Ignoring Devlin’s gaze burning into my back, I take another step, testing. His breathing speeds up, and I dare to move closer still until I’m plastered up against him. Leaning in slowly, his eyes stare into mine until they blur out of focus. Inhaling his scent, I gently rub his cheek with my nose.
Gabe’s low moan takes us both by surprise. He stiffens, cheeks flushing as he tries to turn away, but I pull him into me. This situation needs to be resolved. It’s not good for either of us.
“Don’t run from me,” I plead, savoring the arousal and need on his face. “I’ve missed this, Gabe.” I punctuate my words with a short thrust, both of us groaning at the sensation, my dick swelling uncomfortably behind my zip. I stare into his familiar face. “I’ve missedus.”
“I…I…” Gabe pulls back, running shaky hands over his hair. “I can’t, Ace. We can’t. Harper is here now, and things are different—”
“Bullshit,” I snap, a hint of a bark in my tone. His shoulders square and a low growl slips out, reminding us both that whilst it’s nowhere near as prevalent as the rest of us, Gabe is still an alpha. I feel the second we lose the moment, and it’s my fault.
“Don’t pull that shit with me,” he hisses, jabbing a finger into my chest. “I might bend over when it suits me, but I’m still an alpha too.”
Hurt whips through me at the crudeness of his words and I pull my hand back. “Iknowyou are,” I whisper.But it doesn’t stop me wanting you.
Gabe looks stricken. Maybe he’s right. Doubt trickles into me as I think back on the times we’ve been together. It’s always been Gabe submitting to me – never the other way around. I try to consider the alternative and a wave of uncontrolled anger comes over me at the thought, fists clenching.
I stare into his face, his brown eyes more familiar to me than my own. If that’s what he wants, then he’s right. We can’t. I’ll never be able to be that for him.
I turn my back on him, and head down to the basement. Maybe a workout will clear my head.
Hitting the weights, I try to find the positives.
We’re all here. Our pack is still together even though there’ve been times when we’ve all doubted it will last. Harper is perfect for us, and she’s already bringing us closer together. I make a note to myself to call my Pa and update him. He’ll be delighted that we have an omega.
My lips twitch up into a reluctant smile remembering her pancake toss. Her golden eyes had lit up, the smile seeming to start with her mouth and slowly growing until I could have sworn she’d glowed with happiness.
Anger fills me as I remember Rogue telling us about what the guard said.Jason. My lip curls.I’ll be seeing you one day, I silently promise. Harper deserves retribution for the shit he’s done to her.
I mean – fucking water torture. My breath hitches at the thought, dread filling me. I’ve seen grown alphas tested like that during our training. They were screaming for their mamas after an hour. One of them lasted two hours before he experienced a full-on psychotic break and got pulled from the program altogether. None of us heard from him after that.
I can’t believe they’re pulling that sort of shit at the Omega Compound. People wouldn’t support that kind of training if they knew. But then society has always been good at turning a blind eye for the common good, haven’t they? And it’s not exactly widely known. None of us even knew it was happening and Christian is Rogue’s father, for fuck’s sake.
Nobody truly has the faintest idea what goes on behind those metal walls, I realize.Betas stay far away from anything to do with alpha and omega politics unless it’s the omega surrogacy program. They mock us and think we don’t see it.No more than animals, they whisper behind their hands.Beasts.And that’s just how they talk about alphas.
Omegas…. I blow out a breath. Omegas don’t get talked about at all, and if they do then it’s not in a good way. Betas believe that omegas are responsible for beta women not being able to carry children. All seems like a crock of voodoo bullshit if you ask me. But the consequence is that most betas are completely content with the aims of the Omega Compound, and the creed. A fitting response to a heinous crime, even if it’s a blanket approach to a whole race.
And the alpha packs are almost as blind. Most toe the line and do exactly as they’re told in the hope of being gifted an omega long-term. Even those who don’t get the privilege keep their noses clean or they’ll get banned from the heat nests.
If all omegas are like Harper, they should be fucking cherished. Not tortured. What’s the fucking point?
They don’t need a functioning mind to get pregnant, my subconscious offers. I slam the treadmill to a stop, swallowing down vomit. Just the thought is repugnant.
If half of what that asshole guard said is actually true, then our little omega is much stronger than any of us have really given her credit for. She hasn’t spoken to us about what she went through, not since we built the fire. Then last night, Devlin said she had a nightmare. Concern fills me. I don’t want her to hide her worries from us.
What if she tries to leave us?My heart seizes at the thought. What if sheruns away, takes her chances on her own? I’m reminded of the collar, but the thought has hold of me and it won’t let go. She’s damned resourceful. Maybe she could get rid of it if she tried hard enough.
Devastation fills me at the idea of waking up one morning and Harper being gone. I need to speak to her. The urge to know exactly what’s happened to her is beating through me like a drum, my hackles raising along with my scent. My instincts are overwhelming, fear and longing mixing into a dangerous potion and I roar, turning and hitting the mirror. It cracks, the long shards falling at my feet with a shatter as I catch glimpses of dozens of different versions of myself in the wreckage.
I need to know what demons she’s facing.
So I can slay them myself.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Harper
Istep into the library, breathing in the scent of paper and ink. I used to love reading, although I haven’t touched a book in years. My mom used to find me hidden away in corners, my nose forever buried in pages. Sometimes my father would tease me, joking that I should go out and get some fresh air, play with the other kids on our street. Mom would laugh and pull me close.
“You’re a dreamer, Harper,” she’d say, poking my nose gently. “You don’t read because you don’t have a life. You read because you choose to have many. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
