“Not anymore,” the woman sing-songs with a creepy giggle. “The dosage I give always makes a difference, and I’ve found that the omega’s body has to be very tired for it to work. However, it does work.”
“We have a female alpha for you to play with too, Avery,” Madam Clara says with a sly grin.
“Why?” I ask. “What can you do with a female alpha?”
“Have her fucked to death before we bring out the main course, perhaps?” she muses, shrugging. “At the very least, if you care about her, it’ll help me keep you in line. You don’t get a happy ending, Bellamy. You’re too vulnerable and pretty. The only thing you’re worthy of is making me money. You’re well hidden here, so don’t bother with hope. No one will find you.”
“You are pretty,” Avery murmurs, walking around the cage with pursed lips. “Even though I’m not really a fan of men.”
“Eh, he’s kind of androgynous,” Madam Clara says callously. “Would you like to begin your treatment now? We don’t have much time before the auction.”
“My alphas are going to kill you,” I say softly, pursing my lips as I listen to them talk.
I need to feel the way the words taste in my mouth, and I find they still hold weight and truth. I can feel my bond with Abbott too, and it’s full of anger and frustration. As an empath, I feel things fuller than others, which is why I always think about my step-sister first.
Her feelings are bigger than my own at times, and I have to honor them.
If I really concentrate, I can also feel Cassidy, and I feel a wave of protective instinct overwhelm me. I refuse to give up, despite being told to.
As an empath, I can also feel the intentions of those around me.
Madam Clara? Avery? All I can feel from them is cruelty and bitterness. It’s not my fault no one loved them, nor that they feel they need to lash out at others.
I don’t want to be the butt of their jokes or the brunt of their anger, but I will be if it saves Winter and Cassidy from it for as long as possible.
Taking a deep breath, I promise myself that I’ll protect my bonds from being cut for as long as possible, knowing thatwhatever happens to me will also be felt on some level by Winter.
So I watch and wait, paying attention to the way they bicker. They are allies by necessity, not actually because they enjoy each other’s company.
“Fine,” Avery sighs. “Get him out and I’ll play. Let me go get a few things. Shove him in the wet spa.”
Madam Clara smirks as Avery leaves, rolling her eyes.
“I promise you, it’s not nearly as nice as she pretends it is,” she says. “Ebert! Jake! Get your asses over here.”
My muscles are locking up between the effects of the sedative and the cold, so I have no idea what to expect as the men walk into the room. The walls of this odd building are made of steel, and it all reminds me of an underground bunker I once saw in a movie.
“Let me begin by making it clear that no one can hear you if you decide to scream,” Madam Clara says. “Winchell is very upset that his business was burnt down. He’s the owner of The Hug Project, and he believes I owe him money. The man is a shark, but he does have lovely accommodations to help me repay him. No one will find this place, Bellamy.”
I force my hands to not touch my wrists, knowing there’s key information they don’t have. My bracelet to signal for help might be gone, but the tracker under my skin is not. I’m not sure if Jake knows about it or not, however I would rather not take any chances.
It’s my only hope of being found, I just hope being underground won’t affect it. There’s so much I don’t understand about the techy parts of my failsafes. I still have faith. I have to.
Jake’s handed the keys to the cage, and he walks over dispassionately.
“Don’t break the merchandise,” Madam Clara growls. “By the way, Bellamy. Did you know that if you die, your alphas probably will too?”
My heart begins to pound, because everyone knows this. It’s something covered in every fucking designation class in school. It’s why people don’t enter into bonds willy-nilly. Scent matches are a completely different situation though.
They’re not something that happens every fucking day, after all.
“Is that a threat?” I ask. “If you’re going to kill me anyway, I may not fight to live as hard as you want me to.”
I’d swear that Jake’s lips twitch slightly in amusement, but it’s too minute to be sure as he glances at his new boss.
“I don’t have to kill you,” Madam Clara says with a smirk. “It’s not my fault that you’ll wish you were dead.”
“Out you go,” Jake mutters, unlocking the door and opening it wide. “Don’t touch the sides of the cage.”
