Keep Moving Forward
Sandra
My body shakes as I lie between the two giant men, their hands resting protectively on my hip as they snore over me. It’s been three weeks of this hell, and I’m ready to jump off a bridge. My neck throbs. They marked me nearly two weeks ago during a rutting frenzy, even though I begged them not to. The marks haven’t healed because my body knows I don’t want them to be my Alphas.
If they don’t kill me during the ruts they work themselves into, the marks on my neck eventually will.
I close my eyes as hot tears spill down my cheeks. My father got me into this mess with his horse racing bets. He didn’t have enough to pay Sergio, and to keep them from breaking his legs, he offered me up, his only Omega daughter.
Sergio had no use for me, already having found his pack’s fated mate. So he handed me off to his second and third-in-command. They’re two idiots who don’t care whether we’re compatible. All they care about is having a toy that can take their knots.
In another month or two, when they get bored with me, who knows what will happen. I’ll either be passed around until I die, or they’ll kill me. I’ve heard of that happening before. I just never thought I’d be one of the Omegas trapped in that kind of nightmare.
My mother left my father years ago for this exact reason, and still, he dragged me into his schemes. I was just minding my own business, working for the Omega Safe Haven, when they snatched me up on my way to my car.
It was the one night I didn’t have Jared, our security guard, walk me out. Nothing ever happens at the Pueblo location, and I thought it would be fine. It’s not like the one in Denver, which had to add bars to the windows and extra security to keep the Omegas safe—both those staying for their heats and those working there.
Nero shifts in his sleep and lets go of me. As he rolls over, Emilio does the same, right on cue. They do this every day, but it’s taken me a while to figure out their routine. I have about an hour to sneak away before they wake up. It’s not much time, but if I can find a car, I might be able to escape. Since they work nights, I need to be gone before the sun sets.
Moving slowly but with as much speed as I can manage, I wiggle toward the end of the bed. I’m careful not to wake them as I lower one leg off the mattress, then the other. The bed is high off the floor, and I have to let myself fall. I land quietly on my feet.
My legs protest under my weight. Every inch of my body hurts, but I push the pain to the back of my mind. When I glance over my shoulder, they’re still snoring. I inch toward the door. This is the part where I could die. The door creaks, and on top of that, there are Betas in the house. They can’t smell me, but if any of them are awake, they will kill me. That’s a guarantee.
The window in the room isn’t an option. There are bars on the outside. I’m small, but not that small. Holding my breath, I reach for the knob and slowly turn it.
Emilio’s snore stutters, and I freeze in place.
I fight the instinct to look, but I can’t help myself. I need to know if he’s waking up, or choking in his sleep. I can only hope for the latter, but the universe hasn’t shown me any mercy so far.
When he doesn’t shout that I’m gone, I ease the door open. I keep it just wide enough to slip through, doing my best to avoid a squeak from the hinges.
As I barely make it through the gap, I let out a slow breath when it stays quiet. The dark hallway greets me. It’s the same one they’ve taken me down to let me use the toilet. It’s a miracle they haven’t chained me to the bed or locked the door. I think they foolishly believed they’d wake the moment I moved.
When they leave me for jobs, they post one of their Beta men at the door. He’s too scared of them to touch me, let alone let me convince him to help me escape. I make it to the landing of the stairs. I just need to get down them and reach the front door. I haven’t been to that part of the house since they first dragged me in, so I have no idea what to expect.
But I can’t stay here. I’m at the point where it’s either make a run for it or die trying. Either way, I’ll be free in the end. Once I’m out, I’ll run and won’t stop until I reach safety. Walking on the tips of my toes, I place as little weight as possible on each step before moving. It almost feels like I’m walking on air.
Snoring rises from the first floor, and when I glance to my left, I see several men sprawled out on cots in the living room area. Guns are strapped to their sides. I swallow hard and go back to holding my breath as I creep toward the front door.
There are several locks in place. Why so many? The deadbolt alone is going to make noise.
My heart pounds against my ribs.
I do the chains first, careful not to let them fall as I place them down. All the while, I keep my eyes on the men and my ears trained upstairs.
Last are the two deadbolts. The first one looks newer, still shiny under the streetlights beaming through the windows on either side of the front door. It turns with ease and clicks almost silently.
I want to let out a sigh, but there’s no time to celebrate. I need to get the final boss: the rusted deadbolt that looks like it will betray me for a can of WD-40. I imagine it will either be hard to turn or make the worst noise in the world, which could fuck me over in two seconds flat. I’ll probably be killed. At least, I can hope that’s their punishment if they catch me for this.
It’s my life either way, to live or to die, and for the first time, I’m facing the choice. I need to be okay with death.
The cold metal meets my fingertips, and I turn it as fast as I can. A sharp squeak comes from it, but it’s over in a millisecond. I tense and freeze when I know I should move, waiting for someone to wake.
When no sound follows, trying to get my hand to move to the knob feels like wading through sludge. I’m terrified it was a fluke and I won’t actually get away. But something in the universe must want me out of this place. Either that, or all of them are too intoxicated to notice anything. I guess I should be thankful that no one here is sober.
My brain and hand finally connect, overriding my freeze response. I yank open the door and sprint barefoot out of the house. I leap over the rotting porch steps and land on the cracked concrete path of a rundown neighborhood.
All the houses around me look like they haven’t seen human life in over a decade. Boarded-up windows, grass as tall as I am, and broken-down cars resting on bricks make up the view. There’s nothing I can use to get away. And if anyone is livinginside these places, I doubt they’re the kind who’d help. They’re probably loyal to Sergio and the drugs he provides.
