52. Paul

52

PAUL

I 'm trying really hard not to think about what's going on beyond the door in front of me. When Kate texted me two days ago to let me know not to visit my daughter, I was upset. Until I found out her heat cycle had started.

Then I was upset for a whole new reason.

I don't ever want to think about Amaya having a heat, but it's natural—cue the fucking shudder—and it's happening, so I have to get with the program. Okay, so those aren't my words. They're Kate's, but the kid is right.

Now, there's no way I'm going inside, or even risk ringing the doorbell, but I plan on dropping off some snacks during the next few days. I want nothing to do with what's going on in there, but I can still take care of my daughter.

I need her to know she's not alone, and I'll always be here in the aftermath of, you know .

Thankfully, I don't hear anything as I rush up her front steps, drop the bag, and bolt away. I love my daughter, I really do, but there's no way I'm going to linger, so I shoot Vincent a text letting him know I delivered something.

Chances are he won’t read the message—cue the bile—but that's why I chose my favorite nonperishables. Pretzel nuggets filled with peanut butter, chocolate-covered almonds, jolly ranchers, and a bottle of bourbon.

I don't know Amaya, but I know what I like and if she's anything like me, she will enjoy the snacks. The bourbon is mainly for Vincent, but I wouldn't mind having a drink with my daughter someday, if that's her thing.

Still holding my breath, I dive back into my car just in time for my phone to sound an alert. Heaving a breath and giving the house a wary glance, I open the 'breaking news' notification.

Immediately, a video begins to play, blasting through the speakers of my car and making me curse.

"You think we are the worst of them?!" One of the convicted scientists from the Premium Designation Academy shouts at the shaky camera. "They will come for them all!"

The rabid man lunges for the camera, his teeth bared at all the microphones shoved in his face. Hands grab at him, the authorities trying to control him, but it's no use. His words are out there for all to worry over.

"You won't know what’s coming 'til all your whores are gone!"

The threat is clear. He's talking about the omegas we saved, and maybe anyone the traffickers can get their hands on.

They're out for vengeance, for blood, and the most treasured of us all are going to pay the price.

With one final frantic look at Amaya's house, I throw the car in reverse. Controlling the trembling rage in my body and leashing the alpha urge to protect his young is impossible.

Nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, will touch a hair on my daughter’s head, EVER again.