Page 132 of Traded

“Leave,” Liam says quietly. “Or do I need to make you?”

John doesn’t say anything else. Liam doesn’t move, and neither do I. Not until the sound of the elevator rising fills our silent apartment, shuffling movements announcing their imminent departure.

“Liam.” His mother’s voice sounds shaky. “I… Thank you for dinner.”

“Bye, mom.” His voice cracks. “Bye, Erin.”

I shift, but Liam’s hand curls back around mine as the doors close behind them, ragged words piercing my chest as the adrenaline fades. “That—what they have—it’s not what I want, Rosie. I never have.”

He turns, caging me with his arms. Liam presses his forehead to mine. “I need you to believe me.”

“What are you talking about?” Jonas asks. Both of us ignore him.

“You know what I saw tonight?” I reach up a hand, adjusting the buttons on his shirt. Smoothing it, like a good little omega making sure her alpha stays presentable. He stiffens as I raise myself on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear. “I sawyou. Now or in twenty years. I can’t see much of a difference.”

He sucks in a breath.

“Can you blame me? You say you don’t want that life.” My throat tightens with my invisible collar. “But you’re doing a damn good job of proving otherwise.”

I can’t say any more. The bark his father wields so easily locks up my throat, wielded in the same way by his son.

If I stayed, that’s exactly what would happen. Whether he sees that or not. I would become Erin—silent, broken, and trained. A ghost.

I take a step back, looking between him and Jonas. Searching for something—anything—that might make this, us, this pack, redeemable.

But I don’t see anything, only devastation on Liam’s face and confusion from Jonas. My muscles are starting to tremble from the fear I held off when John Kessler was shouting in my face. “I’m going to check on Lauren.”

Liam lets me go without saying anything. I look back from the hallway as he sinks into my abandoned chair and runs his hand over his face. Jonas leans forward, putting a hand on his shoulder.

She doesn’t respond to my tap on the door. When I push it open, she’s sitting on the edge of her bed with her phone in her hands. “You can come in.”

She sounds how I feel. Drained. I close the door gently and take a seat next to her. We both look at the floor.

“Have they gone?” she asks eventually.

“Yeah.” I sniff. “It was a bit awkward.”

“And Erin?”

The back of my throat burns. “She left with him.”

Lauren leans forward, looking at her palms. “I have a sister like Erin. Back in New York. Her name is Megan.”

“Are you… close?”

She breathes in. “We were once. I get a phone call sometimes, or a message. But her pack doesn't like me much.”

“I see.” I lean against her, and she does the same with a faint sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“I was going to call the NOC.” Lauren lifts the discarded phone in her lap and lets it drop again. “But I’ve called them before. More than once. Nothing ever came of it. Nothing good, anyway.”

I slide my hand into hers, and I don’t say anything. There’s nothing I can say.

Except one thing. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I do like cocktails. And eighties music. It wasn’t you I was angry at. Not really.”

She squeezes my hand. “What are we doing, Rosie?”

“Surviving,” I say eventually. It feels like the right answer. I lean forward. It’s warm in here. “One day at a time, right?”