As if it had been a choice.
"Your status in the pack," Garrett continued, and his voice shifted back to the cold, clinical tone of an alpha dispensing orders, "will remain omega. I cannot take the risk of elevating you, Lilith. If the Blackwoods find out that youâve been restored to a higher rank, they may interpret it as disrespect. As a slight against their authority."
He paused, letting that land.
"They may decide that your punishment wasnât sufficient. That our pack deserves a stronger lesson." He looked at the three elders. They nodded in agreement. No sympathy. No doubt. Just the cold calculation of survival.
"You and your mother will remain omega," Garrett said flatly. "You will remain in omega housing. You will work omega assignments. You will accept omega status and all that it entails. This is not negotiable."
Lilith felt something inside her go very still.
Sheâd known this was coming. Had understood on some level that returning to Shadowmere meant returning to nothing. That being released by the Blackwoods didnât mean redemption, it meant she was still the traitorâs daughter. Still marked. Still unwanted.
But hearing it stated so plainly, so coldly, so absolutely final was different from suspecting it.
"However," Garrett said, and there was something in his voice that suggested what came next was even worse, "there is another matter we need to discuss."
He set the letter down and folded his hands on the desk.
"During your time at the Blackwood estate, they covered all of your motherâs medical expenses. All hospital bills. All treatments. Everything." He paused. "That was part of the agreement. A gesture of goodwill from Alpha Nicholas to ensure your cooperation."
Lilithâs stomach dropped.
"Now that the agreement has ended," Garrett continued, "we have no guarantee that they will continue to cover those expenses. In fact, Alpha Nicholasâs letter makes no mention of ongoing financial support. Which suggests...."
"The bills stop," Lilith said. Her voice was rough from disuse. From crying. From not speaking for hours.
"Yes," Garrett confirmed. "The bills stop. As of the end of this month, your motherâs medical care will become your responsibility again."
The elders watched her. No expression. No judgment visible. They simply observed, like she was an interesting specimen under glass.
"The hospital has informed me that your motherâs current treatment plan costs approximately four thousand dollars per month," Garrett said. He stated it like a fact. Like a number that didnât represent her motherâs survival. "That includes her room, her care, her medications, the monitoring equipment. Everything required to keep her alive."
Four thousand dollars.
Lilithâs omega wages barely covered six hundred. Sheâd been working garbage duty for two months and had barely been able to afford rent. Four thousand dollars might as well be a million.
"Starting next month," Garrett continued, "you will need to find a way to cover those costs. You can request additional work assignments. You can petition for higher-paying positions if you believe youâre qualified. The pack is willing to provide opportunities for you to earn."
He was being generous. She understood that. He was offering her a chance to work her way out of the debt instead of simply turning off her motherâs life support and letting her die.
But it was still a trap. Still a cage. Still a way of ensuring that she would never have any freedom, any peace, any life outside of desperate scrambling to keep her mother alive.
"Do you understand what Iâm telling you?" Garrett asked.
Lilith nodded.
"I need to hear you say it," he said. Still cold. Still clinical. Still the voice of an alpha speaking to an omega.
"I understand," Lilith said quietly. "The bills are my responsibility starting next month. I need to figure out how to pay for my motherâs care."
"Good," Garrett said. He stood from his chair, indicating that the meeting was over. "I suggest you begin exploring your options immediately. The pack will cooperate with any reasonable request for additional work. But I cannot protect you if you fall behind on payments. The hospital has its own policies about what happens when bills go unpaid."
Transfer to county care.
Where people went to die slowly.
Lilith understood perfectly.
"Youâre dismissed," Garrett said.
She turned toward the door.
"Lilith," he called out. She paused at the threshold without turning back. "Welcome home."
The words were meant to sound kind. They landed like a condemnation.
She left without responding.
The hallway outside Garrettâs office was empty.
Lilith walked through it without seeing it, her mind already calculating. Four thousand a month. Her omega wages. The cost of rent. The cost of food. The cost of surviving.
Sheâd done the math three months ago when sheâd first been demoted. Had understood then that there was no path forward that didnât involve her mother dying. The only variable had been whether it would be quick or slow.
Now she understood that the Blackwoods had given her a reprieve. A temporary one. A month of breathing room before the bills came due again and the trap snapped shut permanently.
Unless something changed.
Unless she found a way to earn more money. Unless she was elevated out of omega status, though Garrett had made it clear that wasnât happening. Unless something fundamentally shifted in her circumstances.
She was back where sheâd started.
Desperate. Broken. Alone.
Except she wasnât quite the same girl whoâd left Shadowmere three weeks ago. That girl had been naive about what the world could do to her. That girl had believed that if she was willing to sacrifice enough, something would be saved.
This girl....the one walking through the pack corridors with her head held high despite the weight crushing down on her, understood that sacrifice meant nothing. That the world took what it wanted and offered nothing in return. That survival was a luxury most people couldnât afford.
This girl was dangerous because she had nothing left to lose.
Lilith pushed open the door to the stairwell and started climbing. Not toward the elevator. Not toward the hospital where her mother lay unconscious. But toward the omega housing complex on the edge of pack territory.
She needed to think.
She needed to plan.
She needed to figure out how to keep her mother alive when the world was actively working to let her die.
And as she walked, she felt something settle inside her chest. A coldness. A clarity. A determination that went beyond survival.
She would figure this out.
She would find a way.
And if she couldnât, if the math truly had no solution, then she would make the people responsible for this understand exactly what theyâd taken from her.
The thought should have frightened her.
Instead, it felt like the first true thing sheâd felt since arriving back in Shadowmere.