1. Silver

one

Silver

Three years and three months ago

I squeeze myself into the tightest possible ball, curled up on the shitty blankets that Onyx gave me. The pounding won't stop. I choke out a sob and look out the window. Can I survive a jump? Do I want to? What if I didn't? Would they stop if I were injured? That last thought is one of two that keeps me on the bed. What if they caught Onyx: is the other.

I shake the thoughts off and check the time. Onyx will be home soon. They'll stop. There's just a short time left, I just need to get through this night. I'm so tired. I think one of my ribs may be broken, and there's a cut in my mouth where thumbs squeeze my cheeks against my teeth.

Where is Onyx?

Why isn't she here?

Resentment flares up, and I tamp it down. She can't know. If she finds out…what happened to me will happen to her.

I close my eyes and count slowly. One, I love music. Two, I love green grass. Three, I can do this. Four, one more day. Five, I can keep Onyx safe. Six, I love my sister.

The banging fades away as I let myself float into memories when we were happy and safe.

Present Day

There's a river of tumultuous, pure panic living inside me, rocking my foundations and threatening everything I've worked for. What am I going to do? How am I going to survive? A mocking voice of laughter echoes in my mind during those quiet hours as I ponder those questions. Sometimes it sounds like my mother. Sometimes it's my father's voice ruining me. Other times it's the voices beyond the door. They all want to see me crash and burn.

This voice jeers at me, laughing and telling me I will get what I deserve. I dread those words. What do I deserve? I know what those voices say, but are they right?

Silver Davies, the omega thief who tried to steal her twins' happiness. I can hear what they say about me. It's not like they whisper. I'm supposed to hear it all. For all these years, I know what they still think. I think it, too. But do I really deserve to have this life?

I think I do. I think I'm cursed.

My pack passed away in a car accident years before Onyx so rightly dumped my selfish ass on the doorstep of the Omega Refuge. It was by chance that their scents awoke something inside me. The lingering scent was still strong on the fabric of the coat I was taking in for donation. When I'd inquired in a choked, hopeful whisper, thinking that perhaps this was the moment I'd find something worth living for, I'd been told the horrible truth. It happened years ago. The woman so burdened with age and sorrow had poured out the entire story of her grandson and his entire pack. A tragedy. All gone in the blink of an eye.

My own personal penance. How could I be so stupid as to dream there might be a way out of this hell that I'm existing in? Perhaps they are better off, rather than with me.

I pick up the basket of washed clothes and carry it through the cold, clinical halls that have been my home for the last three years. The bitter antiseptic scent in the air is barely noticeable to me now. The cold through my slippers is familiar, and the cream-painted walls with the laminated signs are walls that protect me now. This isn't the jail they meant it to be. It's freedom.

I think I cried myself to sleep for six months after I learned about my scent matches. I didn't care about my exile, but I cared about them. At the end of the day, I never knew them, and my dream was over before it began. I'm cursed to live a life of silent suffering. I brought it on myself, though. My jealousy drove me to bitter, cruel words towards my sister. And then desperation pushed me into doing something unforgivable. I finally understood what Onyx had, what I almost ruined for her. That understanding has brought nothing but a wall of unrelenting shame that pounds against my psyche day in and day out.

Three years have passed since that event, since the Omega Meet. Three more of those annual events have occurred. Where three more opportunities that I don't have present themselves to hopeful omegas and optimistic packs. Those horrible days of my worst self replay during the weeks of the Omega Meets in my mind's eye and in my dreams. I haven't seen Onyx since the day she dropped me off here. I can't. There's so much work to do, things I need to atone for.

This refuge is more than just my freedom. It's a place that helps women, gives them safety. Only one man is allowed in these hallowed halls, Doctor Shultz. An alpha who is cold but efficient and gentle with his care. The rest of the world might fear him, but here he is, the sword and shield that protects us.

A woman creeps out of a room, her shoulders curled in. She glances up and down the hallway, and when she spots me, her eyes widen, and her hand trembles. I give her my softest smile and avert my eyes, leaving her in peace.

At the end of the hall, I'm faced with two directions I can choose. Right takes me to the cafeteria, where our on-site chef, Glinda, is cooking up a storm. Back there are the staff rooms, the medical room, and The Director of the Refuge; Jenny Lathem and her personal office.

I turn left and put my palm on the security key. It unlocks, and I push the door open and slip into our enormous hall. There are several adjoined rooms. But the hall is lined with tables. On most of those tables are boxes, nice and sealed up.

"Have you finished with this, Silver?"

I glance up, straight into the beautiful eyes of the tiny omega, Jade from Pack Mortenson. Her alphas, Sven and Adrian Shultz, the doctor himself, are standing behind her. She smiles widely at me. I have tried my absolute best to shake this omega, but she decided a year ago we were going to be friends, and that was it.

Nothing I did or said has changed her mind and, to be honest, I like her a lot. She's braver than most people I know and open-minded. Still, I try to maintain that wall because I don't want her to hate me, and everyone always does, eventually.

"Yes, all the bags are boxed up and are ready to be taken to the charity auction." I run my fingers through my hair and quickly secure it back into a loose bun.

Jade smiles and directs the two men towards the table filled with boxes and bags of goodies for the guests tomorrow. The truck should be here in an hour, thus everyone is moving everything out, getting it ready for a swift transportation. It's not our first rodeo.

I hear whispers and glance back over my shoulder.

Pack Vore has come into the refuge and, like they are the sun, they draw the eyes of everyone around. People love and respect them. They have impeccable reputations, and everyone who is anyway wants to be around them. I've seen the pack a lot in the past year. With each passing month, they look colder, harder. No one seems to notice, though. They just see what they want to see. And Pack Vore are wealthy, talented, and extremely attractive alphas with no mate.

They never look at me with any kindness, not like they used to, not when they courted me. Seeing them reminds me of how awful I was, so I don't look forward to their appearances. Despite it being near impossible not to stare at them and remember the way they were.

Ian spots me, and his hard gaze holds me captive. I turn my head away in jerky movements, wishing I could slow my heart's reaction to his glare. Their story is as tragic as mine. Their omega found another pack and chose the rich alphas over her scent matches. It's the type of thing I would have done, so I understand why they hate me. It's just the only people I know who could understand what I'm going through are right there. They are really incredible guys, they just hate me like everyone else.

They aren't exactly wrong. There was a moment when I thought we could have been something, had something, but I blew it.

The thought of ‘what if' keeps me up at night, laying alone on my cot, remembering the way he said my name. When I picture my pack, I don't see these faceless men. I see Pack Vore. I have since I met them, those first few days of the Omega Meet before Silas Hastings gave me a ticket to ruin my life.

It's sick. It's perverted. It's punitive. I can't stop from seeing them, dreaming about them, fantasizing about them.

No one knows about my pack. No one knows I mourned for strangers for months. I don't even know their names; I didn't ask. Pack Vore met theirs. They caught her scent, had a meeting, and she chose another pack. It's worse in a way than what I've gone through. I just want to ask if they're okay. I just want to tell them I know how it feels and that I'm sorry.

What a joke. They're talking to Jenny now, and she's fluffing her grey hair. Several of the hired workers are giggling and standing close, waiting for Jenny to leave so they can pounce.

I sigh heavily and close up another box. It takes me a moment to get a label on it and slide it out of my way. I grab another empty box and start piling the folded up clothes into it.

If I had known this pack was respectable, had power, had influence, would I have turned them down? Pack Vore is everything I wanted all those years ago. I did not know at the time that they could have been the answer I was seeking. But I'm not bitter. Even when they think I'm the same omega they used to know.

Sometimes I want to scream at the world. Shout that I've changed. I had to change. I'm better. I'm different. Other days, I want to run somewhere new, a fresh start.

But I love my sister. I really do. I never appreciated how much she did for me. Not until she was gone. I have to make up for what I did wrong. That's the only reason I'm still here.

"Silver?"

I jerk my eyes up and find Ian standing there. Right there, beside me. I break into a cold sweat and drop my gaze to the table in front of me. Shit, how did he get so close? I vividly remember standing before him when he looked at me with kindness and interest. That's long gone. Disdain is the expression of the hour. Distaste is the perfume that flavours our interactions.

"Hi, Ian," I say softly. "How can I help you?"

Why does he smell so good? Like sandalwood.

"Still working here?" His blue eyes trail over the deft way I pack the last box. His hair is too long, I like it better short, he's got the kind of blond hair you want to run your fingertips through. And he's tall, much taller than me. The kind of tall that when you hug them, you know you're going to feel safe and protected.

"Yes. The refuge needs me," I whisper. Shame is an oozing wound inside me. I can't look at him, I don't deserve it.

He frowns. "I find that hard to believe. They could get along without you, surely."

I wince. He's not wrong. I'm just a set of hands. I'm not important. "Look, Ian, I just work here. This is what I do now. I've changed. It's been three years. People can change." My voice takes on a desperate sound I dislike intensely. It's not making a speck of difference to him.

He curls his lip and glances over my shoulder. My heart jerks, lifting into my throat and strangling me as I catch their scent. Pack Vore are the only pack from my past that speaks to me anymore. I don't really have anything to do with the packs, and I try to avoid anything to do with my sister.

I want them to like me.

Weston and Quinton close the distance. If Ian's tall, they are giants. Thin, lanky giants with black hair to their chins. They're twins but not exactly identical. Weston's hair has a wave, and his smile is crooked. He's much happier and more extroverted. Quinton is more serious, with harder blue-grey eyes than his brother. But the way they smile, especially at each other, is everything to me. It's like the world doesn't even matter, it always captivates me.

They make me ache for the could-have-been relationship with my twin.

The last member of Pack Vore is Ross. He's shorter than the others, and he's always humming or playing his guitar. His voice is unreal, but when he combines it with the intricate strumming, you can't look away. Ross plays magic, not music.

I've spent so many stolen moments secretly listening to him play, brushing away tears. His music reaches in and touches my soul. He brings out all the yearnings I have but can't voice. He exposes me.

Ross has kind eyes that are green with tiny flecks of gold. His front tooth is chipped, and he's one of the kindest people I've ever met. His perfect, joyful soul shines out of every pore on his body.

The pack moves in my direction. I can feel them all around me, but then I catch sight of something else. Something that can push even Pack Vore from my mind.

The door opens, and I still, spotting my sister and her omega, Dylan. Damn it. I spin on my heel and stalk towards the locked doors that will let me back in the refuge. Ian grabs my arm right as I get to the glass door. I look over my shoulder, panicking when I see Onyx getting closer. She's spotted me, is staring at me, she's saying something, but I can't hear over the rush of panic.

"Let go."

"No, I want to have this conversation with you-"

I elbow him hard in the stomach and scramble through the doors, using my badge. I quickly step inside the facility and out of sight.

But not out of earshot.

"Silver's still not talking to you, then?" Ian asks.

"No, I'm afraid not. She sure can hold a grudge." Onyx sounds sad, but I don't care. She'd be sadder if I was in her life.

"You helped her. You saved her ungrateful ass and got her a roof over her head. She should thank you."

"Thanks, Ian, but I don't think she's ever going to forgive me."

"Forget about her. Ross has a song he needs heard. He wants someone to act as an audience. Want to hear it?"

Jealousy burns in my chest, and I squeeze my eyes closed so I don't have to hear anymore. She has everything, and I have nothing. Onyx will never understand how hard it was for me. Memories flash through my mind, and I start gasping. I clutch at the wall, struggling to breathe.

How terrifying it was to sit and listen to alphas banging on the door, trying to break in. How monstrous it was to exist when they waited until she left for work, calling for me endlessly through the thin wood. Sometimes succeeding in breaking in and taking what they wanted. She will never know about the times I went with strange men just so I could escape the ones hunting me. How tired I always was. How she thought I was home all day, and I was just being hunted in my home, in my neighbourhood, everywhere. I didn't tell her that hunger made me weak, and weak made me vulnerable. I never explained how much I resented her ability to escape.

I could never look her in the eyes, so I lashed out instead. Causing hurt to hide my pain because I was just so ashamed.

Shame, that memory of shame, is a bucket of ice water that douses the flames and calms my panic. There is no escape from the past. No way to fix what is so wrong.

I ruined myself. No, they ruined me. Until there was nothing good left. All I wanted was to be safe. And, sure, it got a little out of control. Money equaled safety in my eyes. Power meant I'd never have to be that scared, helpless omega again. I could stop all the pain. I could do anything. All I needed to do was use what I had to protect myself.

It didn't work. It failed epically. I lost my chance at a pack. My sister. My home. All of it was gone.

Onyx had freedom. Now she has power, safety, and love.

How can I tell her what life was like? How can I explain and see the pity in her eyes? Or have her ask why I didn't tell her? Like I could? Would she even believe me? I didn't trust her not to leave me. Our mother hated me. Our father did, too. He just hated Onyx more. But our mother…she was supposed to love me, too.

But she treated me like a rival. Like a challenger. Like a threat. Onyx was her loving child, the beta of her heart. I was the omega unwanted, the cause of her suffering.

I was a child.

I slip around the corner, looking inside the hall, and find it empty. I go back inside and pick up two boxes. Then I carry them back to the table and start filling bags. That's all I do now. Work. It's all I'm good for.

"Ian thinks you ran."

I tense and force myself to relax, shrug, and keep working, pressing my lips into a thin line.

"Yet, here you are working again. You didn't run from work or from him. You ran from your sister."

Quinton's words hurt. He's a twin. He knows how it feels to be so close to someone you wonder why you have separate skins.

"Onyx is happy and not part of my life anymore," I say tightly, refusing to cower.

He rounds the table and ducks his head down until he's staring me right in the eyes. I freeze, frozen under his knowledgeable glare. "She's your twin. Cutting her off is either the cruelest thing you've done or the most painful."

"Why can't it be both?"

"You're selfish to inflict such damage on your sister. She's been nothing but kind to you, even when you don't deserve it."

I flinch at that savage cut.

"Perhaps my cruelty is kindness," I mutter so softly he doesn't hear me.

"A twin is a gift."

"Or a curse."

His eyes get colder. "Yes, I can see how she might consider you a curse."

I flinch again but keep focusing on packing the boxes, even when he snarls and turns on his heel and storms away. I sniff to stop the urge to cry, but still, my eyes blur.

I am the curse, and it's better for everyone if I'm alone.