Chapter 110: Sadie: Mara

SADIE

Ngozi swivels around to face me, smiling. "While we wait, is there anything else you’d like to share?"

"Um..." I shift in my seat and smooth my hands over my thighs. "That sounds like a very large question. What kind of anything?"

"Your eyes are back to normal, and you said you still feel your wolf sometimes. That you know the presence you’re sensing is hers." She pauses. "When it happens, do you still feel like you’re in control?"

"I think so." At the slight change in her face, I hurry to explain. "No, I mean, yes. I’m still in control. She hasn’t acted out except for the incidents I told you about. Most of the time, I only feel her presence. She’s there, but she doesn’t do anything."

Ngozi nods, and my gaze wanders around her office.

It feels like three months have passed since I sat here and learned I might not even be an omega. So much has happened since then that I’ve barely had time to wonder what I’m supposed to be instead.

Honestly, if my wolf was waiting for new experiences before showing herself, she should’ve appeared by now. What could possibly be newer than the past few weeks? I got famous on Instagram, got threatened by the side chick of the century, kissed Trey at a bar in front of everyone, and watched Dixie destroy her feet, among several other things I’m probably better off forgetting.

Surely I’ve met the requirement by now. I’ve probably gathered enough new experiences for any extra wolves hiding in there too.

"Not to pry," Ngozi says, pulling me out of my thoughts, "but I thought that grumpy guy would be with you this time. What’s going on with him?"

She’s looked like she’s been holding that question in since I walked through the door, and waiting for my results must have finally given her the opening she needed.

"I guess he’s fine. You know, doing his own thing while I do mine."

Her head tilts, and her eyes narrow slightly. "I thought you two had a thing. He was definitely giving off that vibe the last time you were here."

"What vibe?" I ask, my voice flattening. "Trey doesn’t give off vibes. He gives people headaches."

"Right." She nods slowly. "I understand now. Send him my regards if you two work it out. I’d text him, but he only remembers my messages exist when he needs something."

Wait. Am I that easy to read? How did she figure out Trey and I aren’t on good terms? Was it my face? I should probably stop making faces whenever someone mentions him.

I exhale and shift in my chair. "What’s up with you two, anyway? You seem pretty close."

"If Trey hasn’t told you, maybe you two aren’t as close as I thought."

There’s an edge to her answer that makes me sit back a little. Am I supposed to meet some requirement before I’m allowed to know? I bite back a scoff. I never claimed to be glued to his side or the love of his life.

She turns to type something on her keyboard, leaving me to study her with a small frown. I know men and women can be friends, despite how determined some people are to argue otherwise, and whatever Ngozi is to Trey seems platonic. She could even be family. That would explain why I’m suddenly feeling like the girl who upset her brother.

When she faces me again, though, she’s smiling.

"Our families knew each other growing up. His mum was my mum’s best friend, so we were around each other a lot. We kept in touch."

"Oh."

Maybe I judged her too quickly. She’s still smiling at me, which makes me feel worse about deciding she was shutting me out before she’d even finished answering.

"Trey and I aren’t really talking right now," I admit. "His fault, though."

Ngozi nods without hesitation. "Yeah, him being the one who fucked up is much easier to believe."

Before I can decide how to respond to that, her laptop dings. She turns toward it and reaches for the mouse. "Your results are in."

I lean closer while she reads. I don’t even know what I’m hoping to hear, other than confirmation that my wolf hasn’t developed any more ridiculous abilities while I wasn’t paying attention.

"Your activity index is higher than last time," she says. "And your markers definitely aren’t consistent with an omega’s, so congratulations."

My attention moves from the laptop to her face. She sounds pleased, and I’d like to join her, but I’m still waiting for the part where she tells me what I am instead.

"But..." She pauses to read something again. "For now, you remain unclassified, mainly because of your history of suppression and the fact that your wolf hasn’t fully manifested yet."

I blink. "Unclassified?"

She nods.

"Okay, but what does that actually mean?"

Ngozi presses her lips together for a moment before answering. "Think of a tomato. People commonly treat it as a vegetable, but botanically, it’s a fruit."

"So I’m a tomato?"

"For this explanation, yes." She gestures toward the laptop. "You’ve been labeled an omega, but the results show that you aren’t one. With Trey’s suppressant out of your system, we’re getting a clearer picture of what you might be, although we still haven’t figured out what was suppressing your wolf before that."

My gaze drops to the screen, though staring at the numbers doesn’t make them mean anything.

"We could only speculate last time," she continues. "Now we can confirm you’re not an omega. That’s progress, Sadie. We just haven’t narrowed down what you are yet, and your wolf manifesting will help us do that."

I swallow, trying to follow. Yes, they know more. No, they can’t tell me what I am. I came here as an omega, and so far, the only replacement anyone has offered is a tomato.

A sigh escapes me before I can think of what to ask next.

"On the bright side, these results also confirm you don’t need the anti-rogue medication you were prescribed as an omega," Ngozi says.

Yay. That’s one good thing, even if I can’t quite feel happy about it with everything else crowding my head. A few weeks ago, hearing that would’ve had me crying with relief.

"I haven’t had time to visit the orphanage yet," I tell her. "But I’m going this weekend. Maybe I can ask a few questions and find something that helps my wolf manifest faster." My gaze drifts back to the screen. "Last time, you said my activity index looked like an Alpha’s. I keep thinking about that and what it might mean about my parents."

"About that..." Ngozi draws the laptop closer. "Since you grew up in an orphanage, I asked the lab to run a separate check with your blood sample. Privately. It’s something we sometimes do in cases like yours."

"What kind of check?"

"The ancestry registry. People submit their genetic profiles, and the system compares them to identify possible relatives," she explains. "There are limitations, though. Royal-born individuals and their registered descendants within three generations are excluded for privacy. By standard, their records aren’t available for matching."

I watch her click through the page. I tried this back in sophomore year and never found a match. After checking far too many times, I decided the site was a scam and deleted my profile.

"But we ran your profile through the available records," she continues. "One match came up."

My eyes widen. "What?"

She clicks again, but I’m already leaning forward, trying to see past her hand as she turns the laptop toward me.

"Her name is Mara Ellis. According to her profile, she’s twenty-two. About your age. You share about four percent of DNA."

Four percent? My heart starts pounding as I look from Ngozi to the screen, then back at her.

"Nothing came up before," I mumble. "There wasn’t anyone who shared DNA with me."

"The system can only compare your profile with the ones in its database," she explains. "She may have submitted hers recently, or only just enabled matching. That would explain why she didn’t show up before."

I lean closer and read Mara’s name again, though I’ve already read it twice. There’s really a link between us?

"You can message her directly through the website," Ngozi says. "Introduce yourself. See if she’s willing to talk."

I nod, still staring at the name. I want to send something now, before I’ve even worked out what to say, but first I make myself look at Ngozi.

"Thank you so much for doing this."

Her smile softens. "You don’t have to thank me, Sadie."