The guards stop in front of a closed door. This area feels different from the one I stayed in last time. Instead of bars, walls and doors with small windows line up in rows on two levels, overlooking an area a bit like our lounge. Stairs lead up anddown, but these are solid metal and cold, not like the shining wooden ones at home. The couches on the lower floor stand just as bare, flat tables with fixed stool tops. No cushions, rugs, or moving screens in sight. Cold, gray, ohm-ee-ga-less.
“Here we are, room number twenty.” The guard hammers on the door. “Got your new cellmate, Alhedy.” He swings the door forward and shoves me inside.
The plain white room measures about the same as Mine’s bedroom, but this bed has been cut in half and stacked on top of itself. A man slings himself off the lower bed as we enter, straightening to a height even taller than me. His familiar scent hits my nose. Alpha. Hairless on top. Familiar.
An automatic challenge rumbles through my throat, and his eyes widen at the same moment as I remember who he is. What is he doing here?
“The feral fence climber?” he mutters, alpha scent rising. “Fuck me sideways.” He straightens, lips peeling back to show teeth.
“Have fun, boys,” the guard says before slamming the door shut behind us, locking me in a small room with the alpha who broke my arm.
Chapter five
Rickon
What am I supposed to do? No one wrote a handbook for when your pack alpha gets arrested, your omega turns into a ghost, and your brand-new bond feels like it’s going nuclear. While the news blows up with reports of an alleged attack on an emerging actress, the person in question sits on the couch and stares at the wall, hugging anything Zack ever touched.
So forlorn, like her entire world fell apart.
I’m scared enough to want to call the Omega Center, but I know how much Red hates that place.
My phone vibrates, and I slide out from beside Red to answer it, instinctively turning away to shield her from the noise. Director Yun speaks before I can greet him. “Rickon, what the heck’s going on? How’s Red?”
A heavy sigh escapes me. “Hi, Mr Yun. Not a lot I can tell you, unfortunately. We don’t know exactly what happened.” I glance over my shoulder at the inert omega. “Red has a few scratches, but other than that, she’s . . . in shock.”
“Shit. I bet.” He pauses, and I know what he wants before he forces the words out. “I hate to even ask, but we don’t have many scenes we can shoot without her, and I was planning to do those during her heat next week. Tomorrow we have the big race scene with all the extras booked.”
Bloody hell, her heat. I press my fingertips to my burning forehead. All my hopes for Red overcoming her nesting trauma, cradled in Zack’s and my arms, goes up in smoke. She will battle not only her own pheromone chokehold, but Zack’s barely suppressed fury as well.
“Rickon?” the worried director coaxes.
“Yeah, um.” I turn to look at my broken omega, clenching my free hand.
Red swivels her head until her dead eyes meet my gaze. “I’ll be in tomorrow,” she whispers.
My heart jolts, equal parts pain and shock. “Red, you need to take some time—”
She shakes her head with no real energy. “Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow, as usual.”
This isn’t her. Some other version of Red has my omega in a chokehold, stealing away her vitality. I open my mouth to argue, but it hits me that this might be the only way Red can survive separation from her wild alpha. Acting has been her lifeline through every tragedy to date.
I clear my throat, fighting tears. “We’ll be in tomorrow,” I repeat. As soon as I’ve said it, the omega turns her back, tucking stiffly into the corner of the couch and pressing her face into a cushion.
Our boss rumbles a few words, somewhere between apology and gratitude, and then hangs up.
Cold tears streak my cheeks as I return to Red, pulling her into my chest and purring. Her rigid body thaws enough for her head to fall onto my shoulder. Despite the lack of emotion on her face,the bond says she’s screaming and sobbing inside. So I uphold our deal and cry for her, my tears falling into her glossy hair.
If only I could take away her pain.
I don’t berate myself, wondering how I could’ve stopped Zack from flipping out. It was always a possibility from the moment Red refused to put him in a cage, and we can’t turn back time. All I can do is try to hold the shattered pieces together.
We sit, leaning into each other for a long time, two halves of a broken oyster missing our pearl. Feels like a lifetime ago when it was just me and Red against the world. Zack’s presence spread into every corner of our lives.
I wipe my nose on my sleeve and drag the blanket from the end of the couch to wrap around Red. The fabric carries Zack’s pungent scent, and she holds it under her nose while I tuck the edges around her lap. He used to lie here, watching kids’ cartoons.
A soft whimper escapes Red, and she clenches over her midsection. “It’s all my fault.”
Her pain hurts more than anything I’ve experienced before. “It’s not your fault, Red,” I say sternly, tightening my hold across her shoulders. “We don’t know exactly what happened, but this was an attack. You have scratches on your legs to prove that.”
