2. Sadie

The director overseeing the hospital foundation program for those impacted by LanCo medication finishes presenting the latest updates.

That's my cue. I stand and give my report on the good-will visits I've been tasked with conducting throughout the clinic sites in the city. My voice wavers in a few places and I have to rely on the notes Logan and Tristian helped me craft this morning, but I get through it without saying something stupid or bursting into tears.

In the three months the program has been up and running, a staggering five hundred thousand omegas have made use of the free testing to determine if they have the physical markers that indicate they've been impacted by LanCo's drugs. Omegas are rare, making up less than five percent of the population, and with the numbers being tested it feels like it impacts every single omega in the country. The clinic is booked through next year, and we've been working with local communities to set up testing sites in all major regions. But it doesn't feel like enough.

My skin itches as the marketing folks' voices take over the meeting and drone on. The walls inside this boardroom are slowly moving in.

What am I doing here?

The answering guilt in my gut reminds me why I need to be strong. I can't disappoint people. They're counting on me. Tristian's mother and countless other omegas in this country were lied to, and the products they used caused harm. I lived in my father's house and benefited from his wealth. And even though growing up, my life wasn't mine, I feel responsible to do something now.

Tristian has told me several times this wasn't on me. That I can't be expected to feel guilty about my father doing this any more than he can about having a father who walked out. But I feel I need to do what I can, even if there never seems to be an end.

Like my father, I've become a polarizing figure on a national scale. Even before the revelation of my father's crimes, I went on record as being pro-scent matching and packs. When I came forward with evidence against my father, I added to that reputation. The press has crowned me "The Princess of Packs" or the even worse "The Alpha Killer." Those who call me that believe I'm part of the problem. According to them, I'm some kind of evil genius working in cahoots with my imprisoned mother to destroy my father and the bio-tech industry after he disowned me. It's crazy click-bait shit, but people believe it. All sides make my head hurt.

I think it's the shock of the story. When I lay it all out, even I can admit it's sensational. The tale of my father who came to hate omegas after his omega mother died and his fathers followed. He was a scientist who changed the world and tried to destroy it with his creations. He tried to kill his omega daughter to keep it secret. And of course, the irony of him being killed by his beta wife. It really adds a little something gaudy to the whole tale.

When the Kings arrived to ask for my help all those months ago, I shut the door in their faces. It was Logan who read the dossiers Madison left with me. Once he gave me the summary, I knew I couldn't turn away. I didn't trust the Kings, didn't want to work with them, but I didn't trust anyone else involved either.

Logan and Tristian worked together to confirm enough of their story to convince me to take a chance. Logan claimed, and continues to claim on record, that he received the information from an anonymous source. And it was Logan who orchestrated a group of reporters he trusted to work together to create the official release of information in coordination with my press release.

Since then, my father's assets have been frozen by the government, and LanCo has been taken over by the board.

The Kings and I are working publicly with the government to push for increased regulation in the bio-pharmaceutical industry. My role, and my way to make amends, is working on a public awareness campaign to increase information and make sure those affected are getting help.

All those years, I prepared to be the face of LanCo. Turns out I am.

I lose focus, doodling on the edge of the presentation folder until people around me push back from their seats.

Madison King, the omega I was sure had it out for me but who has become a kind of friend in the last few months, makes her way over to me and leans against the edge of the boardroom table. We're in close proximity often since she's mated to the Kings and works with the hospital foundation. While she's sarcastic, she's also surprisingly nice. And kinda funny. But right now, she looks hesitant, and it makes me nervous.

She fiddles with the chains around her neck, worrying a crystal between her fingers before holding her hand out to me. "Come on. I wanna show you something."

I eye the blond omega wearily. She, of course, looks fabulous in a fashionable bright pink pantsuit while I'm dressed like I'm attending a funeral. I've been wearing black for months, and the gloom has settled into my skin. I'm so damn tired all the time. Whenever she wants to go, I know I don't have the energy or desire to be there.

"Not today. I'm already running late." I jam the folder into my bag, avoiding her piercing look.

She sighs dramatically and studies her nails. "Fine. But the therapy animals visit the long-term stay wing every Thursday evening, and you don't know what you're missing."

"I'll take a rain check." I notice Tristian hovering near the doorway, speaking to one of the doctors from the foundation, and take that as my cue. "But thanks for offering."

I push back from the table, about to get up when she reaches for my wrist. "Hey. I know it's none of my business, and I'm not trying to push you out, but it would be okay if you took a step back now. I promise the infrastructure is in place."

"I look that bad, huh?" I swallow around the lump in my throat, my scent billowing embarrassment. If Madison can see I'm a wreck and she's being kind about it, that means I must really be a mess.

She shakes her head, looking exasperated. "Girlie, don't take this as anything more than I'm worried about you. You've been going at this for months, and you look like you need a break. Don't you have a heat coming up? You'd have to?—"

Shit. It's April. How could I have forgotten that means a heat is coming in May? I don't have time for a heat. And the thought of a sex marathon sounds exhausting, even if it's with my mates.

I swear I had this whole omega thing down for, like, a solid month. I rocked that shit so hard. Then everything exploded, and I've been ignoring all but the urgent crisis in front of me.

Madison scrunches her face into some kind of grimace. "Didn't mean to bring that up if we're ignoring it. I'm the queen of ignoring shit, so I feel you. Want me to ask Alex to get you suppressants? I'm sure we could get it done before you leave."

"No. It's fine. With everything going on, I guess it slipped my mind." I walk with her through the boardroom, lost in thought.

She leans in and speaks quietly in my ear before we reach the door. "Let me know if you change your mind. About any of it, okay?"

"Thanks," I mumble.

She eyes me again, worry still evident in her expression, before her alpha Luca whisks her away.

In the hallway outside the boardroom, Tristian stands waiting. He looks debonair in his suit and long coat. The grey scarf artfully tossed around his neck makes his light eyes stand out. But under all that, he's still my caring alpha. He looks worried too. It seems to be a trend.

I'm obviously not fooling anyone. I've been having panic attacks since the funeral. My sleep has been restless. I'm tired. Weepy. And even with de-scenter, I can smell my sadness.

My mates constantly send me reassurance through the bond, so I know whatever I'm sending them is probably horrifying. Thank goodness I don't understand enough about how that works because I have a feeling that if I really knew, I would be mortified.

I know how I'm coping isn't healthy. But I don't know how to stop. There's so much to do. So many problems need my attention. It falls on me. I'm not trying to worry anybody, but for right now, I need to be okay with not being okay. If I can keep it together a little longer, maybe I can get a handle on it.

Tristian kisses me hello, his lips a reassurance I desperately need. I pull back before I'm ready, mindful of where we are.

He hands me a coffee and a paper bag. "For the road. How did it go?"

I groan at the smell of the grilled tomato and cheese sandwich, my stomach rumbling. When was the last time I ate? I rack my brain and realize it was this morning.

We discovered these sandwiches at a cart in the hospital and they're seriously delicious. Pesto. Cheese. Grilled tomato. It's the best thing about being in the city.

Tristian tucks me under his arm and steers us toward the elevator while I sip the coffee, hoping it will give me enough energy to finish the day.

Tristian and I wait in the hospital lobby while the security team clears an exit. We make it to the waiting SUV without being hounded, but as soon as we leave the hospital gates, the shouts of protestors and the blaring lights of media vans surround us.

My hands shake, and I stuff them under my thighs.

Cursing, Tristian unbuckles his seat belt, scooting closer on the bench and pulling me into his chest. "Coffee was a bad idea." He rubs his cheek against my hair, scent marking me, his warm hands traveling up and down my back.

"No, I needed it." I suck in his espresso and ink scent, trying to let it wash away the itching under my skin. It helps, but it's not enough to make it disappear.

I swallow a whine and close my eyes, trying to block it out. Be strong for a little longer.

"No. Pass me that other bag, with the blankets, but try not to touch it," Tristian calls to the security team driving.

There is rustling, I'm jostled, then the scent of my pack surrounds me. Tristian pulls the blanket tighter, and I can finally breathe. I open my eyes, and the sight of one of my nest blankets is my undoing. The tears fall freely but silently.

I rub the edge of the worn material between my fingers. The scents of my mates make some of the coldness seep out of my bones. Tristian's purr vibrates from deep in his chest. I try to hang on, but the world fades before we pick up Logan.