Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Now Playing: Mistakes- Glasswaves

The living room of my parent’s house has been transformed into a mini theater, with thin blanket curtains hung on a piece of twine across the front of the room. Behind the curtain is a stage made of spare plywood. My nephew Caden sings into a pretend microphone–a cooking spoon–while my twin nieces Evelyn and Eleanor play their own makeshift instruments behind him.

Their performance is a testament to how openly my shitty feelings are being broadcast, otherwise, I doubt anyone could have convinced these preteens to create a pretend rock band using pots and pans.

When the front door opens, Caden stutters over his rendition of one of our songs, his smile growing. “Callisto! Come sit!” He points to the couch next to me, demanding my beta mate join me.

Cal chuckles, slipping off his shoes before sinking onto the cushion, his body pressed against mine. The soft scent of cedar and violet helps dim the storm of regret swirling in my mind and heart. I lift my arm and wrap it around his shoulders, then I turn my attention back to the playful chaos my family always brings.

Caden, Evelyn, and Eleanor step to the front of the stage, swooping into low bows as their show ends. My parents and sisters clap loudly from their seats around the room, whooping and cheering. My heart pangs seeing how easily their support comes. They would never abandon me in a tough situation, they would find a way to be by my side. Just like I should have done at the end of Omen’s heat.

“You guys were kick-ass!” I praise when all three of them turn to face me. Huge grins break across their faces while my sisters throw me light-hearted glares.

I can see the hope in their eyes as clearly as their relief. My family is worried about me, and I know I should feel motivated to ease their concern. Taking steps to take care of myself would be better for everyone, but I can’t bring myself to give a shit what I look like.

What use is clean skin and silky soft hair when my life is falling apart at the seams?

“Definitely record worthy,” Callisto adds.

The trio dances happily, readying for an unrequested encore. Thankfully, my mother swoops in to distract them. “I bet my rock stars are starving after that show!” They chatter noisily as she leads them into the kitchen and starts to pull out all of the fixings for ice cream sundaes.

“Want me to bring you some ice cream, baby brother?” My sister Grace asks on her way to corral her overexcited children.

“I’m good, thank you though.” I don’t want food or words of placation, I just want to know my girl is alive and free from her terrible birth family.

When it’s just me and Cal left in the room, he angles his body so his chest presses against my side, head tilting up to look at me. “She’s alive.” I search his face, afraid to put to voice the question resting on the tip of my tongue. “No she didn’t write to me and I didn’t hear anything from the DAU, but I know it to be true. We’d feel it if she was gone. When you wrote to her on your arm in Los Angeles you felt the messages go through? The warmth from them sending?”

Hope sparks in my chest, the faintest flicker awaiting news to fuel their flames. I nod slowly, fighting through those panicked moments to remember the feeling he is describing. The messages sent, we just hadn’t received a response. “She’s alive,” I repeat his proclamation with a soft breath.

His arms wrap around my chest, holding me tighter. I can feel the quiet racing of his heart beating in time with mine. This isn’t a fix-all. My girl could still be in trouble–captured by the cult her family runs or injured and on the run–but knowing she is alive can be enough to carry me through until we know more.

“Thank you, Songbird,” I whisper. My head drops to his shoulder, my nose burying against his neck so I can soak in more of his soothing scent.

Knowing Omen is out there somewhere has to be enough for now. I can’t give up when there is a chance she still needs me.

Lying on the grass in my parent’s backyard, I stare up at the night sky. The occasional star glimmers above me, shining brighter with the sliver of a moon keeping the sky dark. Callisto brought me out here to relax and watch the meteor shower that’s supposed to be visible.

My beta’s chest rests beneath my head, his hands combing through my hair and scratching along my scalp. The motion is so soothing my eyes begin to droop. Despite Cal’s reassurance our omega is alive, sleep has evaded me. My worry runs too deep for my mind to rest for more than an hour at a time.

“Did you send her another text at dinner?” Callisto asks. My sisters had dragged us out for a kid-free dinner at one of their favorite restaurants a few towns over. Keeping up with my map of promises, I sent Omen a picture of the food I ordered and told her about all the other things I want to do with her when we visit Nashville. Together.

“Yeah,” I slowly reply. She hasn’t responded to my texts either, though that isn’t as worrisome. When her identity was leaked to the world, she was forced into hiding to protect herself. Which meant leaving her phone behind and cutting off all contact with the outside world. “I’ve sent her one every day, except for the day after we got back from Los Angeles.”

“You should order a map,” he suggests. “Like the one you got for Titan’s birthday, but instead of national parks it could be restaurants you want to visit together.”

A smile stretches across my lips, imagining how full the map would be. “That’s a wonderful idea, Songbird.” A dog barks in the distance, filling the gap in our conversation as we watch the dark sky. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“We have an epic grovel ahead of us. Do you have an idea of what you want to do?”

Cal shifts below me, his hand freezing in my hair. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it. I’m still not convinced Omen would consider allowing us the opportunity to apologize, so earning her forgiveness seems impossible.”

I hum, tilting my head up slightly to nudge his hand. He takes the hint and resumes combing his fingers through my hair.

“We will never win her back if we don’t put in the effort she deserves. I know it isn’t going to be easy, the road ahead is long and filled with potholes that could destroy our progress, but I know it will be worth it. I’ll do whatever it takes to have Omen in my arms again. To show her she is meant to be ours. Exactly as Fate intended.”

“And if Nebula can’t see past her connection to the Montgomerys?” His question is spoken so quietly the night breeze nearly carries the words away. I can sense his fear in our bond. A feeling that matches the dread in mine.

“I chose him over her once before, I won’t make the same mistake twice.” Even though it will break me, break all of us, I won’t walk away from my omega again.

Callisto falls quiet, contemplating my promise, as the first of the meteors streaks across the sky. The rest follow quickly, like stars falling from the sky. Closing my eyes, I bundle all of my hope, longing, and regrets into a tiny ball and cast them out into the universe.

Please, Fate, if you are listening, let our paths converge once more. Give me another chance to prove myself to Omen.

We lie in the grass for several minutes, in awe of the phenomenon we’re witnessing. My arm starts to itch, the sensation slowly morphing into the tingling feeling that comes with a message sent through our Fated connection. I shoot upright, hope soaring in my heart, but as Nebula’s familiar bear hug energy wraps around me, the feeling plummets to disappointment.

‘I miss you, and I’m sorry for demanding so much of you.’

Cal’s arms wrap around me, holding me tight as we share the sadness his message brings. I should respond, find some way to make peace with my alpha mate, but the pain from Omen’s disappearance still pulses heavily through my soul.

Until Nebula can try to understand why her absence hurts me, I don’t think I can bring myself to face his apology.

Nebula

Cal and Nexus have only been gone for three days and I’m already losing my mind. Doubt consumes my waking thoughts, and my insomnia is at an all-time high. I’ve slept for maybe eight hours since they left. My body protests the lack of sleep but I’ve been forcing myself to stay up and moving.

If I sit I will spiral, and I can’t afford to be a wreck when my mates come home. I’m their alpha. It’s my job to protect and care for them. Not to break down over my insecurities.

The lack of a response to my messages isn’t helping my mental state either. Titan assures me they’re both fine, that they just need time to cope with her disappearance. It’s hard to accept their reasoning when my insecurities and fears are whispering alarming thoughts in my mind, trying to convince me my mates won’t ever return.

My mates aren’t my parents, I remind myself. They won’t walk away from me when things get rough. Not permanently.

My fist connects with the heavy bag. The rhythmic thud and reverberations of my punch centering my chaotic mind. I’ve basically shut down my bond with my mates, something I never could have imagined myself doing before now. They don’t need to be overwhelmed by my stress when they are taking steps to heal themselves.

Technically I am too. It’s just a slower process for me.

Today was my first session with my new therapist here in Starburgh. Even the introductory visit left me feeling like my chest had been torn open and my heart cut out. I thought I had a good handle on my grief, but since learning who she actually is, it feels as if I’m back to that heartbroken teenager. Abandoned by his family and pissed at the world.

“For someone who just got home from a national tour with sold-out shows, you look like someone kicked your puppy.”

My punch misses the bag and I have to catch myself before I fall. Turning around, I’m surprised to find Caleb Michaels standing behind me. I sort of befriended the alpha during our tour with his band, Orbital Somatic. As much as I could when most of our time was spent chasing after our she-devil photographer anyway.

“Caleb. Didn’t know you were a member here.”

“I wasn’t until recently. We moved out to Starburgh a few days ago. Wanted to be closer to the label, so it’d be easier for us to play smaller shows locally.” He’s maybe an inch taller than I am, but he’s built closer to Cal or Nexus. Lean and athletic without packing on muscle. “Give your knuckles a break and cool down with me?”

“Alright.” I shrug and start unwrapping my gloves. I don’t feel up to hanging out right now, but Caleb is a chill dude and I know he won’t press if I don’t answer.

“I don’t know if you know this,” he starts to talk after a few minutes of stretching. “But I was in another band before I joined Orbital.” I think I remember him or one of his bandmates mentioning it, but the memory is foggy. “A duo with my high school sweetheart. We sang indie songs, closer to pop than rock. She was an omega, too.”

I pause with my hands pressed to the floor between my knees and turn to look at him. He has a wistful look in his blue-gray eyes. A longing I feel deep in my soul. Finding our omega has been my pack’s dream. One we’d stay up late at night whispering about in our beds.

Too bad that dream was shattered the minute Fate mated us to a Montgomery.

“I always thought she was meant to be mine. We fit together like pieces of a puzzle. The pull was undeniable and it grew stronger when we both presented at 18. Leaving her behind to attend the Alpha Academy was one of the toughest decisions I ever had to make.”

“Do you regret it?” The question slips out before I can think it through. I don’t regret my decision to abandon Omen, so I don’t know why his answer seems to matter so much.

“Yes and no. I always wonder what life would be like if we were still together. How different things might have been. But I also know we’re both accomplishing our dreams, something we couldn’t have done together. Not when our musical careers were leading us in opposite directions.” He stands and offers me a hand. I gladly take it and shake out my exhausted limbs. “We weren’t Fate matched mates. Not that we discovered while we were playing together anyway.”

I toss him a bottle of water and grab my own before walking back over to stand across from him. “You felt a pull to her but you weren’t fated to be together?”

“You know how weird these mate bonds can be. Some of them are difficult to figure out.”

I guess he has a point there. I’ve heard of some crazy bond types, like shared pain or emotions. Those would definitely be the ones that are difficult to tell.

“Her family was anti-designation, though not nearly to the same level as the Montgomerys, but anyone who believes that nonsense is trash.” He grunts as he stretches out his shoulders before refocusing on me. “When her parents found out she was an omega… Well I’m lucky I didn’t wind up in jail for beating the shit out of her father when I learned he was putting his hands on her to try to ‘purge the omega out of her.’”

“Shit, that’s fucked up.”

“It was. Very much so. She survived and grew. Became a completely different person once she was out from beneath their thumb.” He grabs his gym bag and tosses it over his shoulder before he turns to look back at me. “I shared this story with you because I saw how wrecked you guys were after Omen’s identity was outed. I don’t know what happened between the five of you, nor do I know her back story. What I do know is I’ve been on the other side of that road. If a powerless anti-designation family like my girl’s was willing to try to beat her designation out of her, what do you think a well-connected family like the Montgomery’s would have done to Omen?”

Caleb doesn’t give me a chance to respond, he just waves and heads toward the exit, calling over his shoulder as he walks away. “It’s something to think about. If she’s your pack’s Fate matched mate, it would be a shame for you guys to reject the connection because of who her family is.”

I’m left to stew in the anger and confusion raging inside my mind and heart. I need a fucking drink to deal with the emotional whiplash I’m experiencing today.

“Another?”

I glance up at the bartender and nod. I’ve been here for a few hours now. I should probably have him cut me off and call a car to take me back to our apartment building but I don’t want to face an empty home. Not when I still feel like my heart is being torn into pieces.

When Callisto had broken down a few days ago, letting me experience everything he’s been holding back, I immediately knew I was failing him. Failing them all. What kind of alpha can’t see when his pack is hurting?

One who is blinded by his anger and grief, apparently. Or so my new therapist says. I thought I’d gotten a better grip on the emotional side effects from the destruction of my family eight years ago, but learning Omen is related to my sister’s killer brought all of those issues roaring back to the surface.

I’ve been pushy and quick to lash out. Violent even, given I’d gotten into a fight with Nexus. I’d put my hands on him out of anger. Something I swore to never do.

Fuck. My head’s spinning. I can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or the turmoil plaguing my thoughts. Probably both.

Gripping the glass of whiskey the bartender left me I down the whole thing in one go. Best to rip the bandage off and go home, before I wind up passing out in this shady bar across town.

Staring out of the taxi window, my thoughts wander to Omen. She and Bea have an apartment here in Starburgh. Is she there? Hiding out in her stupid little nest and having a good laugh watching my mates fall apart?

I wish we’d never met that lying omega. If she hadn’t bulldozed her way into our lives I would be cuddled up at home with my mates right now. Thanks to her bullshit Callisto and Nexus are back in Tennessee.

Literally states away.

All because of Omen.

Stumbling into our apartment, I collapse on the couch. Anger still pumps through my veins, growing with each beat of my heart. I want to tell her to go fuck herself all over again, but without the air of professionalism I used last time. My head turns and I spy the markers we keep on our coffee table for responding to messages when we’re apart. I can tell her.

The words are barely legible with how much my hand sways, but they go through all the same. The pen clatters to the floor when I’m finished.

I stare at the words, rereading them. A small part of me, the instinct I’ve buried deep in my subconscious, tries to make me regret them, but I shove those bastard thoughts aside. I’m right to be pissed. Omen and her entire fucking family are villains and no one can convince me otherwise.