16. Samuel

16

SAMUEL

SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD

Just pulled in. Be there soon

H opefully my message will keep Oliver chill. The little shit has zero patience, especially when it comes to Amaya. He's also jealous, and I can't help but puff my chest out a little as I climb her front steps.

Today is my day to pick her up for school, and just like every time, I'm going to make the ten-minute drive the best ten minutes of our day.

I may not have a ridiculously large smile to give Amaya like my brother or the calm effect of Emmett, but she's my girl and I wouldn't give her up for anything. She doesn't know it yet, but I'm hers, forever.

With a little pep in my step, I knock on the peeling white door. I bounce on the balls of my feet while I wait for Amaya to answer. My happiness dims the longer I'm left waiting, replaced with concern. Protectiveness rises with each passing moment until my fist curls and bangs on the door again.

My throat strains on a noise I'm not equipped to make yet when crashing and glass shattering sounds through the door. The cursing voice of Amaya's mom comes next, but before I can bust the damn door down, it's thrown open.

Stephanie fills the doorway reeking of alcohol and, to my horror, piss. Stifling my gag, I meet her glare with one of my own.

"Where is she?" I demand, my voice coming out thunderous. The throaty rumble ripping from my chest startles me. That's a first. It has the same effect on Amaya's piece of shit mom too, because she jolts and seems to snap out of her drunken haze.

Annoyed by her own reaction, she narrows her gaze on me. "The fuck do you want, kid?"

"Where's Amaya?"

I'm getting impatient and fidgety, almost like something is rippling beneath my skin. Kind of like a beast waking up from a slumber and stretching its arms in the tight confines of my simple seventeen-year-old body.

The bitch smirks, making my stomach drop. "Gone."

"What do you mean gone?" I snap, not missing a beat.

Stephanie sighs. "Honestly, we're all better off without her."

Her words muddle for a moment when I catch the scent of something floral drifting through the house and out the door.

"My ungrateful child is an annoying shit. Left in the middle of the night to go live with her rich daddy."

The longer the door stays open, the stronger the scent of a fresh spring day swirls toward me and twines with my soul. Lavender grips my heart, and settles beneath my breastbone, giving a subtle yank on the beast rattling its cage.

Wait.

Before I can control myself, my arm snaps out and my fist closes around the beta woman’s throat. All I see is a threat between me and that scent. It's hard to grasp the information I see spilling from her lips while it feels like my brain is ripping in two.

My voice is as hard as stone once her words register in my expanding mind. " Gone? !"

Sick satisfaction curls my lip as Stephanie gurgles and gasps, unable to reply. My usual simmering anger issues turn into burning rage, but for Amaya I curb the urge to snap her mother's neck.

"Sh-she left us." Her words are barely more than a wheeze, so I let up the tiniest bit. "Amaya. Left. You ," she gasps out with a furious glare.

The scent reminding me of spring days running around town and through fields turns bitter, taking me right along with it. I don't realize I've released the beta until her nasty hacking choke pulls me from the decaying image of happiness.

"Amaya left in the middle of the night, you little prick. Wanted her daddy's money." Stephanie spreads her arms wide. "This, we, you, weren't enough for that bitch."

This pivotal moment comes in waves. My alpha emerges in a fit of denial and shoves the bitch aside.

"AMAYA!" I roar, stomping through the living room, upending the kitchen table, the couch, anything my girl could fit under or behind. Then goes her bed, her dresser, and even her mother's room isn't saved from the following wave of desperation.

Hurt is next, and it's in this sorrow of losing who my alpha is insisting is our mate that I tear. Deep in grief, my alpha spares her nana's room that's been untouched since she died. Just a look confirms my ultimate fear.

Gone . Just like Stephanie said.

And with her, Amaya took anything that made me good with her. My mate stole the light that balanced my darkness. Alone, and heartbroken in Amaya's bedroom, I allow my alpha to surge forth completely, shouldering the soul-deep pain of rejection. Surrounded by what was just a calming aroma, I convince myself all I smell is rot.

I don't tell myself it's my decaying soul I smell. I force the stench to associate with the scent of my mate.

Left me.

Not enough for her.

Dead to me.