ONE

CAMILLE'S POV

Breathing shouldn’t be hard. But for some reason, it felt incredibly difficult. That should have been a dead ringer that something was wrong but I didn’t move a muscle until the harsh rays of the morning sun hit my face.

“Goddess,” Even my voice sounded groggy.

The weight and the pulsating ache in my temples was the first clue that this was no ordinary morning. Blinking against the blinding light, I found myself staring at a ceiling that I did not quite recognize.

The alcohol in my system had subsided so I could think clearly and I had lived in my parent’s home for more than twenty years. Drunk or not, I would recognize our home’s signature popcorn ceiling.

The ceiling I was staring at was smooth. It looked like white cement. It looked expensive.

When I tried to take a deep breath, I found it hard to take in air again and that was when I realized that the weight in my temples was not the wonderful afterglow of drinking.

I looked and a gasp escaped my mouth. I put my hand over it to muffle the sound. Explain to me how a completely naked stranger was sprawled on me, blissfully oblivious to my awakening.

Did I? I was panicking. I could practically hear my heart threaten to jump to my mouth. That stressed me out more. Because the complete stranger that had made my breast his pillow would totally hear my heart spiralling and wake up.

To make matters worse, I realized that the dark-haired stranger was not the only one who was in his birthday suit.

I looked around to see if I could make sense of what was happening. I could see clothes strewn across the room. My gown was on the floor, so close to the door that looked like it led outside and my pants were hooked to the door handle.

By some miracle, the stranger turned and rolled away from my body. I stood still and held my breath at that moment. I couldn’t have him wake up and make this moment any more awkward.

I knew what had happened. I wasn’t going to admit it. But I knew. The second I had the stranger off my body, I sprinted off the bed and attempted to gather my things.

I picked up my gown and untangled my panties from the door handle. That was when I noticed the key dangling from the door had a tag on it.

Room 56.

This was not an apartment or a studio. It was a hotel room. Somehow that made things better because if possible, I would love to avoid any interaction with the naked man behind me.

My bra was nowhere to be found so I made it my personal mission to find them. The walk of shame was unavoidable in this situation but to do them without a bra was out of the question.

I found my heels and with just enough luck, found my phone. It was on the dresser. When I tiptoed in its direction and proceeded to pick it up. I realized the condom on the dresser was unused.

Surely, he must have used a condom. Right?

I wish I had an answer to that. Because as much as I tried to remember the fragments that were at the back of my mind. All I really got were broken pieces of laughter, shared glances, and the hazy recollection of intimacy that lingered on my body like a ghostly perfume. But no matter how hard I tried, the details eluded me, slipping through my fingers like smoke.

The urgency to escape overshadowed any attempt to piece together the puzzle of the night before. Each clap of the floor beneath my careful steps echoed like a drumbeat of indiscretion.

I stole glances at the man in the bed, my heart pounding with regret. The first time I decided to get wasted was the same time I lost my virginity and to a stranger at that.

I stopped at the door and gave the dark-haired stranger one last look. His face was full and clean-shaven. He looked like he worked in the office and his body, most of what I could see at least made it clear that he took care of his body.

“At least, he’s cute.”

I dressed in silence. The moment I was done, I attempted to unlock the door but for some reason, the clicking of the opening lock sounded like a bullet in the middle of a business meeting. Then dark dark-haired stranger made a noise.

I froze at the sound of a barely audible snore. Panic seized me, urging me to quicken my pace.

I turned to his side for a brief second. He was not awake. He didn’t seem like he would even be awake for a while. When I was certain he was still asleep, I turned the key once more and the lock clicked open.

The world outside the room felt like a distant reality, and I clung to the hope that I could slip away without awakening the enigma beside me.

I stepped out of the room and shut the door behind me. Then I ran.

Wearing heels that clacked against the tiled hallway, I made a beeline for the elevator. The metallic doors slid open with a soft ding, and I stepped inside, my heart still pounding from the mad dash out of the room. The enclosed space offered a moment of respite, and I pressed the ground floor button, eager to put as much distance as possible between me and the half-naked stranger left behind.

As the elevator descended, my mind raced faster than the mechanical descent. I replayed the night's events in my head, attempting to extract some semblance of clarity from the foggy memories. A surge of anxiety coursed through me, fueled by the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

The lobby greeted me with a sterile hush as the elevator doors opened. Seven in the morning meant the world outside was still groggy, wrapped in the remnants of sleep. It was my saving grace – fewer prying eyes to witness my dishevelled state and hurried escape.

Out on the street, I hailed a cab, my gaze darting nervously around as if expecting familiar faces to materialize from the morning mist. The cab pulled up, a sanctuary on wheels that promised a getaway from the surreal situation I found myself in.

"Where to, miss?" the cab driver inquired.

I rattled off my address, the words leaving my lips almost instinctively.

The cab started moving, weaving through the quiet morning streets, and the rhythmic hum of the engine became a soothing backdrop to my chaotic thoughts.

Leaning back into the worn leather seat, I attempted to gather the scattered fragments of composure. The city passed by in a blur, similar to my clandestine night. I glanced at my reflection in the cab's window, the dishevelled hair and smudged mascara telling a tale I wasn't yet ready to comprehend.

The cab driver, perhaps sensing my unease, refrained from engaging in small talk. Silence enveloped the space, allowing me to confront the jumble of emotions without external intrusion. Questions swirled in my mind – who was he? What had possessed me to follow him into a hotel? And what awaited me at home? Mom would definitely kill me.

As we neared my destination, a knot tightened in my stomach.

It did not help matters that there was a black limousine parked outside my house like an ominous spectre. That was also the exact moment that I checked my phone. The do-not-disturb feature had been turned on. At least, I remembered doing that at the bar before I got wasted.

There were a hundred missed calls from both my mom and my dad. That was not even an exaggeration. There were literally a hundred mixed calls from them.

The cab slowed to a stop while I tried to conjure an excuse I would give to them for not coming home last night as I fumbled for cash to pay the fare, my hands betraying the tremor within. I might be an adult. But I was not really a free woman. Not while I lived under their roof.

With a quick thank you to the cab driver, I stepped out onto the familiar pavement, the weight of the night still clinging to my every step.

The cab rolled away, leaving me standing before the limousine. The first thing to catch my attention on the jet-black limousine was the plates. They were yellow, a deep contrast to the car itself and they were branded.

Flowers. Lily of the Valley to be precise.

To a man, that would just be a fun plate. But as an Omega, I knew. The plates meant it was the property of the Lily of the Valley pack.

***

I wondered what the property of an Elite pack would be doing in our driveway. Its presence there unnerved me enough that I picked out my device and sent a call to my mom.

She picked up almost immediately. ‘Hello, Camille. Where are you?” The worry in her tone was the first thing I picked.

“I am outside the house,” I replied. “But there is a limousine in her driveway. I think it is the property of the Lily of the Valley pack. Is that not the pack Dad was affiliated with before he broke his allegiance to his Alpha?”

Mom did not answer. All I could hear amidst the static was her laboured breathing. After a brief moment of silence, she finally spoke. “Camille, I think it would be better if you just came inside. There is something you must know.”

Then she ended the call. I let out a humorous laugh because of how serious she sounded.

Quick on my feet, I pushed open the front door which was to my surprise open. My steps were slow and cautious the second my sensitive ears caught that the heartbeats in the house were more than six. We had visitors? I continued onward with my heart slowly increasing with intensity.

The foyer greeted me with its familiar scent, a mixture of lavender and aged wood.

Yet, as I entered the living room, the atmosphere shifted, disrupted by the presence of strangers in impeccably tailored suits.

They looked like Sentinels. Why in the world would Sentinels from the largest pack in North Brookport be in our house?

My gaze met my parents. They were seated and holding this plastic smile on their faces. I knew discomfort when I saw it and I could tell the only reason they were masking how they were feeling was because I was in the room. Which confused me even more. Were we in danger?

Standing beside them were two individuals, both adorned in sleek suits that seemed out of place in our cosy home. They exuded an aura of authority that hinted at a world beyond the mundane.

"Sweetheart, we need to talk," my mother began, her eyes betraying a mix of concern and sorrow.

I glanced between my parents and the suited duo, a knot forming in my stomach. There were more in the house. They were probably hiding but I could hear their heartbeats. "Talk about what?" I asked, taking a step back and steeling my hands to my phone just in case I would have to use the damn thing as a weapon.

My father gestured toward the suited strangers. "These are envoys from the Lily of the Valley pack."

“Dad, I know,” I answered. “What I do not understand is why they are here and what they want with us?”

“Mr. Gallagher is not your father.” One of the envoys spoke.

“What?!” The laugh that left my lips was dry. Hollow even. I looked at my mom and then my Dad. Why did they look guilty? Why were their faces down? “Dad, what are they saying?”

“We are saying-” The envoy tried to say only to be cut off by my father.

“We will tell her!”

“Tell me what?” I demanded. “What is happening?”

“The envoys are here to take you. I know this must sound preposterous for you to hear but we are not your biological parents.”

That sentence alone from my father brought my whole world crashing down.

I stood there frozen, my mind unable to process the words that had just left my father's mouth. "What do you mean?"I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

My mother reached out to me, her hand trembling as she placed it on my shoulder. "Camille, we love you so much," she said, her eyes brimming with tears. "But we're not your real parents."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to comprehend what was happening. The envoys from the Lily of the Valley pack stood stoically by their side, their presence only adding to the surrealness of the situation.

"Who are my real parents?"I asked numbly.

"The Alpha and Luna of the Lily of the Valley pack," my father–I guess I couldn't call him that now replied, his voice thick with emotion. "We found you abandoned in the woods when you were just a baby. We took you in and raised you as our own."

The weight of his words hit me like a ton of bricks. Everything I thought I knew about myself and my life had been shattered in an instant.

"What happens now?"I asked, feeling lost and alone.

"The envoys will take you back to the Lily of the Valley pack," my mother explained softly. "It is time we let you go."

"I do not want to go," I retorted. "I am an adult and I am capable of making my own decisions. Like you said, I was abandoned. An alpha and a Luna of a prominent pack do not just lose their daughter."

"If you do not come with us," One of the envoys chipped in. "Your parents would be branded as kidnappers and traitors. You weren't just abandoned, Miss Camille, you were taken. You were switched. I am not sure how your parents can defend themselves in front of a council. Especially when your father used to be a Sentinel of the pack."

"I do not care," I retorted only to be slapped across the face by my "father".

"How dare you?" He spat.

The sting from the slap on my face matched the sharpness in his tone. I rubbed my cheek, defiance flickering in my eyes.

"How dare you?" he spat again, his anger palpable. "We have done nothing but live simple lives. We didn't commit a crime raising you. We just did one good deed. So you will return the favour, pack your things and get into that car. You owe us that much."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The reality of being uprooted from the life I knew and thrust into a pack that, until now, had been nothing more than a distant origin, overwhelmed me. I felt a profound sense of loss, not just for the parents I thought were mine but for the identity I had built around them.

"Is that what you want?" I managed to choke out.

"Yes!" It was grating to hear. But it was spoken.

"Okay, I will leave."

Then the rage that seemed to be plastered on my "father's" face dwindled. I saw him reach out as if to offer comfort, but I pulled away.

The space between us now felt like an unbridgeable chasm. The family bonds that once seemed so solid had disintegrated in the span of a conversation.

The envoys, stoic figures in the background, stepped forward. Their presence was a reminder that this wasn't just a family matter; it was a matter of pack dynamics, of a broader world that held claims over my existence.

"I will go ahead and pack my things," I declared, my voice steadier than I felt.

As I ascended the stairs to my room, old memories danced around me like ghosts.

The familiar surroundings that once provided comfort now felt alien. The bed, the books, the pictures on the wall—all carried the weight of a life built on lies.

Packing became an act of detachment. Each item I placed in my suitcase was a step away from a past that crumbled like beach sand.

My "mother" hovered in the doorway, her eyes red with unshed tears. I couldn't meet her gaze. I was angry at her too.

Once the last item found its place in my suitcase, I took a final look at the room that held so much history and so many deceptions.

Rage filled me again. So I zipped up the suitcase, sealing away the remnants of a life that was never truly mine.

Downstairs, my "father" waited. His face bore the scars of a strained attempt at composure.

I descended the stairs, suitcase in hand, and faced the remnants of what I once called a family. A family that scattered like a house of cards in the face of the truth.

"If I walk out of that door," I told them. "if I step out of that door and you don't tell me to stop. I will not come back. I will not look for you."

The silence stretched for a hot minute. But it didn't take long for my "mother" to break. She attempted to run to me with tears in her eyes. But "father" held her back.

With clenched jaws, he turned to me and said, "You should go, Camille. Your Carriage awaits."

The envoys gestured for me to follow and I obeyed.

As I walked away from the only home I had ever known, I couldn't shake the feeling that, in that moment, that my life had been irrevocably altered.