The Last Rose

The Last Rose BOOK ONE IN THE BROKEN OMEGA SERIES KITT LYNN LUPO PUBLISHING Copyright © 2023 by Kitt Lynn Cover design by https://www.justventurearts.com/ Editing by Mountains Wanted Publishing & Indie Author Services All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. ISBN: 978-1-958309-05-6 (Paperback) ISBN: 978-1-958309-04-9 (eBook) For more information visit www.kittlynn.com Contents About This Book Omega Chart Fourteen Years Ago Fourteen Years Later The Havenfield Claiming Offices Strolling Through the Dorms The Havenfield Lobby The Entryway Corie’s Cove The Warehouse Basement Later That Morning The Kitchen Stairs On The Couch A Few Days Later By the Willow Tree Finn’s Office Dinner Finn’s Bed Outside Finn’s Room The Garden Corie’s Cove The Next Morning The Examination Room The Day of the Gala The Gala The Apartment Going Home The Next Morning Noah’s Bed Three Days Later Finn’s Bedroom Checking The House Under the Kitchen Table The Dark Hallway The Entryway Closet Held Hostage Finn’s Bedroom That Night One Week Later Need More? Acknowledgments About the Author About This Book This series centers around omegas that are abused, traumatized, or have even broken the law. Each book tells the journey of an omega trying to find love and acceptance in a world that has broken them. The alphas in these books are not always kind to their omegas. They are controlling and demanding and often make bad decisions that aren’t always helpful. Please keep this in mind before reading. Content/Trigger Warnings: Omegaverse (no shifter elements) Why choose: MMMMF Frotting, spanking, spit roasting, hurt/comfort Discussions of mental diagnosis PTSD Descriptions of anxiety/panic attacks Death on page Abuse of a child (by a secondary character) Elements of torture (done to a bad guy) Childhood trauma Death of parents Some gun violence Some gore Omega Chart Patient Name: Corie Smith Age: 24 Status: Never mated. Fertile. Height: 5’ 1” Body Type: Hourglass. Large breasts, overall curvy. Intake Overview: Admitted to the program at age 10. An incident has left her with no family. Initial Assessment: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Social Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Chronic Omega Distress Disorder (CODD) Education: Completed all levels of education and certification available. Enjoys art. Placement Requirements: Daily medication. Weekly therapy. Her anxieties come on suddenly and without warning—avoid all touch until she initiates contact. An omega cove is required. Doctor’s Orders: See next page. Fourteen Years Ago Corie * * * “Child! If you are not dressed and ready in the next ten minutes, I’m calling one of your fathers up here!” Momma shouts as she enters my room. As always, she looks stunning. Her elegant, silky red dress shimmers as she moves. And the long slit that travels up to her hip shows off her matching red high heels. I normally love getting ready for parties with her, but not today. I feel gross. Icky. My lavender dress, with its delicate lace ruffles along the sleeves and hem, is too tight, and it itches. It was perfect yesterday, but right now, it feels like sandpaper rubbing my arms and chest raw. “What’s wrong, pup?” Momma asks, sitting next to me at the foot of my bed. Her dark brown hair slips over her shoulder, covering one side of her face. It looks like a shiny curtain. I wish I had straight hair like hers instead of a curly red mess. Momma crosses one leg over the other. “You look upset.” “I don’t feel very good,” I mumble, hugging my knees to my chest. I haven’t even put on my shoes yet, and they’re my favorite part. Glossy white with tiny silver buckles on the side and a full inch at the heel. While they aren’t as impressive as Momma’s, they still give me a bit of height, and at just under five feet tall, it’s almost magical that I’ll be a full inch taller just by slipping them on. But right now, the thought of putting on more clothes makes me want to cry. “Let me feel you.” Momma cups my cheeks, pressing her lips to my forehead. Her lipstick is glossy, sticking to my skin. I normally love it when she leaves makeup kisses on my cheeks, but today the goopy mess makes me cringe. “You’re a bit warm,” she says, rubbing her thumbs in small circles over my temples. It feels good. “Can I just go to bed?” Something deep inside me twists so hard, I can feel it in my throat. It feels like my guts are shifting around, twisting and turning in all different directions. Momma looks conflicted for a moment as she thinks it over. “I need to talk to your father,” she says, smoothing her hand over the back of my head. My hair is frizzy and stiff at the same time. The sweat from my face is making my curls go wild despite the liberal amounts of hairspray Silvia applied. “Tonight is very important,” Momma says, brushing my hair over my shoulder. I want to jerk away from her, but she would scold me for being rude, so I stay put. “Your father wants us to be seen as a strong pack, and the best way to do that is to show our faces and smile through the pain.” I nod, knowing I wouldn't have been able to get out of it anyway. “Yes, ma’am,” I mumble against my knees. She sighs hard, then touches my cheek again. “Do you think you can suffer through dinner, then afterward, I’ll have Silvia put you to bed?” I brighten at that. Thankful. “I think so.” “Come, little one.” She stands, motioning for me to follow. “People are arriving.” She grabs my brand-new white shoes off my dresser, slipping them onto my feet. They pop over my heel, and my thin socks slip against the smooth sole. They