I debated not putting the helmet back on. I debated taking my chances. What was the worst my body would do? Fall apart? That wouldn’t be a new experience.
But then my gaze landed on the indicator light, still red.
I hadn’t fought so hard to live, just to let five assholes break me down.
Slipping the helmet over my head, I clicked it into place, then took a deep, affirming breath.
They hated me. Fine. I’ll get through this probationary period and they can find another Omega.
35
XANDER
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the monitors. Our small security room with its ten small screens—five cycling through areas of the compound outside, five offering scenes from inside these walls—was too warm right now. I pulled at my collar, feeling a strange tightness despite the loose fit.
Three hours since we'd dumped her in that hellhole of a room, and not a single tear.
Not one goddamn complaint.
Just eerie stillness.
I hated that the helmet was back in place, and I wasn’t sure why. Who cared if her silvery hair and delicate features were hidden from view? Certainly not me. I wanted this bitch gone.
Not for the first time, I scrolled back through the feed and saw the moment when the helmet slipped over her head, concealing her face. She’d lifted her hands after, placing both palms flat against her chest. Her shoulders had risen and fallen, risen and fallen, as she breathed. Something twisted in my gut as I considered whether removing it had caused her pain. Then I fast forwarded, still waiting for the moment she broke. I wanted her anger. Her sadness. Her fear. She gave me nothing, just likethe first three times I’d watched. There was zero indication that our morbid, crude display affected her.
I hunched forward. My eyes were beginning to hurt from watching. Surely, she’d come back to life soon. She’d freak out. She’d pound on the bedroom door, desperate to leave. Fuck, she could at least ask for a damn sheet or a blanket. Instead, she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the nasty mattress.
Lucy, delicate and small, looked tiny on the king size even in the bulky suit. A brief, sharp pang hit my heart. I hit my chest with a fist, slamming back the unwanted feeling.
My right leg bobbed up and down nervously as I widened my eyes, trying to fight the ache in them. It was like a strange as game of who can blink first, only my opponent never tired.
She moved, stretching her legs out. Her gloved hands rubbed her thighs, maybe rubbing away stiffness. Then she went still again.Move!I mentally shouted.Get up and fucking do something!
But she did nothing.
As if the life had bled out of her.
Maybe this was her brokenness. Maybe this was her defeat. Maybe she’d already fractured to the point of no return.
I leaned back in the chair, letting the worn leather creak beneath me. Closing my eyes against the view which had become painful—both physically and mentally—I took a deep breath. In the dark of my mind, Lucy’s stillness was a new scar that wouldn’t fade.
What the fuck was wrong with me? I didn’t care about her. I didn’t want to care. She was a necessary evil. We had to get through her to gain a chance at a better match. So why did I suddenly feel worse than ever?
For a moment, I wished Asher hadn’t polluted the house air with gasoline fumes. Those few moments Lucy had the helmet off, I could smell her. The faintest perfume of Omega pushingthrough the pungent air. There was a medicinal taint, but below that something pure. Cotton clothes air dried outside. The way the world smells right before Summer rain. Strawberries. Lemonade. She smelled like brightness, despite the fuel stench.
Sitting up quickly, eyes flashing open, I refocused on the monitor live streaming the barren bedroom. I cursed softly under my breath, because she was still motionless.
The heavy door behind me creaked open, drawing my gaze away from the screens. I half turned in the wheels chair, finding my pack brothers tricking in one by one. The already stifling room felt heavier as it grew more crowded.
“Falling apart yet?” Asher swaggered over to me with a grin, leaning down to my right to peer at the screens. His brows furrowed, the playful glint gone as he realized Lucy had moved very little since the last time we all were in this room several hours ago.
“What the hell is she doing?” he asked, tilting his head toward the screen.
“Being a fucking statue, apparently,” I muttered, leaning back in my chair, arms crossed over my chest. “I didn’t know if we’d break her from the start, but I sure as fuck thought we’d make an impression.”
“Look at that,” Nitro laughed darkly, also moving close enough to see Lucy in detail. “just sitting there like a scared little bird. Isn’t she precious?”
I hated that she was so quiet. It was worse, far fucking worse, than screaming.
