Silenced Omega Chapter 05

Silenced Omega Chapter 05

It felt as if her lower leg had been snapped in two.

Her mouth opened, but the scream was trapped in her throat.

Preston didn’t stop. He reached out, pinched her jaw, and twisted.

A sickening pop, and her jaw dislocated.

She could only make broken, whimpering sounds as tears and blood mingled at the corner of her mouth.

“Preston,” Camden said, his voice tight.

Preston released her, and Laney crumpled to the floor.

“Much quieter,” he said. “And now she won’t be able to run.”

Laney curled up on the floor, her vision blackening at the edges from the pain.

She looked at Camden, pouring every last bit of her strength into her gaze.

It was a plea.

Camden looked away.

He gave a cold order.

“Put her in the trunk.”

The bodyguards hauled her up roughly.

As they dragged her past Camden, Laney reached out with her good hand and caught the fabric of his trousers.

Camden paused.

The butler asked quietly, “Sir?”

Camden looked down at her.

Those brown eyes had once been filled with nothing but trust and love for him.

Now, only ash-gray despair remained.

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his expression was blank.

“Take her away.”

The fabric slipped through Laney’s fingers.

She was dragged out of the living room and shoved into the trunk of a Cadillac SUV.

As her consciousness began to fade, she heard Preston’s amused voice.

“When Genevieve wakes up, this fake will be completely useless.”

“When that time comes, don’t tell me you can’t go through with it.”

After a brief silence, Camden’s voice came from outside the car.

“Can’t go through with it? Preston, are you insulting me, or are you insulting Genevieve?”

With the last of her clarity, Laney fought to keep her eyes open.

“Genevieve saved my life,” Camden’s voice was sharp, every word a nail driving into her ears.

“That fire at the New York Wolf Council eight years ago. If she hadn’t rushed in to pull me out, I would have died.”

“She has permanent scars on her back. She almost died for me.”

“I can never repay that debt.”

“As for this woman…”

The trunk was pitch-black. Laney couldn’t see his expression, only hear his voice.

“She has a face that looks something like Genevieve’s and thinks she can replace her? She isn’t worthy.”

Preston sneered.

“Good. Otherwise, I’d have to take out all the suffering Genevieve has endured these past few years on someone.”

“If you can’t do it, I don’t mind doing it for you.”

“Do as you like,” Camden said. “As long as Genevieve wakes up, nothing else matters.”

The car started moving.

In the darkness, Laney’s gland began to burn.

Through the pain, old memories flooded back.

When she was six, she was crouched in a corner of the kindergarten playground when she saw a group of kids shoving a skinny boy.

That was Preston, the new kid.

He was an illegitimate child who always wore faded, worn-out clothes, and he was an easy target.

“Leave him alone,” little Laney had said, running over to stand in front of him. “Or I’ll tell the teacher.”

The other kids scattered.

Preston looked up at her. His face was smudged with dirt, but his gray-blue eyes were startlingly bright.

“Thank you.”

“It’s okay.” She pulled a piece of candy from her pocket and handed it to him.

“Here. I’ll protect you from now on.”

The image shifted.

On her twelfth birthday, the whole family was fussing over Genevieve, who had suddenly complained that her “heart felt funny.”

Laney sat alone in a corner, watching her mother present her birthday cake to Genevieve.

“Sis, can I have your cake?” Genevieve had asked sweetly.

“Of course,” Laney had said. “I’m not hungry.”

At fourteen, her face broke out in acne and her body grew soft and round.

Next to Genevieve, who was as delicate as a porcelain doll, Laney always felt clumsy.

Back then, only Camden had ever defended her.

“Don’t listen to them.”

When Camden was sixteen, he sought her out for the first time, handing her a collection of Yeats’s poetry.

“You’re special, Laney.”

She still had that book.

On the title page, he had written a single sentence.

“To the only light in my eyes.”