Page 66 of Traded

Mine is always going to come last.

I only vaguely hear the knock against my door. “Rosie? Can I talk to you?”

“Go away,” I gasp. I link my hands behind my head and lean forward, breathing heavily. White spots dance in front of my eyes. Everything is swimming, and woozy.

The door cracks open. There’s a sharp inhale.

“Woah. Okay. Just…breathe.” A hand brushes my back. “I need you to breathe, okay? Do you want me to get Carter? I’ll get you some water.”

The voice is female. Distressed. Floral sweetness floods my nose, floods my space, drowns me out completely.

She is erasing me.Piece by piece, taking away all the little parts of my life that matter. My alphas, my nest, my home, my life.Everyone is angry, and sharp, and everything is breaking.

And now she’s here, in my nest. Chipping away a little bit more.

“Get out,” I rasp. A damp cloth touches my neck, and I flinch away from it. “Get out, get out,get out!”

My voice raises to a scream. Until I’m screaming, over and over, and my hands are in her hair, and there’s shouting and yelling and crying. Some mine, some hers, some theirs.

Everyone is screaming. Or maybe it’s just me.

“Enough.” The roar cuts through the buzz of agony. “Let go of her.”

The whimper ripples up my throat as my fingers release their grip. I fold back, my body seeking a wall, a corner, anywhere to curl up and hide.

Hands move toward me, and my arms fling up to cover my head. The noises keep coming out. Noises that I’ve never made. Small, pained, pleading noises. My head bangs back into the wall as I curl myself up, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Small enough that I no longer exist at all.

Chapter twenty

Choices & Chokers

Hands run through my hair, spreading it out.

Someone is listening to my music. Eighties pop.

“Why are you here?” I turn my face, taking in the faint scent of leather beneath me. “What time is it?”

The words are croaky with sleep. The hoarseness reminds me of last night, and I close my eyes, hoping it’ll vanish into a fucked-up nightmare I don’t have to face today.

“I didn’t know I needed an invitation.” Liam’s fingers don’t stop moving. I shift my head, taking in the jeans he wore last night. Grey lines of light slip between the window blinds. “After seven. I didn’t want you to wake up on your own.”

I drag myself upright, every muscle aching with remembered tension. “Where’s Lauren?”

God. My hands were buried in herhair. There might be a few dark strands still caught between my fingers, and I wipe them against my legs. “I’ll… apologize.”

He slept sitting up. His legs are stretched out on top of my blankets, his hair rumpled. “Jonas is with her.”

So he did stay with her.But the barb barely registers. I feel curiously numb.

Chewing on my lip, I flick a quick glance his way. “Is she…”

“She’s okay.” He doesn’t smile. “Are you?”

Am I?

“No,” I say eventually. “I don’t think I am.”