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The mask protected her. A muzzle, to keep her from biting people. Or so her sister joked. Often enough their father believed it too even.
Behind all her masks, Riri had no teeth. No fangs anyway. Nothing to pierce through flesh or tear at the meat of someone's throat.
An omega. Riri was an omega, and since the day she'd present, Riri'd kept her mouth shout. Kira did the talking. The intimidating. A true alpha, protecting her, keeping her safe from their father's wrath.
Arkadi Timurov did not have omega children. Even Michael, the secret son he couldn't claim, not without revealing his best hitman spent at least one week a year in his bed.
She didn't know that. Not officially. The three of them, they all pretended not to know. Not to notice the lingering looks and touches. The extra money deposited in Michael's account each month.
They did the same with Riri. Kira could intimidate the administrators and the teachers, but someone else had to hack the medical records.
Wendy Adams didn't exist. Not really. A fictious name for her suppressant prescription and her medical check ups.
Twice a year Kira booked them two weeks at a spa and Wendy spent one of them in a private nesting facility for omegas to suffer through their heats in private.
Riri had no reason to skulk through the house pet passages or read off the morning announcements. She did it anyway though. Kira teased her. Michael shot her odd looks.
But Wendy didn't have to wear a mask, and sometimes, Riri just needed to breathe.