her—but she flinched at her father’s impatient bark all the same, curling into a ball, cradling her bruised knees, and staring at the door the way a cornered, wild animal tracks their aggressor through waving thatches of forest undergrowth.

She knew the look of a cornered animal. She knew it from those nature documentaries, and she knew it from her reflection in the mirror. It was the way she had stared at that same door, in that same way, a million times before. Her brain was still catching up, but her muscles remembered exactly what to do. She watched and waited, barely breathing, her chest barely moving.

He didn’t force his way inside. Not yet.

What had she done now?

Did she deny him?

Defy him?

Disappoint him?

His heavy, lumbering footsteps retreated, and only then did she glance around the room.

Herroom.

Her room in her father’s penthouse in Nevada.

Her hands shot to her pockets, shaking and fumbling at the unfamiliar material. She glanced down. The jacket she wore was Mikel’s. She had seen him in it several times. She began to yank down the zipper.

Why was she wearing Mikel’s?—

She froze, her eyes widening on her bloodstained dress. No. Her blood-drenched dress.

And her fingers, now freed from the overly long sleeves.

They were caked with cracked, dried blood.

The trembling grew worse, and she tried to stand, but her legs collapsed, her head spinning dizzily. There was another—more polite—knock against the door.

“Carter? Can I come in?”

For a moment, her mind went blank, and then it kicked back into gear, spinning overtime.

Bellamy?

Adam Bellamy?

“W-what the h-hell?” she croaked, her thoughts still tripping and tumbling over each other in an attempt to catch up to what was happening.

Her father wanted a movie deal.

He had made a deal with Bellamy’s father.

Bellamy would be her surrogate.

Mikel had intervened.

She had … stood up for herself. Against her father. For the first time in her life.

Where was Mikel now?

Even without Mikel there to protect her, she wasn’t sure she could go back to cowering before Braun Carter. She had stepped over the line he had worked her entire life to bully her behind, and there was no going back.

The door cracked open, and Bellamy stepped inside, his eyes widening on her, snapping from her stricken face to her blood-stained fingers as they clutched her knees.

She was already cowering.

Her mind refused to be afraid, but her body hadn’t yet received the message.

“What the fuck?” Bellamy took two hasty steps forward, and she scooted back along the side of her bed, holding her hands up sharply. “J-just stay where you are!”

He halted, his mossy gaze darting between her hands. “Your dad didn’t say you were injured in the shooting.”

The shooting.

That was what happened after she stood up to her father.

She had been so happy. Deliriously happy, after dancing with Gabriel and Elijah. It was the lightest she had felt in years, certainly since being separated from her mother. It had felt like she belonged somewhere. Like she had people she cared about, who might just care about her in return. Until the sound of pop pop popping brought her fragile hope crashing down hard enough to shake her foundation.

And then the screaming started, and her foundation cracked.

Then there was the look of fear in Cian’s eyes as he fought to get to her, and the crushing weight of the crowd as they shoved her further away.

The crack turned into a chasm.

And then …

And then …

All of a sudden, she found it hard to breathe. The air lodged into a tight ball halfway up her throat, threatening to choke her.

Bellamy glanced around nervously, like something might jump out at him as useful—a tool to calm her down, or a clue to understand the situation—before he spun on his heel. “I’ll get your dad.”

“No!” she hissed, suddenly reaching out to him instead of warding him away with bloodstained palms.

He paused, his back to her, and when he turned again, there was more than a little caution in his eyes. If she was prey in the woods, then he was the entitled hunter who had just realised he was trespassing on someone else’s grounds and had encountered someone else’s prey. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Carter, you have to tell me what the hell is going on,” he said, closing the door.

For a moment, she wondered if she had just traded one monster for another.

Crowe had brought a gun to Ironside. Crowe had tried to kill her.

Crowe was Bellamy’s friend.

“I’m not hurt,” she mumbled distractedly, staring him down.

But other people were.

People were killed.

Crowehad been killed.

By … her?

Meaty fists pounded against her delicate skull, rattling her foggy memories around and making them hard to examine.

Bellamy kept his distance, his hand rubbing agitatedly along the back of his neck. “Whose blood is that?” he finally asked, waving at her dress.

“Nobody’s.” She quickly zipped up Mikel’s jacket. “How long has it been since …” Her mouth went dry, the words dying off on a choked sound. She couldn’t say it.

“The shooting? Yesterday?” He finally decided to sit on the ground a few paces away from her. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I’m sure. Don’t pretend we’re friends.” She searched the pockets of Mikel’s jacket. “Where’s my phone?”

“Your dad said you lost it. I tried texting you a few times to let you know my dad wasn’t letting me pull out. I thought maybe something happened to you, you know … so I asked my dad to call yours.”

“You should have tried harder,” she spat.

“I should have succeeded where you failed, you mean?” he bit back, his cheeks blushing with a thin wash of pink. “That’s a bit rich.”

He was right, and she hated it.

“Did you actually try to get out of this?” She peered at him, lowering her walls slightly to taste his emotion.

Confusion. Apprehension. Pity.

“I did,” he sighed. “I figured it was the least I owed you. I swear I didn’t know about Crowe dragging you behind Dorm A. I mean … I had my suspicions. We’ve been fighting about it since I found some really creepy pictures in his room. But I didn’t know. I would never encourage anything like what he did.”

“He’s—” Her voice cracked, and she had to clear it. “—done a lot. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Bellamy glanced up, sorrow flitting across his expression, and she realised her walls were still cracked when his grief washed up against her.

And his guilt.

“I had no idea he had a gun.” Bellamy’s voice was hoarse. “But I should have paid more attention. I thought icing him out of the group would solve the whole situation … but anyway, he’s dead now.”

Her eyes snapped to his, and he frowned, misreading the torment that was digging into her features with hot, bloody claws.

“You didn’t know?” Bellamy shook his head. “He barricaded himself in the chapel when he heard the sirens. The place burned down. We still don’t know what exactly happened. Some people are saying he did it deliberately, and some are saying it was an accident. Apparently there was no evidence of anyone else having been in there. So either someone killed him and then covered their tracks really well—which is impossible with how quickly everything happened. Unless there was a whole team of people there to make sure there was no evidence left behind, but this is Ironside we’re talking about, not a spy movie. So I guess he just wanted to burn himself to death. Maybe he thought that was better than getting caught by the—” He glanced at the door. “Better than getting caught.”

She dropped her attention to her folded legs, jolting when a door slammed elsewhere in the apartment, her entire body curling in on itself.

Bellamy watched her, his light green gaze flitting across her cowering body, the silver Beta ring making his eyes appear almost frosty. “Your dad said he had to get to a meeting.”

Her father was gone. Nobody else would have dared to storm out of his apartment that way.

She rose to her feet, catching herself against the edge of the bed as a dizzy spell overtook her. Bellamy also stood, shoving his hands into his pockets instead of reaching out to help her.

Smart of him.

“I have to find my phone,” she croaked, moving to the door.

“Guess I’ll help.” He followed, pausing when she did.

She had turned to stare at him, her mouth pursing, her brows pinching in.

He pushed elegant brows up, his posh accent deepening into something that might have been an insulted tone. “I’m just as stuck here as you are, Carter. Give it a damn rest.”

“Fine,” she bit out. “But don’t touch me.”

“Why the hell would I touch you?”

“Just making sure you didn’t have the wrong idea about this surrogate thing.” She flung the door wide, inviting him to come with her, and stalked down the hall.

“Seriously?” He trailed her lazily. “I think you have enough of those and last time someone tried to touch you, Golden Boy Kane burst into Dorm B and broke like five of his bones and landed him in hospital.”

She couldn’t think about Crowe—or even Theodore—so she just swallowed past the bile that tried to rise in her throat and peered into the rooms branching off from the hallway. They were all unoccupied, but she could hear a male voice speaking faintly from the direction of the breakfast room. She put a finger to her lips, glancing at Bellamy, who gave her a confused nod in acknowledgement, and then she moved quietly toward the kitchen.

There was a delicate, frosted glass sliding door leading from the kitchen into the breakfast room. She leaned gently against the wall beside the door, inching it open to peer through.

Cesar Cooper, the manager her father had forced her to sign with, sat at the marbled bar, looking down at the city skyline, distracted by a call, headphones plugged into his ears as he glared at his phone resting on the surface before him. He had a coffee and a scotch, one in each hand, and he kept diverting his attention from his screen to consider his options, attempting to decide which one to drink. There was nobody else in the room. She eased back, closed the door again, and backtracked to her parents’ room.

No … her father’s room.

She opened the door and stepped inside, the familiar sight making her throat tighten in sorrow.

Wrong again.

It was still her parents’ room.

Still the bedsheets her mother had picked out.

Still her hand cream and lip balm on the nightstand.

Still a dog-eared book she likely never had the chance to finish, waiting patiently to be thumbed through.

Isobel crept around the side of the bed, sucking in a breath. The silk slippers were there, right there, waiting for her mother to drift out of the sheets and slide her feet in with practiced ease.

“Where is your mom, anyway?” Bellamy asked, surveying the room from the doorway.

Isobel swallowed. “Gone.” She filtered the fresh outpouring of grief away, right on top of the horror of what she had done to Crowe, and the panic that threatened to overwhelm her at being separated from her mate—her Alph—no, not her anything.

TheAlphas.

Or her friends? Her group?

Fuck it.

She locked it all up tight, labels and all.

It didn’t feel like it would hold for long, but it would do for now.

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy offered quietly.

She nodded without looking at him and began searching the room, barely noticing when he joined in, hesitantly opening a drawer here and there. When they had searched everything, she went back to her own room, just in case she had missed it, but it quickly became obvious that she hadn’t. Frustration threatened to explode inside her, and she dragged her hands through her hair before pausing, the red stain on her skin sending her over the edge.

“Gonna … gonna be sick.” She pushed into her bathroom, tumbling to the toilet and shoving the seat up, her stomach heaving violently.

“Bloody hell.” Bellamy stood in her bedroom, shifting uncomfortably as she vomited. “Maybe you do need a surrogate.”

She dragged herself back to the door and kicked it closed in his face before crawling back to the toilet, tears now tracking unheeded down her cheeks.

“Was it … one of the Alphas?” Bellamy’s voice carried through the door. “I know you were close to some of them. Is that why you’re covered in blood?”

“N-no!” The word was almost a scream, and she fell back against the wall, sweat gathering to mix with her tears as she began to panic. “No …” It was a whimper this time. “They’re fine.” Please be fine.

She dragged her knees up, her head hanging between them as she tried to think clearly.

“Oh. Okay.” Bellamy shifted against the door. “You can borrow my phone if you want?”

Her head snapped up, and she forced herself to her feet, shoving down her emotion once again as she flushed the toilet. She quickly rinsed her mouth and wobbled back to the door, wrenching it open. Bellamy was already holding out his phone, but he frowned as she tried to reach for it with blood-caked fingers. She flexed her fingers into fists, shoved up the sleeves of Mikel’s jacket, and spun back to the sink, scrubbing at her arms until her skin was pink for a different reason.

She dried her hands and Bellamy unlocked his phone for her, but then she was just holding it and staring at it.

She didn’t have any of their numbers memorised.

They didn’t even have individual social media accounts, only a group one, called Dorm A. It made sense, now that she knew their plan to win the Ironside game as a group.

She frowned, chewing on her lip before opening one of Bellamy’s social media accounts and searching for Dorm A. Bellamy peered over her shoulder, and they both waited for it to load.

It was taking too long.

She cursed, flicking out of it, and opening another.

That one wouldn’t load either.

“No service,” Bellamy noted, a frown in his voice as he pointed to the top of his phone. Then he straightened, his eyes widening, a strangled sound catching in the back of his throat. “He wouldn’t.”

“He who?” She whirled on him, panic making her skin itch. “Wouldn’t what? Why won’t your phone work?”

“My dad.” His throat worked, a lump moving up and down beneath smooth, pale skin. “I think …” He snatched his phone off her, tapping away at it furiously before groaning, his hands falling to his sides helplessly. “He cancelled my service.”

“Why would he do that?” Her voice had risen to a shrill level.

“At Carter’s request.” The voice came from the doorway to her bedroom, and they both whipped to face Cooper, who leaned in the open frame, small brown eyes flicking between her and Bellamy. “Good to see you’re finally awake, Isobel.”

“It’s Carter,” she corrected thinly.

“No.” He chuckled, low and slow. Condescending and indulgent. Like he thought she was awfully small and cute. “That would be your father, young lady. I’m afraid you just missed him. He couldn’t wait around any longer.”

“He didn’t wait that long.” Bellamy sounded confused, already tucking his frustration away as he glanced at a gleaming silver watch with a sapphire face. It seemed to be a deliberate reminder. Bellamy wasn’t a settlement kid, he was an Icon kid, riches and all.

Cooper levelled him with a flat, unimpressed look, before digging into the pocket of his vest. He held out a little pill bottle, shaking it at Isobel like she was a dog and he had some treaties for her.

“He left these for you. You won’t be getting extra surrogates this time. You need to take one of these every day.”

“I need a phone.” She ignored the pill bottle, keeping her attention steadfast on his face. “It’s urgent.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He smacked his lips together. “That’s in the safe. You have everything you need right here. And if there’s anything else you require.” He spread his thin arms, his mouth stretching wide beneath a moustache he had started to grow over the past few months. “I’m at your service.”

Black spots flashed before her vision and she stumbled, catching herself against the solid, wrought iron end of her bed frame.

“Carter?” Bellamy appeared at her side, his hand reaching for her elbow, but he stopped short of touching her. “You good? Do not do that teleporting thing and leave me here alone please.” He shot Cooper a quick look. “No offense, dude.”

Cooper let out a jovial laugh, waving his hand. “Oh, no need to worry about that. This new version of the surrogate pill takes care of all those nasty side effects. We already gave her a double dose through an IV when she arrived.”

Panic. So much panic. She was dizzy with it. There didn’t seem to be any way to hold it all inside her body.

“How?” she croaked, unable to focus on anything. Her trepidation was a maelstrom, filling her head with a too-fast swirl of white noise and blurred, worst-case scenarios.

How long could she survive without them? Were the pills enough?

“We had a nurse drop by.” Cooper’s tone suggested she should have guessed as much already. “You were covered in blood. Carter was concerned you might be injured.”

“Then why didn’t he check me himself?” she gritted between clenched teeth.

Cooper ignored her question, tugging his phone from another vest pocket and tapping away at the screen.

She stared at the device in his hand, wondering if she could overpower him and wrestle it out of his grip. Likely not, in her current state.

“You’ve got the rest of the day to help your new surrogate settle in,” Cooper told her, unaware of the desperate way she sized up his phone. “But we’ve got a full schedule tomorrow. You need to refresh your birth control—can’t have you barefoot and pregnant before you win the game.” He glanced up at her, his moustache twitching. “Can we?”

She just stared at him.

Bellamy shifted his weight to his other foot, looking uncomfortable again.

Finally, Cooper returned his attention to his phone. “We also need to visit the stylist to take new measurements for the assistants to plan your wardrobe for your third year.” He glanced at her again, his eyes trailing her body. He breathed in deeply, rolling his lips together and making an appreciative sound. “Yes, that’s a must. Then you have a laser maintenance appointment. The rest of the evening, your father expects you to record videos for social media.”

“She’s going to need a phone for that,” Bellamy noted calmly, and for the first time, she felt a spark of gratitude for him, because she hadn’t been thinking clearly enough about what Cooper was saying.

“There’s already a camera set up. One of my assistants will handle the recordings and post them for you. This week we also have you booked in for a haircut, a teeth-whitening appointment, your first injection of Botox, and an initial consultation with a plastic surgeon.” He seemed to flick to a different list on his phone before peering at her again. “How attached are you to those freckles? Skin bleaching is an option.”

Bellamy whistled low beneath his breath.

Isobel was at a complete loss for words, but she shouldn’t have been. She knew how her father operated. He always won. Always got his way. He bullied and twisted the rules until everyone was crushed beneath the weight of his influence.

He was an Icon, after all.

This was what she got for standing up to him. He would be sure to whittle away at her until she was nothing more than the puppet he had intended—cut, polished, lasered, primed, and laced up in designer clothes, ready to represent the Carter name. Someone worthy to be called his daughter, despite her inferior Sigma rank.

“Right.” Cooper sniffed, absorbing her shell-shocked expression. “You can think about it later. I think the first order of business is a bath?—”

“Get out.” She pointed behind him, over his shoulder, her finger trembling.

“You’re weak.” His mouth tightened into a thin line. “Your father left you in my care and the nurse has already been sent?—”

“OUT!” she screamed, her voice breaking off at the end, her entire body beginning to tremble.

“I’ll help her.” Bellamy quickly stepped in front of her and then walked toward the door, somehow shepherding Cooper backward, though he managed to do it in a casual sort of way. “I need to start surrogating at some point,” he said with a jovial tone. “Might as well crack on with it.” And then he shut the door in Cooper’s annoyed face.

He leaned back against it, his head shaking slowly back and forth. It sounded like he was cursing under his breath. He turned, put his ear to the door, and then seemed to relax, his shoulders inching down. He pushed both hands through his wavy chocolate hair, the skin around his eyes tight.

“The hell kind of shitshow did that asshole drop me into?” he grumbled.

She had no idea if he was talking about her father or his own.

“We can’t stay here. I can’t stay here.” She darted her attention around the room, the tremble in her limbs only abating somewhat, her gaze wide and lost. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Sure you can.” Bellamy shrugged, but his mouth was pulled down at the corners. “You have a surrogate.” He waved at his own chest. “And those pills that stop your side effects—why haven’t I heard of those, by the way? Cooper said they were new, I think? Shouldn’t that be all over the news? Is that why I had to sign a nondisclosure? But anyway, I mean Cooper is a creep and all, but I just won’t leave you alone with him and everything will be fine, right?”

She was going to have a complete breakdown.

“S-sure,” she managed, trying to shove it all away.

She shoved and shoved, and it just kept rolling back over her, tumbling down onto her head like an overfull closet stuffed with one shoebox too many. She pushed the mess in, and it collapsed outward until she was buried, fatigued, and drowning in the piles of her own panic.

“You don’t understand,” she croaked. “I need …”

What could she possibly say?

Technically, he was right.

The whole world thought she had survived on surrogates this long, and there was no reason she couldn’t continue to survive on surrogates.

And then there were the pills.

“I know I’m not an Alpha.” His expression pinched inward. “But Betas are powerful too.”

What aren’t you telling me?His voice pushed into her head, echoing around like a silky whisper, attempting to illustrate his power.

She flinched back, scowling at him. “Nothing. You’re right. It’s not like I don’t think I’ll survive or anything.” Lie. “This is about letting my father poke me and prod me and cut me and bleach me until there is no ‘me’ left. It’s about how he has abused me my entire life, and when he’s not abusing me, he’s neglecting me and handing me off to be abused by someone else.” She pointed accusingly at the door, her vision clearing with the outburst of emotion. “And stay the fuck out of my head, Bellamy.”

“Fine.” He raised his hands in supplication.

Damn. That felt good.

“I’m not doing this anymore!” She wanted to scream. To rage. To hurl things about the room until someone listened to her and did something about it.

“You don’t have to.” Bellamy’s lips twitched like he was considering giving her a wan smile—it was there in his cool eyes, but it didn’t quite make it to his mouth. “Your father can make all the appointments he wants, but no surgeon is going to operate without your permission. We can make it through this, Carter. I promise. It’s just for the summer break.”

She fell back, sitting on the edge of her bed as she stared at him. “Why would you help me?” she demanded flatly. “You hate me, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “Grow up. I certainly did.”

“You’re not even going to apologise?” she pressed. “You’re just going to blame the way you treated me on immaturity and hope I forget about it?”

His expression fell into something stern and droll, his tone lightly cutting. “Your father didn’t try to make you ruthless? Imagine how hard he would have tried if he thought you were actually capable of it. I didn’t grow up in the settlements holding hands with everyone and singing camp songs. I grew up thinking I was the most important kid in the world, and everyone was beneath me. It took me a couple of years at Ironside to learn that I wasn’t, but I did learn.”

She felt her mouth tugging up a little, wry humour flashing in her eyes despite how she wanted to pull it back behind a curtain of disdain. “I suppose that’s as good an apology as I’m going to get.”

“I’m sorry, Carter.” He frowned, a wince racing across his face as he brushed both hands through his hair again. “I’m not good at apologies. I’m much better at plans and scheming, so just accept the help.”

“In exchange for what?” she asked plainly.

“Damn.” He chuckled. “Ironside’s done a number on you too, eh? I’m well aware that I have no chance at being the winning Icon. Not with the way things stand at the moment. Eight Alphas and you, with your mysterious mate. Unless I discover a mate of my own or the Alphas decide to drop out, I might as well accept my fate. There’s nothing you can give me right now.”

“So you want a favour, for later?”

He shook his head. “Sure. Why not?”

“All right.” She nodded. Those were terms she could live with. “If you really want to help me, then help me get a phone. I … you’re right. I have grown close to some of the Alphas, and I have no idea what happened to them after the shooting. I have to make sure they’re all right.”

“I can help with that,” he said, angling his head to give her a serious look. “But are you sure they aren’t using you?” He displayed his palms in supplication at her murderous look. “I’m just saying, if this whole ‘Sigma and the Alphas’ thing is a publicity stunt, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out your dad arranged it somehow.”

“If my father arranged it, then why are you here?” she groused.

“He could be double dipping.” Bellamy shrugged. “I’ve seen all the clips, read all the debates online about you guys. I just … I’m not buying it, that’s all. Not with—what? Three of them?—acting interested in you. Alphas don’t share. Everyone knows that.”

“Which three?” she asked.

He stared at her, frowning, and then he burst into laughter. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I try not to read the comments anymore.”

He rolled his eyes, apparently finding her aversion to being in the spotlight weary. “I’m talking about Kane, Sato, and Ashford.”

Theodore, Oscar, and Cian?

“Oh.” She picked at her nails. “Interesting.”

“Is it?” He smirked at her.

“Not really.”

“You’re kind of … unemotional,” he noted, pinching his chin as he looked down at her. “Can Sigmas do the emotion-sucking thing on themselves?”

“No.” She sighed, dropping onto her bed. “Only dickheads like you.”

“I prefer the trembly, stuttering Carter from first year,” he declared, sitting at her desk. “Bring her back, will you?”

“I would say that I prefer when you were punchable, but I guess not much has changed.”

“Oh, a sense of humour. Delightful. Where’ve you been hiding that?”

She shook her head, but her lips almost twitched. “Shut up, Bellamy.”

“No. Let’s get to know each other, since we’ll be … living together—where am I sleeping, by the way? Your dad said I’d be staying in here with you, but there’s only one bed.”

“The floor,” she said immediately. “The hallway. The bathtub, I don’t care.”

“More humour. Less delightful.”

“I was being serious.”

“I don’t get it,” he suddenly declared, looking like he wanted to laugh. “The appeal. I don’t get why you have three Alphas chasing after you, Carter. You’re dry as a bone.”

“Not around—” She paused, pressing her fist to her mouth, her eyes wide on the ceiling.

“Oh my god.” Bellamy’s feet, which had stretched out to notch against the chaise along the end of her bed, dropped, and he leaned forward. “You were about to say not around them, weren’t you?”

She made a choking sound behind her fist. Despite the panic. Despite the dizziness. Despite the potentially dire situation. She was trying not to laugh.

Maybe Bellamy wasn’t so bad after all.

“Okay,” he said, kicking his feet back up again. “I get it now. You’re just a … how do I put this politely? A sexually prolific Alpha fangirl like all the rest of them?”

“A slut for Alphas?” She deadpanned. “Seriously?”

“Your words, not mine.” He grinned at her.

She picked up one of her pillows and tossed it at his head.