ROSALIA
Curledup in my newly decorated nest, I inhale the smell of Verona’s shirt she’s been sleeping in for the last several days. Ugh, I need the world to stop for just three seconds. I wouldn’t say it’s any one thing, but hundreds of thousands of little ones.
Vero and the Domino brothers worked together to give me a do-over twenty-first birthday. My favorite pastry for breakfast, a new nest, and the best damn pastrami sandwich in the city for dinner. My appetite is still patchy at best as I settle into a new place, but it was all delicious.
My anxiety and need to have my own space that smells the way I need it to war with my curiosity to explore the new house. Scents are heightened today especially, and I have a feeling that no matter what the blood tests come back with, Nico’s gut feeling that my father was drugging me with scent, alpha, and heat suppressants are correct.
I met with the doctor a couple of days ago when he came to check on Vero’s stitches and it was really difficult not to reactbadly to him. I’ve never seen a man get on his knees and beg for forgiveness before, but he did that day.
Dr. Walsh said he should have walked away from my father years ago, but he was afraid the next physician wouldn’t take his position seriously. Now that I’m out of Papa’s house, he offered his services to me. It was humbling to hear the emotion in his voice, and I accepted his apology.
Now that I have space away from that day, I’m able to acknowledge that I’m furious with my father as the ramifications of his actions fully hit. This means had I not already known Verona was my scent match, I might never have discovered it. Papa tried to manipulate every part of my life.
Angry tears slide down my face as I allow myself to break for just two minutes. I’ll stuff all my emotions back into the boxes inside of me so I function after this. No one needs a depressed omega dragging everyone down, especially when we have important shit to handle.
I’ve been trying to pull myself from the black hole of my life. Knowing my life is tied to Verona’s is helping me cling harder to the promise I made her to fight to live. I’m also trying not to make waves with the Domino brothers, answer their questions, and attempt to be helpful.
Pablo is still hiding in his room, and I think we need to have a conversation soon.
Verona told me she needs to apologize to him for her initial reaction to his scent, but to be fair, both of us had frayed nerves that caused us to react like frightened animals pushed to the brink of our existence.
Taking another deep, cleansing breath, I shudder as I see my Aunt Genevra’s broken body in the dumpster in my mind. Nico showed the photo to me, questioning me about who she was and if her death was something I would mourn. I told him if she wason fire, I wouldn’t use someone else’s dick to piss on her with, and left it at that.
The truth is, my father will be coming for me, which is why I need to pull myself together to get ready for this meeting today.
Five influential criminal families have agreed to hear our case to see if they want to help us wipe my family off the face of this earth. This isn’t a war; it’s an extermination, and I can’t hide from that fact.
Everyone will be killed but children, and I mentioned that the surviving children should be sent to Italy to grow up with any remaining family members there. I am against killing minors, I swear I am, however I know that eventually, they all grow up.
I need to know that I’m not going to wake up facing them at the wrong end of a weapon one day.
Hiding Vero’s shirt under the sheets of the makeshift bed in my nest, I sigh at this very omega-like action. I’m surrounded by alphas, and maybe that’s the problem. It’s as if my sinuses are slowly clearing up, and a part of me is worried about what will happen when the medication that was hidden in my smoothies completely wears off.
Dr. Walsh says he didn’t prescribe any scent, alpha, or heat blockers to Papa. They must be some kind of street drug, which makes them even more dangerous.
My skin already feels too tight, my hair hurts, and I feel as if everything is rubbing me the wrong way. I don’t have time for a heat, and I doubt it’ll be safe either. This many alphas being flooded with omega heat pheromones?
God, that sounds like a disaster. It makes me shudder, because I don’t think I’m anywhere near healthy enough in mind or body to be fucked for several days straight. I know that Nico is serious about putting a baby inside of me, but the idea of that many men around me gives me flashbacks from the rape.
Even Vero has stuck to cuddling and kissing at night once she’s alone with me, though she is very persistent in reminding me that I am not broken. My body slicks when I’m aroused, I can have thoughts of being touched by her that don't dissolve into tears and shame.
I am not fucking broken!Sucking in a breath, I spend one more minute mourning my innocence, despite the people I’ve previously killed. A part of me still desperately hoped my father loved me enough to protect me, instead of throwing me away when I disappointed him enough.
While my body has healed most of the damage that was inflicted upon me, the memories remain. I’ve heard that an omega’s body will stave off a heat until their body can handle it, but I’m not overly optimistic about this. Dr. Walsh told me the internal stitches have dissolved, and I’m technically physically able to withstand a heat.
I simply don’t think I’m mentally capable of it. Unfortunately, heats couldn’t care less about mental health, so I’m shit out of luck, I suppose.
Crawling out of my nest, I stand and pad to the connected bathroom as I wipe away my tears, and have an everything shower. I scrub my scalp, exfoliate, and rinse off, feeling a little more centered by the end. Drying off, I find a dress I bought online for this meeting, and continue to get ready.
After being pranced around as Papa’s doll, I throw out every single demand he’s ever given me, and dress for myself. Smoothing my hands over the black wrap draped mini dress, I make sure the deep vee is still tasteful. There’s a small slit up the side, and I have a suit jacket to wear over it, despite the heat currently in Savannah.
My hair is slicked back into a ponytail, my makeup is smoky with a red lip, and I’m wearing red bottomed shoes. It’s very ‘mafia princess’, but I don’t think it’s over the top. It’sunfortunate that I’m unable to wear my weapons, and I feel a little naked due to it.
Nico still believes I’m a suicide risk, but hasn’t actually spoken to me. I hate when people assume things about me, and one day at the dinner table, I’m going to stab him in frustration.
Still, this is supposed to be a friendly conversation, and it seems less likely to end in gunfire than the meetings my father leads. I made sure to hide any fading bruises that can be seen, but packed a makeup wipe in my purse in case they require proof.
Though, if necessary, Nico does have video evidence of my mistreatment. My eyes shutter under the knowledge that people have seen some of the worst moments I’ve ever experienced, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.