15. Amaya

15

AMAYA

I 'm only kind of freaking out as I follow Paul through the fancy hallways, which I'm pretty damn proud of. I was worried being out in public for the first time would be harder than this. Like maybe everyone would stare at me as if I have it written on my forehead that I'm an academy victim.

Oh, excuse me, survivor . The amount of times rehab tried to change the narrative for us fucked up omegas might actually be sticking if I'm scolding myself in my head.

I thought coming out today would make me feel like a naked freak in a classroom. We've all had that nightmare, I'm sure.

The more offices we pass, the more baffled I become. Each space is separated by glass walls, leaving no privacy. They are literally like fish in a tank, completely on display for anyone curious enough to look. I find it hard to believe any omegas work here, but maybe the few with dark shades drawn were for them. Odd.

Lost in my thoughts, I'm surprised when I almost walk into Paul's wide back. Maybe I just have to hyper analyze random things around me to keep from freaking out. Filing that information away, I swipe my sweaty palms on my dress, hoping I don't leave wet marks behind.

Ugh, I'm such a sorry excuse for a lawyer’s daughter. Shouldn't I be super smart and ultra confident? I bet maybe then Paul would want to keep me around. I don't fit into his posh lifestyle, which is made ridiculously obvious once again when I start trembling.

Confused by the sickly shake of my hands and knees, I turn my attention inward as Paul knocks on the glass door. My stomach twists, my nerves flare with warning. I swear I can feel my heart trying to punch a hole through my vibrating ribcage.

My omega...

Her fear, horror, excitement, and complete shock fight the barrier between my rational side and my instinctual intelligence.

Shh, breathe. I'm fine. We're fine.

Feeling nauseatingly out of control, I try to soothe my body and the rapid feelings bursting through my defenses.

All efforts to calm my omega completely shatter against the vicious blow of the most intoxicating scent of margarita. Breezy lime assaults my frayed nerves. There's no stopping the whine that rips through the ball of emotion currently lodging itself in my throat.

It can't be. It's not real. He's not here, I chant over and over, slamming my eyelids shut. My omega? She hesitantly encourages me . ‘He will protect us. Save us. Love us. We won't be alone anymore!’

I can't control my eyes from snapping up and locking onto the thunderous gaze of Samuel Jenkins.

His dirty blond hair is still a mess of waves on top of his head, and his face is clean shaven like it always has been. Where I remember seeing a boy in his cheeks, I now see a man in his chiseled jaw and lips pressed into a thin line. He's taller too, hovering at least a foot above me.

The need to bury my face in his toned chest makes my insides quake, but something's wrong. Horribly wrong. ‘ Alpha doesn't want me?’

If my blood weren't roaring in my ears, I bet the sound of my heart shattering and my omega's hope collapsing would deafen me. I might not hear my soul dying even more than it already has, but I can feel it one rusty, dull stab at a time.

"Amaya!"

Paul's bark makes me jump and yanks a pathetic screech from me. But it's his hand reaching for me that sends me stumbling back a couple of steps, ultimately giving me the space I needed to breathe something other than my mate.

My aversion to touch also breaks my eye contact with the green eyes I've dreamed of since the day I was taken. Eye contact that was filled with years of pain and something much darker. What I saw in Sam's eyes was nothing short of rage and accusations.

"Are you alright?"

I hate myself for jumping again at the sound of Paul's voice. I really should have talked to him about my concerns on the car ride here. Maybe if he proved me wrong, and he does in fact want a relationship with me, then I wouldn't feel so alone in the face of one of my mates who clearly hates me.

Peeking at the alpha we're clearly here to have a meeting with, my eyes burn when I see nothing but indifference in his eyes. Samuel has completely closed himself off from me, leaving me with his lingering scent of sour lime that makes my lips twist and wobble.

"I'm fine," I choke out, lowering my gaze with no intention of looking up.

I know Paul wants to push for more information, but I step forward and give him a pleading gaze. He stiffens, but my eyes drop too fast to figure out what his expression might give away.

"Mr. Jenkins," Paul greets, voice filled with violence. "Let's get this over with."

I don't hear much after that hoping to save myself and my omega from the ongoing rejection of our mate's flat voice and standoffish posture. It's all a low drone beyond the pounding of my broken heart anyway.

The pen nudged into my freezing fingers is hardly felt; the numbness having seeped to my extremities. I sign the dotted lines, just following Paul's pointed finger.

It doesn't matter anyway. None of it does.

All I have now is the hope sparking in my heart that maybe, just maybe, Paul feels some kind of protective instincts toward me. Maybe his aggressive posture and growly tone are on my behalf .

Kate was right. There are always multiple sides of a story .

I won't ever know Samuel's side if his obvious rejection and hatred is anything to go by. But maybe it's time I solve Paul's.

I'm at the door now, my feet having taken me here with Paul's direction. At my back, he gathers the paperwork, and Samuel leans back in his chair. Tears haven't stopped flowing since his glass door opened, but they continue with a vengeance at my mate’s next dismissal.

"The door, Ms. Rose."

I choke and die inside all at once.

"Consider any further business from us terminated," Paul, my dad, growls at Samuel before storming toward me and snatching my hand.

Maybe I'm not as alone as I thought.