Al laughs drily. “And how do you plan to stop it when you won’t fight back?”
I grit my teeth and stare at the ceiling, which thankfully isn’t dancing anymore. Pressure squeezes behind my eyes, forming an ache, and my wrist throbs. I just need to wait for Cal-ee. Then I’ll understand what has Al so upset.
It can’t be that bad, can it?
Chapter nineteen
Red
Whatever drugs the Omega Center put me on after my collapse, they have me high as a kite. It’s kinda similar to when another version of Red takes over, in that I feel distant from my true self and unable to make decisions. As for what got me into this state, I remember opening the car door and throwing my phone, but that’s about it.
I’m so far gone, I don’t even scream when I finally recall the chilling message from Ray.
That bastard dug sharpened hooks into me, and every time he tugs, I rip a little more. Will I ever be free of Ray’s cruelty? I tuck my feet up under me on the window seat, staring out at the misty rain, thinking of everything and nothing.
“Red?” Rickon whispers, touching my shoulder.
I turn toward his voice. His scent fills my nose, but I can’t see him. Even though his fingers press into my shoulder, it’s like he isn’t standing in front of me. I’m not a ghost, but I’ve crossed into some other realm where I can’t respond.
“Bloody hell, Red,” Rickon says, sounding broken.
He sets something down on a side table, and then maneuvers me until I’m sitting in his lap. The first vibration of his purr on my back makes my breath catch. A brittle strand connects my realities, anchoring me to my alpha’s world. This fragile human charger powers my batteries enough for me to whimper.
“Rickon?” I murmur, leaning into him.
“I’m here, Biscuit. Fuck, I’m so worried about you.”
His concern thrums through the bond, but the cotton-cloud prison deflects it away. Rickon picks up a mug, wrapping both my hands around it and helping to lift it to my mouth. Peppermint.
“Drink, baby. If you get dehydrated, they’ll need to put you back on the IV.”
The warm tea coats my tongue, clearing a little of the fog. After swallowing, I ask, “Where’s Zack?” My callous tone betrays me, sounding disinterested, like I couldn’t care.
Callisto answers, his sultry voice coming from the other side of the room. “He just got out of solitary confinement. I have an appointment to see him first thing in the morning.”
“Oh.” I turn back to the window. My alpha’s alive, but my heart doesn’t even jump for joy. Deadened.
I think I’d prefer to scream ferociously. At least that would communicate what’s inside. Or maybe I truly no longer care, and Ray can claim his victory for breaking me completely. How do you know if your soul died while your body still lives?
Callisto crouches beside me, his hazy form taking a moment to make sense. “Stay with us, Red. I promise you’ll see your alpha soon.”
“Sure,” I mumble.
The two guys exchange glances over my head, but I can’t make myself care. I’m as lifeless as the water droplets sliding down the glass panes in chaotic patterns.
“What’s the news about her phone?” Rickon whispers.
The reflection shows Callisto rising and moving to the bench seat beside us, running a hand roughly through his black hair. “The tech team got the message off the card, and it isn’t pretty. He’s demanding we drop the charges. I got a replacement phone with a new number for her this morning so it doesn’t happen again.”
Although I’m watching the rain, I can’t help studying the lawyer’s transparent face in the glass. His usually trimmed beard has grown out an inch, and dark marks shadow his eyes. The familiar uncertainty that plagues me in his presence isn’t here now, but I don’t know if that’s the drugs stripping my emotions or something else—something our friendship has overcome.
Whatever weirdness happened between him and Rickon doesn’t seem to exist in this space either, but even that can’t give me peace.
I stare mindlessly for too long, and Callisto catches my reflected gaze. “Red?” he murmurs, pain in his voice.
I set my mug on the windowsill and hold my arms out in silent request.
His gaze softens, and he scoops me up, settling me onto his lap. “I’m not as good as Rickon at the purring,” he says. “But I’ll try.” He leans his cheek on my head, and a vibration shivers through his shirt, right into my chest.
