Good Girl by Sam Hall
Chapter 35
Orion was right—the guys did look stunning in formal wear. Pants off the rack, which managed to look tailored on both of them, skimmed over powerful thighs and perfectly formed arses, held up with leather belts, topped by crisp shirts in shades of grey that managed to make Rhys’ eyes glow and warm Brendan’s colouring further. They caught me checking them out as we got out of the car, trading smug looks before they each took an arm and escorted me into the restaurant.
It was beautiful inside, someone having been paid a lot by the owners to place a mural of elegant women on the walls, each wearing full sleeve tattoos. The lighting was low, the carpet a warm grey that swallowed our steps as we walked in. A woman in a high-necked black blouse saw us approach and smiled.
“Mr Ratcliffe’s party? He instructed me to keep an eye out for you. You’re in one of the private dining rooms at the back. Mr Ratcliffe has already ordered drinks for you, but if you wish for something else, please let me know.”
We walked down the length of the dining room, betas and omegas alike casting their eyes over my alphas as we went. My grip on the boys tightened, making them chuckle.
“Well, Rhys, you look a helluva lot better than when I carried you upstairs the other day.”
Orion wasn’t in the room alone, which was perhaps why he’d gone for private. She sat at his end of the table, young, like really young, eyes downcast. He smiled while the maître d’ seated us, asking if we wanted anything else to drink before waving her away. I ignored the G&T waiting for me and poured a glass of water, offering the same to the guys. Rhys shook his head, twisted the top of his Corona off, and then shoved the lime in before taking a swig.
When the door clicked shut and we were left alone, Orion said, “I’d like to introduce you to—”
“What the fuck, Orion?” Rhys snapped.
There was a whole lot in that. Why the subterfuge, and why the lies? Why the restaurant, why not be straight with us, what was his dad’s deal, and most of all, what the hell was the girl doing here, sitting so close to him? I flared my nose, confirming what we all knew—she was an omega.
“This is Ariadne, my sister.”
So she was a stranger to me, but to the guys? I frowned, taking in each man’s expression. They hadn’t changed, the same wary, barely simmering anger sitting there.
“You don’t have a sister, O.” Brendan bit off the words as he sat back, pulling my hand into his lap to stroke the back of it conspicuously. “There’s just you.”
“My mother has one child.” Orion’s arm went to the back of the girl’s chair. “My father has more. Not recognised, not allowed all the privileges of the name, but…”
He looked up, his gaze moving from one mate to the next before meeting my eyes. So we’d see it, I was willing to bet. The same unusual colouring, green eyes, dark hair, skin on her that looked like porcelain, it was easy to see the resemblance, but a part of me that had become way too suspicious wondered if that was deliberate.
“I took the liberty of ordering a tasting menu. There’ll be samples of almost everything for us to enjoy.”
As if summoned, in came several waiters and a trolley full of food.
There ain’tno silence like the interrupted uncomfortable conversation silence. We were all perfectly quiet, sitting stiffly in our seats, as the many dishes were put before us. It smelled and looked amazing, which felt weird. The staff seemed to sense this, shooting us polite smiles before scurrying out the door.
“It looks great, Orion,” I said, tilting my head at the table, “but I’d rather a whole lot of answers and a kebab from a food van on the way home, if it’s all the same.”
“That’s my girl,” Bren said in a low tone.
“What the fuck is going on? I’ve been led around by the nose from one story to the next, and apparently, yours is next, so spill,” I snapped.
“Not my story,” he replied, staring back at me, that very specific kind of white upper-class pain on his face. It wasn’t real obvious, just there in the slight tightness around his mouth, his eyes. “Ari’s.”
He looked down at her with a tenderness I fucking hated. I’d never gotten into the whole omega bitch fight thing that seemed to compel some to scratch the eyes out of every other omega around them, but I’d have a go at hers. My fingers flexed, the little lost girl pure alpha bait, but the rational part of my brain put the brakes on that. Benson was a fucking monster, and anyone who had anything to do with him was likely to get savaged. If he was the one who’d put those shadows in her eyes, I’d hate myself for suspecting her.
“Um…so I’m Orion’s half-sister. I didn’t even know who he was until a few years ago. I grew up in a little cottage out on the outskirts of town. It was quiet, semi-rural, nothing flash, but… I knew my mum was an omega. Everyone did. She told people her mate had died and she was raising their daughter on her own. That was the truth of it, as far as I knew. I went to the local school, but people didn’t really warm to me. I guess they expected I’d reveal as an omega and either bring the gangs to our suburb, looking to claim me, or I’d get snapped up by the academies. The last bit was what happened. A man, tall, with dark hair and green eyes, just like me, he came by the house one day after school, and Mum was there waiting for me. He explained he was an exclusive academy representative, and he was offering me a place there. I backed away. Something wasn’t right. Mum, she looked nervous, and there were bruises…”
Ari’s brows knitted, her eyes staring at the table in a way that made sense to me. I knew what that was—she was reexperiencing something, something that hurt. Orion’s arm went around her, tightening, creating a smaller, more secure space for her, but she shook slightly, her fingers digging into the table’s edge.
“I said I wasn’t revealed yet, that I might turn out to be an alpha like my dad.” She snorted then, a sound that was completely without joy. “He just laughed. He pulled out a leather case, and in it was a syringe. That broke Mum. She started to scream, cry, and then…”
When she looked up, her eyes had filled with tears, and suddenly, I didn’t want answers anymore. I was up and out of my seat, walking around to her and crouching down by her side.
“It’s OK, Ari. Listen to me. You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. You don’t know what’s coming for you.” Her head shook back and forth, over and over. She grabbed my fingers, clenching them hard. “You have to listen.”
“I’m listening, I promise.”
“I’m only fifteen. I wasn’t supposed to reveal yet, not for another few years.”
I took a long breath in, smelling the scent of scared omega, but there was something…different to it. Our scents sour when we get angry or afraid, but hers was strangely artificial, like the difference between real flowers and the weird chemical alternates they used in air freshener or something. I couldn’t imagine anyone being attracted to it. It blasted the nose, clogged my throat, and—
“He shot me up full of some drug that brought my reveal forward. I soaked my school uniform with this thick, bloody slick that splattered everywhere. He belted me then, for getting it on his shoes.”
Tears were running down her cheeks and I really didn’t think we should be putting her through this, but the words kept coming, like she’d held them in and couldn’t keep them back anymore.
“And then he took me, put me in an academy, just like he said.” She looked up at me, her eyes like lasers, boring into mine. “I’m training to become someone’s wife, to be biddable and not embarrass my high-flying husband at social events, and the other girls are nice, mostly. But…”
Oh fuck, I don’t want to hear this, I really don’t want to hear this.
“He can come to the academy at night, something no one else is allowed to do, and sometimes there’s visitors. They come in stinking of cigars and Scotch, of alpha pheromones that clog my nose.”
I grabbed her hands, squeezing them tight, stopping the tide for a second.
“You don’t have to tell us this. If you’re still there, maybe you shouldn’t. Save it for a therapist, someone who can help.”
“They haven’t touched me, yet. They come into my room. The other girls are spitting chips that I have a room on my own, but he did it for a reason—so there’d be no witnesses. The men, they come closer, smell me, tell me I’m a good girl.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
“That when the time comes, the one who’s chosen will be gentle.” Her eyes roll down to meet mine. “I let them look at me, inspect me, leer at me, because…” Her teeth clamped down, the words forced through them. “He told me if I didn’t, he had another injection he’ll use. It’ll trigger my heat, whenever he wants, and he’ll take me to a place for bad girls. He’ll throw me to the wolves who sniff around my door, not as a wife, but a thing to be used. If Orion doesn’t do what he tells him, same outcome. It’s why he was receptive when Benson brought you to meet Orion, why he played along, until he didn’t.” A single tear rolled down her face, and a hand went out, touching my cheek like I was the one who needed soothing. “He loves you and is sorry for what he has to do.”
“Ari…”
Orion stiffened as Ari told her story. He’d reached out and trailed his finger through a small saucer of soy sauce as she spoke, drawing circles on the tabletop with it. But at the end, he nodded, putting the fingertip into his mouth to suck clean, before wrapping his arm around his sister.
For a moment, he just held her, his chin resting on her head as he soothed her with long strokes down her back.
“Marcus has known for a while. His plan is in play, and this dinner is a meeting, to see where you stand. I hurt you, every single one of you. I didn’t want to.” His eyes dropped at that. “For a while there, I thought I could have it all. I experienced hope for the first fucking time when Rhys took you as his mate, Cyn. That somewhere in all this fucking ugliness, there was something beautiful for me.”
In 1967, the last person to be executed for his crimes was hung in my country. I’d always wondered what he must have looked like, walking up to the noose, facing down his executioners, not knowing that he would be the last. When I looked at Orion, I had an inkling then of the sentenced man’s expression as he faced down the hangman.
“I’ve got tickets here for the three of you. You should run, get as far away from this bullshit as you fucking can, because the blowback is gonna be fierce.” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t want people I love anywhere near it.” He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a large yellow envelope. “There’s fake passports, licenses, accommodation, itineraries, everything to take you to one of five different countries. Use whichever one takes your fancy.”
“You’re saying goodbye,” Brendan said, leaning forward, scanning his mate’s face. “This is the end?”
“What do you and that fucking bastard of a mate of ours have planned?” Rhys ground out.
“I’m going to execute my father the night of the Omega Ball.”