4. Silver

four

Silver

Three years and one month ago

I wasn't going to show up, but I promised, and there is something about them that dares me to step out and take a chance. Onyx is going to be mad. I snuck out again, and they were so happy to see me. I kept waiting, but nothing bad happened. They are really nice. No one broke my ribs or held me down. No one called me a whore and slapped me until my face was numb. Is this real?

Present Day

There is a bond mark on my wrist.

No matter how many times I rub at it, it's not coming off. Ian fucking Vore bonded me. He barked at me and made me bond him. I can feel him inside my chest, his rage, the cold and icy disdain he feels every time he looks at me. It's like he's projecting all those feelings up into this giant wall, so I can't actually feel that he's a person. Ian has simply become one massive ball of ‘I hate Silver'.

Yeah! I hear you! "Asshole alpha," I grumble when he shoots a glare in my direction.

I sniffle and swipe at the tears. I hate feeling this vulnerable and weak.

I sit up and swing my legs over the bed. It's been a day or two, I think. After he left, I collapsed and passed out. When I woke up, there was water beside me and Onyx.

For the first time in years, we were within speaking distance. It was strangely absent of all the pain I'd been expecting. I kept waiting for her accusations, her recriminations, but Onyx didn't do any of that. My sister wrapped her arms around me and helped me to the toilet. She said nothing as she helped me drink the water and take the painkillers, either. We stared at each other, and I've never felt so far away from her as I did in that moment. Onyx is like an angel, and I'm from hell.

"Go to sleep, Silvie," she'd whispered like we were still sisters. Like we still cared and had a connection. Like I was someone she cares about.

Today is a new day with a bright morning in the Vore household, and she's not here. I can hear people moving deeper in the house. The Pack doing daily things. This is their home. Their scents permeate the air, the surfaces, and even me. It makes a girl want to cry.

Ross smells like roasting chestnuts. It's such a warm and snuggly scent, and it makes my mouth water. I remember being at camp before everything went to hell, while a boy showed me how to cook them. I don't remember his face, but I remember that feeling of joy. That's what Ross's scent reminds me of; joy.

Ian's smell fills the air and invades every single space. Sandalwood. It's a scent I want to draw into my lungs and keep ingesting. Strong, sensual, homey. The first time I met him, I was sneaking around the resort while Onyx was in training. I bounced into his chest and started to fall. He caught me and smiled. It was the most swoon-worthy moment. I felt safe and thrilled. Ian was the promise of a new chance.

The twins, though…they have different types of scents. Subtle. Quint's scent is more like the scent you smell just before a huge thunderstorm hits the city, while Weston's is the scent before snow hits the city. They are unstoppable forces, ungoverned by the laws of humanity or designation. Bringing change and excitement.

Both are two of my favourite scents in the world.

I frown. They never used to be. I hated storms. But that was before. Storms are my friend now, I can hide in a storm. I can vanish in a storm.

I climb out of bed and notice the IV has been removed from my arm. A tiny little band aid has been put over the wound. Somehow, I don't think it was Ian.

I find my bag and quickly go through it. I find a pair of jeans that don't smell quite so bad, and a jumper. It's warm today, but everything else is dirty. I'm just going to make do.

I pack everything up, duck into the bathroom, have the world's quickest shower, and get dressed before anyone can come and yell at me.

I peer around the house as I tiptoe out of the room. There's no one in sight, but I'm shocked by the wealth. I didn't pay attention in my room, but now I can see it. I think the floor is granite. It's modern, one of those beautiful showplace homes. Everything is sleek lines, with perfect finishes. There are pieces of the pack everywhere. A bracket on the wall holds a plant with huge leaves. Shoes at the end of the hallway, outside a bedroom.

The hallway I'm in opens into an open plan space. There's a sliding glass set of doors framing a garden paradise, a kitchen with silver and black appliances, and a huge stove. The fridge is covered in photos, and there are stickers on two cupboards. A huge dining table takes up a massive portion of space and manages to look tiny inside the enormous room. There's a laptop left behind, sitting on the table with a coffee beside it. I wonder if someone just stepped out of the room.

I stare at the fridge. My stomach seizes, groaning loudly. Maybe I could just steal some bread? I mean, they hate me anyway. What does being a thief matter on top of being a selfish waste of space omega?

Two steps towards the kitchen, and I'm frozen, unable to do it. I don't want them to think worse of me. With a regretful sigh, I turn on my heel, heading towards the sliding glass doors. I hitch my bag up on my shoulder and slowly crack the door open.

"Silver?"

I freeze with one foot through the door. I could run now, but I don't think I'd get far. My body is shaking already. I need to eat, but I have no money.

Fuck.

Desperation has me slowly turning back to the alpha who called my name.

"Where are you going?" Ross asks gently.

"Home," I say belligerently.

"You have somewhere you're staying?"

I hesitate and nod my head, refusing to admit to the lie out loud.

Ross steps out towards me, bringing that delicious scent of roasting chestnuts. His eyes soften as he assesses me. I don't know what decision he comes to, but my embarrassment is complete. He can see through all my lies, I'm sure of it.

"You're going to have something to eat, aren't you?" Ross asks with a smile. "I'm cooking this morning, and I'm not bad, if I do say so myself. Take a seat at the counter, and I'll have a plate ready in a jiffy."

"Jiffy?" I tease before I remember where I am and who I'm not.

Ross winks at me. Those green eyes look even kinder when he's walking barefoot in his own house. I want to run my fingers through the brown hair at the base of his neck.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask him to remind us both who we really are.

"Doing what?" Ross asks, frowning at the fridge.

"Helping me."

"Why wouldn't we help you, Silver? We all run in the same circle. You look like you need help. We have it to give, plus, I like you. I always have. I don't want to see you sick or hurt."

My eyes burn, and I look down at my hands. My fingers are red, the skin peeling and cut near my fingernails. Hell, even my knuckles are split.

"Ian hates me," I whisper quietly.

"If Ian really hated you, he wouldn't have bonded you. He also wouldn't have carried you home and sat with you all night. You hurt his ego, his pride is wounded. He'll get over it," Ross says flippantly. He can say that, he looks amazing in a pair of black jeans and a simple t-shirt. Casual yet expensive. He doesn't know what it's like.

"Don't have much of a choice now, do we?" A second voice says.

I stiffen as Quinton pulls up a stool beside me. He puts his chin on his hand and stares at me. I stare back. Quint is wearing a black jumper and shorts. His feet are bare. I try really hard not to let my eyes descend down his body. Nope, not even a little bit curious.

"You're our omega. Stuck with us." He elaborates.

"No, that doesn't have to be true. I can leave-" I stutter out.

"Leave? No!" Ross says sharply. "Stay. Let us help you. Just until you're stronger."

"Mmm, and then we can work out how to unbond you."

My heart freezes and jumps in my chest. It hurts. I can't deny it. I deserve it, though.

"Don't be a dick, Quint." Weston sits on the other side of me, moving so close his thigh is pressed to mine. He's wearing a singlet. There is so much skin visible, and it's like being starving and walking into a buffet. As hard as I try not to look, I can't look away. "Morning, sweetie."

I peer at him, confused by the kindness. Weston's slightly curly hair is even curlier when it's wet. A ringlet hangs near his chin, drawing my eyes to his lips, which are full and lush.

Damn it, he's as pretty as I remember.

"Morning," I mumble belatedly.

"Feeling better?"

"She will be once she's had something to eat."

I sense him long before he appears. Ian comes towards us in an ocean wave of coldness.

Weston notices how tense I am and leans in close to me, putting a hand on my thigh as if he's trying to reassure me.

"Don't worry about him. He's like this all the time."

I keep my eyes on the counter as Ian sweeps into the kitchen. I can feel his probing stare, but I don't acknowledge him at all. Even when I shiver, I keep my gaze on the bond mark on my wrist. Why did he do it? It makes no sense.

My heart is going to beat out of my chest.

"I thought you'd be gone."

I wince.

"Sorry to disappoint," I snap back. It's better to be defensive. It's better to attack back.

"If you were sorry, you'd be gone."

I reach down, sliding off the stool, and hoist my backpack over my shoulder.

"Ian! Shut the fuck up!" Ross shouts. "Omega, sit. You can eat first, and then run away."

Weston has hold of my arm, and Quinton is standing between me and the door. I don't even know why, but there's no way to escape.

I am starving.

Weston tugs me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. I stand there with wide eyes, staring at his t-shirt. When was the last time I was hugged? I work with battered women. We don't touch each other. I don't have friends or family. It's been…the Omega Meet. That was the last time.

I cautiously lift my arms and loosely put mine on his back. West hugs me tighter, almost lifting me off my feet. I sniffle and close my eyes, allowing the comfort to sink into me. I think I'd give him anything he asked at this moment.

Ross clears his throat, and I try to jump back, but West doesn't let me go. Instead, he grabs a plate with one hand, keeps hold of me with the other, and walks us to the table. He sits down and pulls me onto his lap.

"Eat," he says low in my ear.

When I still hesitate, staring at the mountain of fried foods, he picks up a fork and brings a mouthful to my lips.

"Eat, Omega. Let me feed you."

His words…just melt something inside me. It's one of my fantasies, was one of my fantasies before. Having an alpha who loved me enough to feed me. My lower lip wobbles, and I desperately want to fall into the fantasy.

Don't be a fool, Silver. They don't love you. No one does. You aren't lovable.

I eat in silence, hyper-aware as the alphas come and sit at the table, murmuring in deep voices. Ross reaches out and touches my knee, my hand, my arm. He seeks to reassure me, to make me smile.

I don't even know what to do with it. The Silver that used to be able to flirt and smile charmingly is dead and gone. The touches I hated so much, I'm not desperate for, but I don't know how to react to them.

I'm a husk of who I used to be.

But right now, I'm warm and clean, and my belly is full. It could be the last meal I have for weeks. That's more than I had two days ago.