Chapter 16
“That’s fine with me,” Creed says immediately, then turns to look at me.
I fucking hate this. Having Ridley up my ass about accepting my connection to Bea was annoying enough; now I have to deal with him, too. They will not accept my reasons, no matter how valid they may be.
But I also know I can’t walk away from Bea again. Feeling her pain, knowing she was hurting and alone, that I wasn’t there, it’s wrecked me. Battered the wall I built between us until it’s one hit away from crumbling.
“I understand.”
Porter nods, side-eyeing me as he slides a folder onto the coffee table between us.
“Bea is being… difficult,” Donovan admits. There is a fondness in his eyes that tells of the closeness between them. With her family working for the DAU, she’s been raised in the organization. I know the older Alpha views her as somewhat of a granddaughter. A view she shares.
“She’s refusing to allow her doctors to explain the depth of her injuries.
Instead, she asked her mother to bear that weight.
Shelby has spoken with the staff and is ready to convey everything to Bea when she is ready.
Until then, as her Alphas, we feel it is imperative that you know what happened.
There are serious risks involved, and consequences we won’t know until after her body has healed. ”
Frowning, I glance at Creed, who appears just as divided as I am. “Has Bea given her consent for us to know?”
“Shelby convinced Bea to allow us to share the records with her mates.”
“You didn’t specify which of us you would speak to?”
Donovan shakes his head, glaring at me. “We both know who she would have chosen, and he wouldn’t be able to keep it from her.”
Ridley is who she would have chosen, and Donovan is right.
My partner is terrible at keeping secrets from the people he loves.
The closest he gets is downplaying injuries when he’s speaking to his mom.
He would get too emotional and accidentally reveal everything to Bea, even if she wasn’t ready to hear it.
“Fine.”
Creed rolls his eyes, but sobers when Porter opens the folder.
The doctors in charge of Bea’s care have carefully documented her injuries. From the bruises she received to the torn ligament in her ankle, and the blood loss from a botched IUD removal.
The photos of the surgical wounds where her scent glands were stolen make me nauseous. If the pain I felt through our connection was even half of what she experienced, it had to have been the most excruciating injury she’s ever had.
Porter pauses, tapping a picture of one of the stitched sites.
“These injuries are relatively easy to care for. They are the ones she herself will instinctively know to watch. Rest and keeping the wounds clean will eliminate any further complications.” When we both nod, he continues.
“Now, I need you both to brace yourselves.”
I stare at the image he reveals, my heart beating loudly in my ears. Another incision site. One that is clearly not her scent gland, since we’ve already seen those.
Porter continues his explanation. “During their examination, the doctors discovered a tracking device embedded in the upper crease of Miss Powell’s left thigh.”
“The thing is,” Donovan cuts in, “of all the Omegas we rescued from the breeding camp, only Bea was tagged with one.”
Fury has my hands clenching into fists on the tabletop. Nails digging into my palms to stop myself from destroying something.
“You believe they were targeting her specifically? Before being brought into the camp?” Creed asks.
I don’t have to ask. We knew this was a possibility when Harrison escaped from the raid on the Montgomery cult in New Hampshire. His work unraveled when Bea’s best friend Omen confronted her father and broadcast the truth about the doctor’s experiments on national television.
“He couldn’t find Omen, so he went after her best friend.”
Donovan nods, sadness filling his eyes. “That is what we expect, yes.”
Creed runs a hand over the facial hair he has grown in over the past several weeks, looking contemplative.
“I guess I’m a bit confused. If Harrison tagged Bea with a tracker, that means he was planning to release her from the breeding camp.
So either Marcus was disregarding orders when he brought her to me, or Harrison’s plan wasn’t one he shared with the Eternal members working there. ”
“Or he knew the breeding ring was going to be raided and used the opportunity to have the Eternals grab Bea. With Rebecca Montgomery still unaccounted for, we believe she and Harrison were planning to use Bea to get to Omen and her sister, Hannah.”
“So, what do we need to watch for?”
We’re both attentive as Porter explains everything to us, soaking in every detail of the care and caution our Omega will need as she recovers.
Aside from increasing security around her, the first step will be to get Bea into therapy.
Recovering from this trauma is not a journey she needs to navigate alone, and knowing my girl, she won’t want to share the gritty details with us until she’s had time to process them herself.
Leaning my head back, I let my eyes fall closed. If she has to go to therapy, I guess now is a good time for me to face my trauma, too.
After Porter and Donovan clear us to leave, I trail Creed back to the hospital. He looks at me expectantly as he steps into her room, but I shake my head. I can’t handle going in there right now. Instead, I will stand out here and keep watch.
No one will get close enough to hurt my Omega with me guarding her.
A few hours later, Bea’s best friend, and my former charge, Omen, arrives. She and Pack Graves had messaged us ahead of time, planning things so they could sneak into the hospital without being seen by the reporters stationed outside.
While her mates wear masks on stage to keep their identities anonymous, Omen herself is recognizable throughout the country. The televised showdown between her and her father, leader of the recently dismantled New Hampshire anti-designation cult, brought a notoriety she loathes.
“Lex!” A smile lights up her face when she sees me.
I take a moment to look her over, grateful to see how much she has healed over the past several months.
When her mates had rejected her, I had to watch her wither, slowly becoming a shell of herself as her Omega faded.
My lips twitch as she stops before me, looking happier than I have ever seen her.
“If it isn’t our second favorite DAU bodyguard!” Nexus jokes, one arm wrapped around Omen’s shoulder. She elbows him and shakes her head. I narrow a glare his way, and he raises both hands in surrender.
“How is she?” Omen asks.
“Stubborn.” I shrug one shoulder. “Just like a certain Omega I know.”
Omen scowls, lips thinning as I remind her of the hell she put us through when she refused to take care of herself after the rejection.
Eventually, she was forced into Pack Graves’ care by Donovan.
Her role in the designation protection program gave him the leeway to move her into their home when her apartment was nearly broken into.
“Is the doctor in with her, or?”
“Just her mates.”
Omen’s scowl deepens. She exchanges a look I can’t decipher with her pack leader, Nebula. He quickly ushers the others into the room and leaves her to stand with me.
“You are her mate, too, Lex,” she says, moving to lean against the wall beside me.
Grunting, I don’t voice my response. We both know there is no point in denying my connection to Bea, not after all the moments Omen got to witness.
“And we’re the stubborn ones,” she sighs.
“I don’t know what your reasons for holding back are, so I’m going to tell you what you once told me.
There are no guarantees in this life, Lex.
Bea is a grown-ass woman. She can decide for herself if pursuing your Fated connection is worth it.
But you have to be honest with her first.”
She pushes off the wall and pats me on the arm. “Don’t let fear rule your life. One day, you might regret it. I know I did.” Walking around me, she pauses with her hand on the door to Bea’s room. “And Lex? Thank you for saving her.”
“I always will,” I respond beneath my breath. Words Omen doesn’t hear because she has already slipped inside.
Leaning my head back, I let my eyes slip closed and imagine telling Bea everything. I already know what her decision will be. She wouldn’t push me away because of my trauma. No, my girl would accept all of my broken pieces with open arms and a tray of loaded nachos.
She’s been through too much to deal with my shit right now, so it doesn’t really matter. I won’t burden her with my past when she’s barely recovered from her trauma. When the time is right, I’ll explain everything. Then she can decide for herself.