That negative energy felt like billions of blunt needles stabbing at her flesh. It seeped into her. Bloated her. Caused her chest to ache and her head to pound. Threatened to propel her into such a state of extreme fatigue that there was no way to stand on her own steam. And yet, she stayed. Because it just felt plain shitty to leave.
Rather than hold two separate wakes, the families of the deceased had agreed to hold one in Benny’s parents’ apartment for both him and Crawford. Mourners were scattered around, clutching tissues and talking in low whispers. Some also held paper plates that were laden with buffet food. Bree hadn’t been able to eat a thing—her gut felt knotted.
Most of the mourners were her pride mates. Others were relatives of the deceased that belonged to other prides.
Bree’s gaze drifted to the framed pictures of Benny and Crawford that had been propped on the table among the beautiful flower arrangements. Hot tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“All the other omegas left, and no one blames them for that,” said Alex. “You’re only lingering because you’re punishing yourself.”
Her frown deepened. “Am not.”
He lifted a brow. “You really going to look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not standing here feeling responsible for their deaths?”
She sighed, unwilling to lie. “I just wish … We have to get justice for them, Alex.”
“We will, I promise you. Whoever is responsible is living on borrowed time.” He gave her nape a little squeeze. “Now let’s go. You need to earth, eat, and rest—don’t argue. You’ve spoken to Renee, you’ve spoken with Benny’s and Crawford’s family, you’ve paid your respects. It’s time to go.” Still holding her arm, he pulled her toward the front door.
“God, you’re bossy.”
“This isn’t new to you, baby girl.” Stepping out of the apartment, Alex turned to her. “Stay here while I run upstairs and grab your jacket from my apartment. It’s chilly outside.”
“I’ll be fine without one, it won’t take me long to earth.”
“You also need pain pills yesterday. Wait here.” He took the stairs two at a time as he headed up to the level he lived on.
She leaned back against the wall, feeling weak and close to a crash.
The door of an apartment further down the hall opened. A familiar elderly woman stepped out. “Well, if it isn’t Bree Dwyer,” said Rose with a smile, crossing to her. “Last time I saw you, you were … what, thirteen?”
“Something like that,” replied Bree. She’d always liked Rose. As well as being Benny’s great-aunt, she’d also been the Olympus Pride’s primary omega when Bree was a kid. But after retiring from the position to make way for the primary who Dani later usurped, Rose had transferred to the pride that her son mated into.
“You were a strong omega back then. But not this strong.” Rose joined Bree in leaning back against the wall. “I had to go lie down for a while—having people’s grief beat at you is hard to take.”
Bree nodded. “I’m sorry about Benny.”
She let out a long breath. “Me too, sweetheart. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. I’m just glad those polar bears paid dearly for what they did.” She swallowed and then forced a small, strained smile. “So, how have you been?”
“I’ve been good. You?”
“Oh, fine, fine. I heard all about the hyena business and the problems you’ve been having with the Cages. I also heard you’re having some problems with Dani.”
Bree only shrugged. She glanced up the stairwell, but there was no sign of Alex.
“I never wanted to be primary, you know,” Rose said with a sigh.
Bree’s gaze flew back to Rose. “But you were so good at it.”
“That didn’t mean I wanted it. I fought the ascension hard. My mother pulled me aside and gave me a stern talking to. She said I didn’t realize how lucky I was; said lots of people would love to not only have such a gift but such a purpose. She told me that, like it or not, I’d been given this gift and the pride needed me to get my act together. It now needs you to do the same. You’re going to tell me that it already has a perfectly good primary.”
“Well, it does.”
“True. I’ve met few omegas as strong as Dani. You’re stronger.”
“It was different for you. Your old primary was ready to step down.”
“Quite ready,” Rose agreed. “The position can take a lot out of a person, which is why most retired primaries stick to helping their loved ones as opposed to serving their entire pride. You can understand why Dani isn’t yet ready to step down.”
“I totally can. Would it really be so bad if she remained primary?”
“Your cat won’t tolerate taking orders from her. You know that, just like you know you may have to challenge her at some point.”
“I don’t want to fight her. I mean, I’d happily smack the shit out of her for being a bitch lately. But a duel? I’d rather avoid that. Especially because I think she’d rather die than submit and lose her position. I don’t want to kill her.”
Rose sighed. “Dani has come to let the role define her and she doesn’t feel that she’s anything without it—that happens to primaries sometimes. You should ask yourself something: do you truly not want the position, or are you worried that others are right; that you’ll fall like your mother did?”
Bree looked away. “She was a mess at the end.”
“It wasn’t her gifts that led to her death. They overwhelmed her, yes, but people can be overwhelmed by lots of things—not all end their lives. I find that it depends on the individual, not the circumstance, or those circumstances would all end in the same way.”
“You’re saying she was weak?”
“Not weak. Fragile. Charity was too compassionate. She could never switch off. Could never say no to people or set boundaries. She became overworked.”
Bree remembered that about her mother. Remembered her father nagging her about it, claiming she was pushing herself too hard.
“But it wasn’t until a pride mate she was counseling killed himself that there were any fractures in her shields,” Rose went on. “She took on all the blame; insisted she should have done more to help him. Nobody else blamed her, but she was sure it was her fault and that she didn’t deserve her gifts. In short, she gave up on herself.”
Bree didn’t remember that incident well. But she did recall how her mother retreated, crumbled, and lost all faith in her omega abilities. Yes, she’d given up on herself.
“What do you think she’d say about the Dani situation? Truthfully.”
“She’d tell me …” Bree sighed. “She’d tell me I was only thinking of myself, not the pride; that they needed me to pull my head out of my ass.”
“So do it. I see in you an emotional strength she didn’t have; a strength that Dani doesn’t have. What I don’t see in you is anything of Paxton, if that’s a worry for you—he was hollow; you’re his complete opposite. You’re fighting the ascension for all the wrong reasons, Bree. Stop letting the actions and whispers of others hold you back.”