Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

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After spending the past week packing, then putting everything into trucks this morning, we finally have everything unloaded in our new apartment. Having the Powell pack and some of their friends from the DAU here to help us move makes the entire process easier and faster.

Placing the last box in the bathroom, my stomach growls loudly. Laughter booms from the kitchen and my face heats as I turn to scowl at whoever is there, but the twist falls from my lips when I see one of the heads of the DAU, Donovan Griffith, holding a massive stack of pizzas.

Donovan is an alpha in his sixties with salt and pepper hair, cut longer on top and shorter along the sides. His well-trimmed facial hair adds a rugged touch to the giant marshmallow he really is.

We met right after I was brought to the DAU. Given my birth family’s public influence and their role in the rising aggression of the anti-designation movement, my case was considered high profile enough to warrant a face-to-face meeting. He helped ease my anxiety experiencing life as an omega who was meeting an alpha for the first time after presenting.

He’s a pain in the ass at times, but he always has my best interests in mind. It was his decision to place me with the Powells. A choice I am grateful for every day.

“Here y’go kid.” He grins as he hands me a plate loaded with a few slices of cheesy, saucy goodness. “Don’t want a hungry omega terrorizing this bunch.” I roll my eyes. He isn’t wrong. Mumbling thanks, I dig into the food.

The room is filled with the soft chatter of our family and friends, so I’m surprised when Donovan sits down beside me on the couch instead of joining the other men standing by the island separating the kitchen and living room.

“Heard you got a pretty cool job offer.” He finally shifts his attention fully to me after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Yeah, I did.” I smile. “Working with one of the bands at Soulbound Echo Studios as their tour photographer.”

Donovan hums thoughtfully as he studies me. My stomach sinks at the look in his eyes. “I’m not going to tell you to turn down the job, kid. I know you deserve to be able to chase your dreams as much as any other person in this world,” he tells me gently.

“But?” We both know there’s a catch to his approval.

“But, we are assigning you a bodyguard for the duration of the tour. Tensions are too high right now, and seeing the stops the tour will make… We won’t risk your safety.”

The pizza churns angrily in my stomach. While it isn’t unheard of for rescued omegas to be assigned a bodyguard, it usually only happens when they are at risk of being discovered by the family or captors they left behind.

“Has something happened? Have they found my new identity?” My voice breaks with the words. I’ve always known there is a chance my birth family will find me. That knowledge doesn’t make handling the possibility any easier.

Flashes of my childhood shutter through my mind before settling on one painful, fear-filled memory.

The scent of rosemary and bergamot pouring from my brother’s open bedroom door is suffocating. My sister, Hannah, holds a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, forcing me to take steady inhales through my nose. Tears soak both our cheeks as we listen to Father’s enraged screams inside.

Our brother presented as an alpha.

A designation of sin.

“You dare to look upon me and speak of His plan? You, the worthless bastard of my loins, whose sins have cursed him with this alpha status?”

My body shakes in terror hearing the vitriol in my father's voice. The sound of his hand connecting with my brother’s face rings down the hallway.

“You will learn to control your scent and instincts through blood and pain. This will be a lesson to the rest of the congregational youth. A reminder of the consequences for those who live in sin.”

Father marches from the room in the opposite direction of where Hannah and I remain hidden. His fury palpable as he calls an emergency service for all of the teens and preteens who attend his church. My stomach rolls knowing I will be required to be there too.

“Come, sweet gremlin, let’s get you cleaned up before Mother comes to fetch you.”

I let my sister lead me to my bedroom where she picks out another of the floral long-sleeve dresses I’m required to wear to church. I feel numb as I slip the scratchy material over my head, shocked by my parent’s reaction.

Hearing their hate-filled speeches about the designations, I always assumed they would change their minds if one of their children were to present as an alpha or an omega. Instead, their disgust is amplified. Their hatred the purest I’ve ever seen. I may not present for another six years, but the fear exists all the same. I’m terrified I will be an alpha or an omega and face my father’s wrath as punishment.

“Sarah,” Mother’s cold voice calls from the doorway. Her cheek and throat are bright red, signs she bore the weight of some of Father’s anger. She hums, her lips pursing as she looks me over. Annoyance and disgust fill her dark brown eyes. “You are presentable at least. Maybe do something with that rat’s nest you call hair next time.” She says nothing else as she turns and leaves.

I follow, as expected, my head low and my hands clasped in front of me. Silence turns to the quiet chatter of the adults dropping their children off per my father’s order. None of the other children speak, unwilling to incur their wrath with so much tension already in the air.

I glance back when we reach the open doors to the church, wishing Hannah was young enough to attend with me. She shakes her head from the side of her husband’s car. Not a trace of her fear or sadness in sight.

Mimicking her, I imagine a breaker box in my mind and slowly shut off all of my emotions. My face and mind are blank as I follow the crowd to my spot in the front row of pews.

Fifteen minutes pass before my father arrives. His green eyes alight with the promise of pain as he gazes out upon us from before the cross. “Tonight, you shall bear witness to my son’s deliverance. He has been born in sin. Accepted the touch of the devil on his soul and welcomed the curse of the designations into his heart. Let his punishment steer you along the righteous path.”

My brother-in-law and uncle drag my brother out from the back and toss him down onto the tiled floor before Father’s feet. A sneer lights his face as he looks down upon his son, but it’s the acceptance I see in my brother’s eyes that breaks me. He’s doing this willingly. Accepting whatever cruel fate Father has created for him. Maybe he even believes he is deserving of this punishment.

My lips clamp shut, my teeth digging into my cheeks and tongue to prevent myself from crying out as I watch the three older men bring their belts down onto my brother’s exposed back.

Over and over again, they beat him. Blood seeps down to the floor as his skin breaks open, yet they still don’t stop. They move to his arms and legs when his back is too mangled to continue. Refusing to stop until his scent is diminished and his sins are atoned for in the eyes of God.

Bile and blood coat my tongue as we are forced to watch this brutal act. No one deserves to be treated this way. To be broken in the name of their creator. What kind of God wishes such pain upon his creations?

When the bergamot and rosemary scent finally fades, and my brother forces himself to his knees to seek the Lord’s forgiveness, I have hope this nightmare will end.

I force myself to focus on a point above my father’s shoulder as he speaks. Unwilling to risk my gaze dropping to the mangled mess of my brother’s body for fear I would begin crying.

Confusion fills my mind as the church doors open and the majority of the adult congregation trickles in. I was so focused on avoiding looking at my brother, I didn’t hear Father calling them in.

My hands tremble in my lap as I watch my mother drop to her knees in the puddle of my brother’s blood. She’s the picture of calm acceptance with her head bowed and her body still. I notice she changed from her usual church dress to one dipping low on her back. One Father would say is only for fundraisers.

“Tonight, you witness a second act of repentance. For my son to be born in sin, his mother must have bathed in it while carrying him. Isn’t that right, wife?”

“I beg the Lord’s forgiveness for the sins of my womb,” Mother recites lightly. Her mouth barely moves as she speaks the words, but they carry through the church regardless.

“You will carry the weight of His forgiveness,” my father demands.

Horror steals my breath as my Uncle reappears, carrying a branding iron in his hand. The tip is bright red when he passes it to my father, who immediately presses the burning metal into the skin of Mother’s back. The stench of smoke and burned flesh fills the air, making me choke on a gag. My eyes water as I fight back the tears threatening to spill from them.

“Only through the elimination of the evil designations have brought to our world shall we earn entry into heaven. Through blood and pain, we shall find absolution. Let us pray.”

The rest of his sermon is a blur in my mind. The appalling acts I was forced to watch shattered my ability to think coherently.

When the moon is high in the sky and the house is still with sleep, I slip from my bed and pad silently to my mother’s bedroom. The door creaks slightly as I nudge it open. I may be punished for sneaking in here, but I need to check on her.

“Mother?” I whisper her name when I reach the edge of her bed. She sighs and sits up to turn on the bedside lamp.

“What reason do you have for this late-night disturbance, child?”

“A-are you alright?” I wince when she sneers, but I trudge on. “Your back… They hurt you, momma.” My head is knocked to the side when her palm connects with my cheek. A reprimand for addressing her so comfortably.

“Stupid child. The memory of the pain I felt today will always be carried with me. A reminder of the consequences of our sins. I chose this punishment as penance for the evil I allowed to plague my soul during my pregnancy with your brother. Let what you witnessed this evening be a lesson and move toward the peace your father is going to bring to this world once more.”

“Omen, look at me.” Donovan’s bark forces me out of the memory and back to the present. The room is silent, filled with the sour scent of my distress.

Shelby moves quickly to open a few windows and gets the group concentrated back on their own conversations. I’m thankful for the reprieve from their attention. I can’t handle the looks of concern and pity I always see reflected in their eyes when I start to spiral.

Forcing out a gasping breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, I clench the edge of our couch between my fingers to try to steady myself in the depths of my panic.

“As far as we are aware, neither your parents nor their associates have discovered your identity or location. I’m guessing you haven’t been watching the news?” Donovan asks cautiously.

I shake my head. Following the news outlets made it too easy for me to spiral over the past several years. Too many times I would flip on the television and see my birth father, or one of his friends, spreading hatred. It was triggering to hear his venomous messages, even in their voices.

Donovan pulls his cell phone from his pocket and opens up a web browser. Several moments later, he passes the device to me. On the screen is a video of my birth father standing beside Senator Adam Pierson. I can’t hold back a shudder as I press play to start the clip.

I only make it a few words before I have to mute the sound. My hands shake from the anxiety still coursing through my body. “Can you…” I start to ask.

Donovan purrs lightly, the general purr of an alpha soothing any omega. “There’s an article below the video.”

Feeling silly for not realizing reading was an option, I quickly scroll down. The words float through my mind, not fully processing them. None of the information revealed is surprising, yet it still changes everything. Senator Pierson has announced his intention to run for President in the upcoming election using my father’s ideology as backing for his entire campaign.

I swallow down the bile rising in my throat at the prospect. If Pierson were to make it into office… omegas and alphas across the country would be in danger. Even if the Senators from safe states opposed Pierson’s proposed changes, he would use his position to enforce the illegal actions he currently takes behind the scenes. Forcing alphas and omegas to allow men like the vile Doctor Harrison to use them for his experiments on destroying pack bonds and eliminating designation-related biological reactions.

“We have a candidate of our own in the running, and we have high hopes Pierson won’t succeed. However, they plan to start a campaign tour across the East Coast this week. Some of their stops coincide with the locations of the Primordial Covenant tour. Which is why you need a bodyguard. The protests against the band close to anti-designation group territories could easily turn volatile with the rising publicity of Pierson’s campaign.”

I nod slowly. Still trying to digest this revelation and what it means for me over the next several weeks.

Raising his voice, Donovan adds, “Bea will also be assigned a bodyguard for the duration of the tour.”

I can hear my best friend's protests and her parents' demands for compliance, but they barely filter through the growing lamentation in my soul. I’m so tired of having my dreams within reach only for Fate to place another obstacle to make them unreachable.

All I want is to be free to live my life as I see fit. Without worrying about my birth family finding me, or men like Doctor Harrison taking my choices from me.

A knock at the door of our crowded apartment distracts me. Donovan gets to his feet to greet the two men who walk in. The first is a tall, broad-shouldered, athletic-looking man. He has chocolate brown hair, slightly curly and cut short. He smiles broadly as he talks to Forrest.

The second is slightly shorter with dark blonde hair and neatly trimmed facial hair. Thick biceps, a broad chest, and a square jaw clenched tight. He clearly isn’t someone you want to piss off.

“This is bullshit,” Bea grumbles quietly as she throws herself down on the couch beside me. Her arms are crossed making it clear she is displeased and closing herself off to conversation with the two guys I now assume are our bodyguards.

They stop to greet the Powells, speaking with Phoenix and Shelby for a minute before making their way to where we’re sitting. I keep my expression blank as they approach. Watching as their eyes scan me briefly before doing the same to Bea. Both men’s eyes linger on her and I breathe out a silent sigh of relief.

The last thing I want is to be trapped on a tour bus for two months with men who interest me or are interested in me. Relationships are too big of a risk for me until my birth family is no longer a threat.

Though I guess as my bodyguard one of them will be at risk regardless of whether they are my mate or not. I shrug the thought away. They know what they are signing up for.

“Omen, I’d like you to meet Lex Ferguson,” Donovan says as he points to the angry blonde who steps forward and offers me his hand. I shake it firmly. “He is your assigned bodyguard for the duration of the tour, and potentially after depending on where things are regarding your parents.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Ferguson.” Lex gives me a curt nod in response, briefly meeting my eyes before turning his attention back to the glaring omega beside me. I would be squirming in my seat if their attention was so riveted on me.

My bestie is going to have a blast in close proximity with these two for eight weeks.

“Bea,” Donovan calls her name. He waits patiently until she looks at him. “Your assigned bodyguard, Ridley Hale.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Bea.” Ridley throws a panty melting smile Bea’s way. Her left eye twitches, the only sign she’s affected by his attention. I stifle my laughter when he looks as unaffected by her dismissal as Donovan is.

Thankfully their showdown doesn’t continue for much longer as the rest of our guests capture their attention. I relax against the soft cushions and release a slow breath.

This wasn’t the outcome I expected today, but I have to admit, knowing Mr. Ferguson will be watching my back during the tour puts me at ease.