Page 3 of Scheme
“Where’s Jules?” I asked.
“With her future alpha,” Dad replied. “She’s eighteen, that’s who she needs to be relying on now in the lead-up to her heat.”
He and Mum exchanged a look that Iknewwas about me and my failure to do just that. How fortunate for them, that they had three beautiful omega daughters to follow the path that I’d spectacularly diverted from.
“Alright, well, I’ll see you when I see you, I guess,” I said, already closing the door, eager to get rid of them. There was a reason why I’d moved out of the little village I’d grown up in over a decade ago and only went back when my youngest siblings or my nana needed me.
I took a steadying breath on the top stair, assembling my expression into something that I hoped resembled calm. I wasn’t sure how Chelsea and Asher would take the news, and I didn’t want them to feel as though they had to manage my emotions as well as their own.
Chelsea let me in when I knocked on the door to my flat, and I was totally unsurprised to see that she was in the midst of going through my make-up bag on the small dining table.
“This stuff is so bougie,” she said, admiring the absurdly expensive bottle of foundation. It was a perfect shade match for me and actually felt comfortable to wear, and one didn’t wear as much makeup as I did without developing some pretty strong preferences about it.
Asher had made himself at home on the small two-person sofa, kicking his feet up, sketchbook and pencil in hand. He’d only been here once before because my parents so rarely came into the city, so I didn’t know why he felt so comfortable putting his feet all over my furniture.
“So,” Asher began, all traces of cheerfulness gone. “Are you going to tell us how Calum really died?”
And here I’d been, worried about how they were going to take the news. “You two should really consider careers in espionage.”
“Does it pay as well as being a lawyer?” Chelsea asked, admiring my most expensive tube of rosy pink matte lipstick.
“I don’t know,” I replied, filling the kettle to make us all tea. “It might come with a wardrobe allowance, though.”
“Come on,” Asher whined. “You’re changing the subject.”
I sighed, turning to look at them and leaning back against the bench while the kettle began to boil in the background.
Looking at Asher and Chelsea next to each other was eerily like looking at Calum and Layla side-by-side back in the day. The same chocolate brown curls, tanned skin, light hazel eyes, and perfectly symmetrical faces. Except where the oldest trio was rounded out by me and my unfortunate collection of scrap genes, Jules, the oldest of these three, was also stunning.
“Margot,” Asher began, sitting up and setting his sketchbook aside, all teenage confrontation. He was only fourteen, and like all teenagers coming into their dynamic, hereeked. I vaguely wondered if there was a tactful way of giving him an industrial-sized tub of Om-Guard, my favoured brand of omega scentshield lotion. It wasn’t as though I was short of bottles—if I had my way, no one would smell my scent ever again. “As our oldest and most likeable sibling, I think you have a responsibility to tell us the truth.”
“Is that so?” I replied, amused in spite of the dire circumstances. This is why my youngest siblings were my favourites.
“Yes. Everyone is lying to us. They tried saying that Calum was sick and that’s why we had to come to the city, which is some serious bullshit—”Was I supposed to stop him swearing? Surely he was old enough for curse words“—because they’ve been on the phone all day, and they must think we’re deaf or stupid not to hear what they’ve been saying.”
“Plus,” Asher continued. “Layla showed up sobbing with all her dependents in tow—”
“Her children, you mean.”
“—but she was so hysterical that Dad sent her away,” Asher continued. “Which is odd since she wasn’t even close with Calum and never missed an opportunity to tell us all how irresponsible he was for not taking a mate yet.” He paused to take a breath while Chelsea nodded along enthusiastically.
“The compassion is really rolling off the two of you in waves.”
“We get it from you,” Asher shot back. He was such a sassy pants, this youngest brother of mine. I hoped he never lost all that spark, even though I knew Dad was trying to snuff it out. “Come on, Margot. We three are all omegas. We have to stick together.”
The kettle beeped, and I considered my next words carefully while I set out three cups and dropped the teabags in, pouring the water and letting them steep.
“If it helps,” Chelsea said quietly. “You won’t be shattering any illusions about Calum in our eyes.”
“Yeah, he had some pretty fucked up views of male omegas, which he wasmorethan happy to share with me after I presented,” Asher added bitterly.
I didn’t need to ask if Mum and Dad had done anything to reel Calum in. They’d made no secret of how ashamed they were to have an omega son.
Assholes.
Recent research suggested that male omegas weren’t actually becoming more common over the past few hundred years, as had been previously assumed, but that they’d always been around. They’d just been killed by their families the moment they presented. They still faced prejudices today, and it was heartbreaking that Asher was experiencing them from his own fucking parents.
“Calum is dead,” I said decisively, looking between the two of them. “I’m meant to tell you it was a heart attack—that’s the story everyone else will get.”
