“Enough for two months. That should get me to Trinity with some space for anything that might delay me.”
Selene looks me over. “Let’s go, girl,” she sadly says, nodding to the door.
Her acceptance makes me want to cry and hug her, because it meanseverythingto me. It’s a support I’ve lacked my entire life, and now I have to fucking leave it behind because ofJudge.
I want to properly say the right words to her, to take in this space once more, but then it will make me cry, and Judge will see that. Why would a beta cry approaching him?
This is such a typical alpha; they fuck with the omega’s head. Omegas groom them back in their own ways, like we are destined to do the most depraved dances to ensnare the other. Except I want to getawaybefore one of them bites my scent gland and creates that longed-for tether that’ssupposedto be sacred between an alpha and an omega.
“Let’s go,” I say, unable to stand the silence any longer. It’s as if the absence of sound means she can hear my inner thoughts. “I want to get this over with.”
I feel very alone right now.
DIANA
The walk toconfront Judge is anything but comforting. This place once used to feel so homey, so much like a sanctuary, but now my bubble of pretending I’m a beta feels more fragile than ever. If we ever get an alpha, none of us omegas ever treats them.
Here I am, waltzing on in.
My hand slides into my pocket, where I have a few of the pills lying there. I don’t want to take any of themnowbecause I’ll smell like suppressants. There’s a sweet spot where I don’t smell like chemicals and also don’t smell like an omega, so I usually take them at night for that reason.
But I’m not above popping these in if I need them. I’m sure I’ll come up withsomekind of story.
It’s like walking through a nightmare when, through a window, I spot a few bikes in the front courtyard, Dominion men and women standing at the entrance. When I approach the hall with the Emerald room, itreeksof Dominion. Of leather. They all stand outside the room, with Maggie standing by the door.
She clears her throat and motions to theones who look back at her that they need to leave. Slowly, they all pile out, and I try everything within me to not look at a single one of them.
Maggie steps forward, rolling a tray of medical supplies with her. “Youwill go first,” she says, nodding to Selene. “He said the smaller one will go second. Selene, you will administer the penicillin. Diana, you will tend to his twisted foot and re-bandage his wounds.”
I throw a look at her like she’s personally wounded me. Why the fuck can’tIgive a shot? That’s fast enough for me to get it done in a single breath hold. “It’s his orders,” she clarifies.
“Is he safe to be near? From the blight?” I ask, like it’s one last lifeline. “Like, can it affect us in any way that he was recently in there?”
“You’re safe from it,” Maggie affirms.
I clench my fists so tight because this dick fuck thinks he seriously can control me like this? Make us all bend to him? Selene doesn’t hesitate and rolls in with her gaze low, the door shutting behind her. The windows that onecouldpeer through are covered with blinds.
Breathing rapidly, I completely zone out, unaware of the world around me as I clench my jaw. I shudder with a slight gasp when the door opens, darting my gaze around in a panic. Selene’s chest rises and falls like she just got confirmation that her patient lived. “Okay, done. Trolley is in there.” She places her hand on my shoulder. “I love you, Diana.”
“Love you, too,” I say, the words choking me. I haven’t said that to someone in a very long time, and yet it comes out easily this time.
Selene leans into me. “There’s a benz injection at the bottom of the trolley.”
That helps me focus, clinging desperately to that out. Opening the door, the room reeks of alpha. I mean, juststainedwith him. His head is back on the bed like he’s fuckingcomfortable. The first thing I examine is that he does actually seem chained to the bed with his left hand, while the right one is free.
That doesn’t count! He can grab me with that!
The door shuts behind me, and we both make eye contact.
His face is as I expected—rugged and weather-worn. A deep scar splits his brow, and his jaw is dusted with uneven stubble. But his eyes are the worst part, as they are a cold, pale gray. Abnormal color.
He doesn’t leer or smile. He just watches me likeI’mthe one chained to the wall. Judge rotates one arm slightly, testing the chain’s slack. No grunting or screaming like most do when they realize they’ve been bound.
And that’s the part that gets me. Thestillness.
Of the man who terrifies so many without lifting a finger. The kind of alpha who rewrites a city just by breathing in its air.
I glance at his form. That twisted ankle is wrapped, and the gash across his stomach is deep enough that thick bruising surrounds it—probably infected with how it’s raised, red and swollen. His shoulder’s torn up like he got dragged through shrapnel, and there’s a hematoma rising behind his ear. A concussion, for sure. And even then, the way he rests there doesn’t feel like a man who has been broken.
