The patrol officer hauls Roman upward by his arm and leads him toward the elevator. Roman flinches as the officer shoves him forward, his calm mas slipping. The metal doors slide shut, but Roman's words hang in the air. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat.
The EMT reaches for a pair of trauma shears to cut through the fabric of the security uniform. Sawyer blocks the guy's hand. He grips the hem of his ruined shirt and yanks it over his head in one fluid, but violent motion. He tosses the bloody cloth onto the floor without a second thought.
The light from the kitchen pendants hit Sawyer's bare torso. I look away at first, but my gaze catches on his side. My heart stops in my chest. A dark tattoo sits on the side of his ribs, the ink sharp against his pale skin. A skull and crossbones, but the eye sockets of the skull lack the usual hollow darkness. Small red hearts fill the space instead.
The room spins as I recognize that specific ink. I’ve stared at it on a high-definition screen during every Saturday RAA session.My heart hammers with a sound that drowns out the noise of the emergency teams.
I retreat to the sofa and pull a gray wool blanket over my shoulders. A cold sweat breaks out all over while my hands shake. Urie follows me and opens his medical bag on the coffee table. He reaches for my wrist to check my pulse, but I pull away from his touch.
Across the room, the EMT leans closer to Sawyer and tightens a pressure bandage over the wound. "You need a hospital, sir. This gash looks deep, and we need to get you stitches."
Sawyer growls, his gaze staying fixed on me. "Just patch it. I refuse to leave her side tonight."
The EMT sighs and pulls a notebook from his pocket to document the scene. "I can't force you to go, but I need your legal name for my report on the refusal of care."
Sawyer glances at me. "Dameon Wolph"
The name hits me as I connect the chief of security to the man from my Saturday sessions and the boy I played pirates with in the Cross-Sterling home's yard. I look toward Reid by the balcony and then shift my gaze to Urie and Ethan. If Sawyer is in the role of Saturday, then these other men must be the remaining Sunday, Tuesday, and Friday. I lack the information to know which man belongs to which profile, but the reality of the situation remains clear. The Alphas from the site stand right here in my living room when they're suppose to be safe Betas.
I watch Reid and Dameon talking to the sergeant. They speak in low tones, but the silence of the room carries their words to my ears.
"We have the unit under surveillance," Reid says, his voice flat and professional. "The cameras caught the entire breach. The footage provides enough evidence for the attempted murder charge."
The words settle in my gut like lead. I look at the ceiling and scan the smoke detectors and the light fixtures. They watched me every day I’ve been here. They’ve probably watched me masturbate to the sessions I’ve had with them.
They lied about everything from the very beginning.
Anger flares in my chest. I want to scream at them and throw the blanket at their faces, and run out of this building. They built a cage and called it a nest. They watched me like a lab rat.
But as the police leave and the room grows quiet, a different sensation pulls at my lower belly. A warmth coils in my core. The stress, the trauma, and the Alphas I now realize are all around me hit my system all at once.
Shit, it triggered my heat to start early.
The scent of the room changes, replaced by something sweet. My scentfills the air; I’m perfuming, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
My inner Omega doesn't care about the lies or the betrayal. It doesn't care about the hidden cameras. It only needs the four Alphas in the room. It wants the protection and the knots they can offer. I look at Sawyer—no, Dameon—as he turns toward me, his nostrils flaring as he catches the change in the air.
Fuck, I want them. I want them so bad it hurts. Logic and desire tug at my brain. God, I don’t want to go through yet another heat without an Alpha. I’m a knot-virgin, and I want to give my body what it wants once. They’ve been lying and using me, why shouldn’t I use them back and then get the hell out of here?
Theelevatordoorsslideshut with a ding that signals the departure of the police. Leaving the penthouse in a state of ringing, uncomfortable silence. I still sit on the edge of the gray sofa, my fingers digging into the fabric. I don't look up at the four men standing in the center of my home.
My body betrays my rage. My heat hits me hard as my thoughts slow down, moving like sludge through a haze of desire that builds in my lower belly. My scent fills the space with a sweetness that sticks to the back of my throat. It is the smell of an Omega ready to be claimed, and it makes my skin crawl because the only Alphas in the room are the ones who have been lying to me since the day I moved in. It has only been two weeks since I stepped into this building, but the betrayal feels like it spans a lifetime.
Urie moves first, breaking the stillness that threatens to crush us all. He carries his medical bag with a practiced, steady grip as he stops a few feet away. His blue eyes scan my face for signs of shock or distress. He looks like he wants to offer comfort, but he has no right to touch me after the secrets he kept.
Reid looks at the others, his nostrils flaring as he catches the first real wave of my perfuming. The Alpha in him reacts to the change in the atmosphere, his pupils dilating until the blue in his eyes is almost gone. He looks at Dameon, then at Ethan, before turning his focus back toward the foyer. His face strains as he keeps his distance from the sofa. "Your heat is starting. I know this is a lot, but we should leave before something happens. We don't want you to be swayed by your heat."
I scoff at him, the sound loud in the quiet room. The nerve of this guy to tell me how my body works after these two weeks of watching me on a screen makes a fresh wave of anger boil up in my chest. He stands there acting as if he still holds the right to dictate my movements or decide what I can handle. He thinks he can protect me from my body while he hides behind a professional mask.
I'm fuming at the way he wants to take away my autonomy. He treats me like a problem to solve, or a child to protect, instead of a woman with her own fucking mind. He thinks the heat makes me incompetent, a variable he needs to control before it breaks his logic.
He makes a move toward the elevator, his intention clear to everyone in the room. He wants to retreat instead of facing the woman he deceived. Dameon shifts his weight near the kitchen counter, his bare chest glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. Ethan stays by the far wall, his hands fisted at his sides. They all look ready to follow the manager’s lead and abandon me after spending these weeks watching me in secret. They think they can turn off the live feed and walk away from the mess they created together.
"Don’t you dare try to fucking leave." The command leaves my mouth before I can stop it, vibrating with an authority that stops Reid in his tracks. I look up, my eyes scanning each of them in the dim light. He freezes with his hand halfway to the button.Urie stays near the coffee table. Ethan and Dameon lock their gazes on me, their expressions a mix of surprise and worry.
My clit aches with need as a flood of warmth fills my underwear. Whatever they’ve been doing to hide their true designations is slipping, and my inner Omega can tell what they are.
"You don't get to leave. You don't get to walk out of here and pretend you were just doing your jobs." I stand, the blanket heavy, and I drop it, leaving me in my set of pink pajamas. I walk toward them, my gaze moving from one face to the next. I can see the guilt in the set of Reid's mouth and the worry in Urie's eyes. But I know that once they walk out that door, my brain will lose them. I know that in an hour, their faces will be gone from my memory, replaced by a mess of jigsaw pieces that never move together to form the whole picture.
