Who Wants a Broken Mate? (The Fae Omegas, #4) [SAMPLE]

Chapter 3

Nina

"Welcome! This is our daughter, Emery. And this is our home."

As soon as I was introduced to them, I knew the Browns didn't want me living in their home.

As they led us into their living room which was carefully designed with expensive leather sofas and draperies to make a statement to their guests, I could see that they were only trying hard to pretend to be genial in the presence of the Supernatural Council representative that had accompanied us but their stiff smiles and the way they sat as far away from me as possible told me everything I needed to know.

Just like my step-father, they must have seen that photo of a handcuffed me getting pulled out of Lord Westhouse's trafficking den. Most people felt I was part of the organization because I was wearing the Westhouse technical uniform and I was among those handcuffed.

"Mr. and Mrs. Brown, I have little time to spend here. Can we see their room or rooms?" Zoey, our social worker, asked with pursed lips.

"Of course, of course." Mr. Brown said.

And then they ushered us to a room on the first floor whose door was behind the staircase leading to the second floor of their two-story house. The room was not very spacious, but it was just right for my brother and me. The bunk bed made sure there was space for a desk and chair in the room where my brother could do his middle-grade assignments and art school assignments. Opposite our room was the door to the bathroom that my brother and I could share, which Zoey also checked.

"Please excuse us for a moment. I'd like to talk to Nina and her brother." Zoey said politely after she had looked around.

"Yes, yes." Mrs. Brown smiled and led her husband out.

"Do you like it?" Zoey asked.

I nodded with a smile and received one from Zoey as well.

Zoey had been in charge of my brother and me since I got acquitted, and I had to admit that she was an amazing social worker.

She was kind, funny, and sincere. I was sure that it was thanks to her that my brother and I, two kids with no backgrounds and one with negative points, were getting such excellent treatment as our own room.

"Yes, thank you very much," I said while watching my brother sit on the lower bunk with the box of clothes and stuff that Zoey had gotten funds from the Supernatural Council to buy for us.

She moved closer to me, lowering her voice. "Listen, if you're not comfortable or they mistreat you in this pack, just send me a message with the phone I gave you."

I nodded with a smile. If things got out of hand or my brother was mistreated, I would report to her. As for me, I could shoulder all the dislike, hate, and discrimination that I knew I was going to receive not just because of that picture of me sitting on the internet but also because of my status as a pack omega.

I only had one purpose: to watch over my brother and help him achieve his dreams, and then I could find something to do with my life.

I had no intention of mating anyone or finding a sense of belonging in this pack or any pack. Because of the things I had seen and experienced in my old pack, I didn't believe in Werewolf packs because I'd found that most packs had enormous problems. Mostly because there was one person in charge of everything.

In many packs, the pack council was fully under the control of the Alpha so they couldn't even serve their purpose as buffers to the Alpha's power over the life and death of pack members. This meant that the top members of each pack, from the Alpha to the Beta to the pack enforcers to the pack council members, were usually very corrupt.

As such, I didn't really like pack life. But I had no way to stay behind in the Supernatural Council not only because of my poor qualifications as a warrior but also because, along with those poor qualifications, I also had a little brother that I needed to care for.

So I could only wait in the pack until my brother was 18 before trying to become a warrior or a mere soldier in any of the eleven organizations I could get into, or even a rogue werewolf.

"If you have any problems, make sure you call me, okay?"

I nodded and waved at the departing Zoey, who was returning to the Supernatural Council. I was sure that even though she was concerned about me now, I would become a blur in her memory in the next few days when she got her next 'case'.

But I was still grateful for her help, even though I knew I wouldn't call her unless things got really bad. Choosing to rely completely on her for help like she had suggested was impossible. After all, I had been betrayed and backstabbed so many times that the only person I truly trusted was my brother.

The last time I trusted someone, I'd gotten into a lot of trouble. The person I trusted, Aunt Wayne, who gave my brother and me leftovers for doing the dishes and working as a temporary waitress in her restaurant, practically sold us to Lord Westhouse's trafficking organization.

As if to prove the hypocritical nature of people, as soon as Zoey left, the stiff smiles on the Browns' faces disappeared and they started laying down the ground rules.

"Lilah, is that your name?"

"It's Nina." At least, Mr. Brown was trying to keep the entire thing civil even though Mrs. Brown was rolling her eyes with disdain written all over her face.

"Yes, Nina. There are rules if you're going to live here."

I nodded. "Can my brother go back to our room? I'll tell him everything he needs to know when I get back."

Mr. Brown nodded.

I only needed to pat my brother on the head, and he was off.

He didn't need to be here to hear whatever Mrs. Brown was going to say. With the disdain in her eyes, I knew she had a lot of rude words to share and I would rather they didn't get into his ears.

"This is it. The first rule is that we don't want you, a loose girl who thrives by selling her body in a trafficker's den, anywhere near our daughter. You must not bring your inappropriate behavior into our home. If you want to deal with your . . . customers, please get a room elsewhere. We will not tolerate any bad influence on our daughter."

I nodded indifferently. Trying to convince complete strangers that not all women in Lord Westhouse's trafficking den were prostitutes, or that it was immoral to mistreat women who had done what they needed to do to survive in trafficking houses, was unnecessary. I couldn't even be bothered to tell them I'd pretended to be a man in Lord Westhouse's trafficking den and was, thus, protected from sexual harassment of any sort. As far as I was concerned, they could think whatever they wanted.

"Also, we would prefer if you and your brother stay in your rooms all the time. You can eat and live there, so please remember to stay away from our living room or dining room. The second floor is also off-limits. If we find either of you there, we'll immediately report attempted theft to our Alpha and the Supernatural Council. And I don't want to see a loose girl like you anywhere near my kitchen. As agreed with the Supernatural Council, we will provide your breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But I'll leave your meals on that table beside your door." Mrs. Brown said curtly.

I nodded. That was fair. They were not as bad as I had expected.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Yes, for now. But we will add new rules as we see fit." Mrs. Brown said.

Unlike her husband, who was trying to be polite, she kept using offensive language and expressions as if she was trying to provoke me to anger. But that was useless because I couldn't care less what anyone said about me.

I nodded and then walked away, straight to my room, ignoring Mrs. Brown, her husband, and their daughter, who was peeping from the top of the stairs.

When I got to our room, I narrated the entire conversation to my brother without the insults and rude comments.

Although I was trying to protect him, I wasn't planning to protect him from the reality of the world. It would be useless even if I did that, anyway. We were both survivors of the Woodburn pack's dog-eat-dog environment. We'd both lived in a trafficker's den for a year and a half and we'd seen terrible things even though I had worked very hard to protect us from being on the receiving end of those terrible things.