Thank you, dear reader

Newsletter present for you!

Thank you so much for reading my book and joining my newsletter. As a present for you, I wrote a short story about when Truth and Owen meet. I figured you would like that. Truth – oh boy, that man – I didn’t expect him to be so big. I didn’t plan for his character to take over like he did, but he said, “Tough titties, here I am.” And I gotta say, I love him so much. I can’t wait to see how he grows in his book. Anyway, enjoy the little short scene. Let me know what you think. Hugs.

Taylor

When Truth Met Owen

A Wrong Sacrifice Short Story

OWEN FROZE IN the doorway of the packhouse kitchen, the mug of chamomile tea Alpha Thomas had given him still steaming in his hands. Someone else was already there, perched on the counter like he owned the place, swinging his legs and eating what appeared to be his third cinnamon roll.

The stranger’s head snapped toward him with uncanny speed, and Owen’s breath caught.

He looked exactly like Justice. Same face, same mismatched eyes—one icy blue, one green. But where Justice’s expression was all careful control and brooding silence, this man wore a grin that was all teeth and absolutely no warmth.

“Well, well,” the stranger said, tilting his head at an angle that made Owen’s neck hurt just looking at it. “What do we have here?”

Owen’s fingers tightened around the mug. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was…I can c-come back later—”

“Relax, gorgeous. I don’t bite.” The man’s grin widened. “Actually, that’s a lie. I absolutely do bite, but only when asked nicely.”

Owen’s face went hot. He took a step backward.

“Truth.” Justice’s voice cut through the kitchen like a blade. Owen hadn’t heard him come down the stairs. “Stop terrorizing him.”

“I’m not terrorizing anyone!” Truth pressed a hand to his chest, the picture of wounded innocence. “I’m being charming. There’s a difference.”

“You’re being yourself,” Justice said flatly. “Which is often indistinguishable from terrorizing.”

Truth hopped down from the counter with inhuman grace, landing without a sound. Up close, Owen could see the differences now. Faint scales shimmered at Truth’s temples and down his neck. He was taller, longer, and sharper, where Justice had more athletic bulk. His pupils contracted into thin slits, like a cat shifter, and electricity seemed to hum beneath his skin.

“You must be Owen,” Truth said, and his voice had lost some of its sharp edge. “The Omega everyone’s been whispering about.”

Owen’s gaze dropped to his feet. “I-I’m not…I don’t mean to be—”

“Hey.” Truth stepped closer, and Owen flinched. Not dramatically. Just a tiny hitch in his shoulders, a fractional lean backward. But Truth saw it. His wrong smile flickered and died. “Okay, new rule. No sudden movements around the jumpy Omega. Got it.”

“Truth,” Justice warned.

“What? I’m adapting!” Truth held up his hands, palms out. Then his gaze snagged on Owen’s wrists.

The bruises were impossible to miss, even though they were fading. Blue, yellow, and green blotchy, finger-shaped marks that wrapped all the way around. Owen tugged his sleeves down, but it was too late.

Something dangerous flashed across Truth’s face. The scales at his temples shimmered brighter. When he spoke, his voice had gone flat. “Who did that to you?”

“N-no one. I just…I’m clumsy. I f-fell and—”

“That’s a lie.” Truth’s head tilted again, reptilian and assessing. “You’re not very good at lying. Your pulse jumps, and you won’t make eye contact. Also, those are finger marks. Unless you fell into a very aggressive pair of hands, someone grabbed you.”

Owen’s throat closed. Tears pricked at his eyes, hot and humiliating.

“Truth,” Justice said again, quieter this time. “Enough.”

Truth blinked, and the dangerous thing in his expression smoothed away. He took a deliberate step back, giving Owen space. “Sorry. That was—I have a thing about people hurting Omegas. Bad habit from the lab.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. “Zachary used to… never mind. Not your problem.”

Owen stared at him, at the way Truth’s hands trembled slightly before he shoved them in his pockets. At the flicker of pain that crossed his face before the wrong smile snapped back into place.

“You’re J-Justice’s brother,” Owen said quietly.

“Twin, technically.” Truth gestured between them. “Same birthday. Same terrible childhood. Same hybrid modifications, except I’ve got the premium version.” He paused. “And I got the better looks, obviously.”

Justice made a sound that might have been a snort.

Owen’s lips twitched. Just barely, but Truth saw it, and his grin turned genuine for half a second.

“There it is,” Truth said. “A smile. I knew it was in there somewhere.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Justice said. His hand landed on Owen’s shoulder. Gentle. Grounding. Owen leaned into the touch without thinking.

Truth watched them with an unreadable expression. Then he picked up his plate of cinnamon rolls and turned around, but looked at Owen over his shoulder. “You know what Justice and I have in common, Owen?”

Owen shook his head.

“We’re both really good at pretending we’re fine when we’re not.” Truth’s smile was sharper now, but sadder. “We’ve spent our whole lives being told we’re broken. That we’re dangerous. That we’re not worth saving.” He met Owen’s eyes. “So when I look at you—with your flinches and your apologies and your ‘I’m clumsy’ excuses—I recognize it. That feeling like you deserve what happened to you.”

Owen’s breath hitched.

“You don’t,” Truth said. “Deserve it, I mean. Whatever that bastard did to make you think you’re not worth protecting? He was wrong.”

The tears Owen had been holding back spilled over. He scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, embarrassed, but Truth didn’t look away.

“We’re all sorts of broken around here,” Truth continued, gentler now. “Justice with his nightmares and his control issues. Me with my glitchy nervous system and my tendency to electrocute things when I’m stressed. Alpha Thomas with his savior complex. This whole pack is basically a collection of damaged goods trying to figure out how to be people again.”

He took a step back toward the counter, close enough now that Owen could see the way his scales caught the light. Close enough to be vulnerable.

“Welcome to the family of broken things,” Truth said. “Fair warning, we’re all disasters. But we’re disasters together, so it’s slightly less terrible.”

Owen let out a wet laugh. It came out broken and choked, but it was real.

Truth’s wrong smile softened into something almost genuine. “There you go. That’s better.” He gestured at Owen’s mug. “Your tea’s getting cold, by the way. If you want to hide out in here while you drink it, I promise to be only moderately disturbing.”

“You can’t promise that,” Justice said.

“I can absolutely promise that.” Truth hopped back onto the counter, picking at his cinnamon roll. “I’m very good at moderately disturbing. It’s my sweet spot.”

Owen wiped his eyes and took a tentative step toward the table. His ribs ached with every breath, and his body still throbbed where the bruises were darkest, but something in his chest felt lighter.

He sat down carefully, cradling his tea. Truth stayed on the counter, swinging his legs and making occasional commentary about the quality of Wendy’s baking. Justice leaned against the wall, quiet and watchful, his presence a steady anchor.

And for the first time since Alpha Thomas had pulled him into the packhouse and seen the truth Owen had been hiding, Owen felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t alone anymore.

“So,” Truth said, breaking the comfortable silence. “What’s your damage? And before you say ‘nothing,’ I can literally smell trauma from across the room. It’s a gift. Very useful at parties.”

“Truth,” Justice warned for the third time.

“What? I’m bonding!” Truth looked genuinely affronted. “This is what bonding looks like. Mutual oversharing and inappropriate questions.”

Despite everything, Owen laughed again. A real one this time.

Truth beamed. “See? I’m delightful. Justice just doesn’t appreciate my charm.”

“No one appreciates your charm,” Justice said.

“Lies and slander.” Truth bit into another cinnamon roll. “Owen appreciates it. Don’t you, Owen?”

Owen glanced between the two brothers—one brooding and protective, the other chaotic and somehow comforting in his complete lack of filter. Both of them were damaged in ways Owen was only beginning to understand. Both of them were still here, still trying, still fighting.

“Yeah,” Owen said softly. “I-I think I do.”

Truth’s grin turned genuine. Justice’s expression softened.

And Owen thought that maybe, possibly, he might actually be safe here.

End