8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Mira
“ W ait outside,” I order, surprised when my voice comes out steady despite the tremor in my limbs. Even more surprised when they actually listen, though Adrian and Zane hesitate at the door. Cole is the first to leave, practically fleeing. Something about his eagerness to get away from me is comforting.
Moving takes everything I have. My skin is too sensitive where my clothes touch it. I force myself to gather my nest such as it is. My vision blurs with exhaustion and heat-fever as I fold my blankets and shove them into my pack. Adrian's lip curls slightly when he watches through the doorway, as though my possessions might crawl with vermin.
“These come with me,” I snap, clutching the blankets to my chest as very flimsy armor. I'm angry, frustrated, terrified, and his obvious distaste for my poverty isn't helping.
He nods, his eyes dark with something I can’t name. “As you wish.”
I take one last look at my apartment. My stomach churns with anxiety, acid burning the back of my throat. I won't be coming back here. Even if I survive this heat with my freedom intact, this place is burned.
They surround me as we pass down the corridor and I make myself a promise: as soon as my heat passes, I'm gone. Out of this city, away from these alphas, far from Mercer's reaching, grabby, criminal hands. These alphas might mean well now. They might honestly intend to keep me safe through my heat, but this only ends one way.
There’s a price on my head, a target on my back and a deadline tattooed under my skin. They'll hand me over to Haven, “for my own good,” and my life will become more of a living hell.
The freezing night air hits as we step outside. I clutch my backpack tighter, trying to hide how badly I'm shaking. The alphas move around me in a loose triangle formation, unconsciously protective, and something in my omega hindbrain preens at their attention even as my rational mind screams in protest.
Their SUV gleams under the streetlight, a fortress of black metal and tinted windows that promises either sanctuary or prison. I'm not sure which yet. My steps falter as we approach the vehicle, fear and heat-need warring in my gut. I could make a run for it. Could make it back into the shadows of an alley where I’d have a chance of disappearing forever, and…
Adrian reaches for me as I hesitate at the open car door. His fingers are impossibly gentle as he tucks a strand of sweat-dampened hair behind my ear. The tender gesture sends electricity shooting through my overwrought nerves.
I jerk away from his touch. The last gentle hands that touched me belonged to my parents. The hugs I yearned for on my twenty-first birthday. They never made it to see me and after Mercer told me of their deaths, I never made it back to my bed in my dorm. I slid right into hell .
“I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” Not yet at least. I’m both disappointed and relieved when his hand drops.
“I promise you. You're safe with us,” he murmurs, his voice soft and rich like honey.
The sincerity in his tone makes my omega side keen with longing. This is what we're supposed to have, gentle touches, soft words, protection freely offered and given. It's a dangerous temptation, seducing me into the ultimate trap, and I’m not that stupid or naive.
Adrian opens the back door. The interior is all black leather and subtle wealth, and I've never felt more out of place in my life. Cole slides into the driver's seat without a backward glance at me, but Adrian and Zane hover, waiting for me to make the choice they're pretending I have. With nowhere else to go, I climb into the backseat.
They follow, boxing me in with their massive bodies.
“Afraid I'll run? Or just making sure your omega prize stays put?” I ignore the bead of sweat that trickles down my spine despite the interior’s temperature control.
“We're trying to help you.” Zane’s massive frame shifts toward me. His hand hovers near mine on the seat, not touching but offering comfort I can't afford to accept.
Another wave of heat rolls through me, making me bite back a whimper. Slick soaks into the expensive leather beneath me, and shame burns hot in my cheeks.
“Leave her be.” Cole's voice cuts through the tension from the front seat, sharp and unexpected. “She doesn't want your comfort. Stop hovering like she's made of glass.”
The unexpected support makes me tense even more, but he's right. Their attempts at soothing me only make everything worse. My nerves are stretched so tight I feel like I’m going to snap.
The city slides past the tinted windows as the sun rises. I try to focus on anything except the alphas boxing me in. A few people hurry along the sidewalks, wrapped in winter coats, living their normal lives. A woman laughs at something on her phone. A pair of joggers pound the footpath getting in their early morning run. None of them understand what it's like to be trapped in their own biology, to be hunted, to be property. None of them will ever understand what it means to be omega in a world built to cage us.
The buildings grow taller, cleaner and more imposing as we enter the wealthy district. Chrome and glass monuments to alpha power rise around us, and my anxiety rises with them. When I recognize Pinnacle Therapeutics looming ahead, panic claws up my throat.
“Stop the car!” I try to reach for the door handle, but Adrian catches my wrist. His touch sends electricity through my overheated skin, making me gasp. “You said you'd help me, not take me back to—”
“It's okay,” he says quickly, releasing my wrist but maintaining that protective stance. “We live here. The top floor penthouse.”
“Why do you live above your work?” I stare at him, looking for the lie he’s trying to hide.
“The security is better here than anywhere else,” Zane explains as Cole pulls into a private garage beneath the building. “No one can reach you here without our knowledge.”
That's exactly what I'm afraid of.
Adrian opens the door and turns, waiting for me. I clutch my ratty pack holding my worldly belongings and slide across the seat, putting my feet down on cold concrete. It feels like I fled this building years ago, and now I’m back. I recognize the floor. The basement where the service elevator spat me out on my mad run out of the building, but the elevator they guide me to is private.
Zane pulls out a card and slides it over a panel set in the door, which slides open to reveal the small luxurious space. We file in, the alphas still keeping me locked between them. I don’t know where they expect me to run, but when the doors start to close, I have to fight the panic that’s dogged me since I accepted their ‘offer’ of help.
The elevator ride is torture. Four people in a small space, my heat-scent mixing with their pheromones until I can barely breathe. They stand in a loose circle around me, not touching but close enough that I’m surrounded, contained. My reflection in the mirrored walls shows how small I look between them, how obviously out of place. I shove my nose into the top of my pack to try to block out their scents.
The penthouse doors slide open onto a space that makes me want to run and hide. Everything screams wealth and power. Sleek modern furniture in shades of gray and blue, probably imported from countries I can't pronounce. The ceilings soar overhead, making me even smaller, more insignificant.
“This way, omega.” Adrian gestures toward a hallway, but my feet won't move. My worn uniform is disgusting and dirty, my hair a tangled mess, my whole being a stain on this immaculate environment.
My stomach growls loudly enough for all of them to hear, and I wrap my arms around myself, embarrassed. Adrian moves to stand in front of me and I instinctively back up until I hit the wall. He's massive—all broad shoulders and alpha presence—and my heart skips a beat as I prepare for the inevitable. In his bed, demanding me to present for the first taste of his fists and his knot.
But he just asks, “When did you last eat?”
I blink, thrown off balance. When was the last time? The days have blurred. “Three days?” I manage. “Maybe? I usually get leftovers from the diner, but Andy was working, and he never...”
Cole makes a harsh sound and stalks off. I bristle at his obvious disgust. “It's not my fault,” I snap at his retreating back. “Two minimum wage jobs barely covers rent, let alone food. It’s not as though I have a choice where I work.” Above-board employers need a designation declaration with papers. Something I don’t have because of my omega status.
“Come on,” Adrian says, gesturing for me to follow him. His gentleness is almost worse than aggression. At least I know how to handle threats.
The kitchen is bigger than my entire apartment, all gleaming stainless steel and marble countertops. To my surprise, Cole is already there, pulling ingredients from a massive refrigerator and slamming them onto the counter. I thought he’d stalked off to his room. Or somewhere I’m not. He doesn’t want to do this for me, so why is he? I didn't ask for him to personally cook me anything.
“You don’t have to go to any trouble. A sandwich is fine, and I can make that if you can spare the ingredients.” I ignore the dirty look Cole throws me. Okay then, looks like he doesn't want me touching anything in his kitchen.
Adrian guides me to a stool at the island counter, and I perch on the edge clutching my pack in my lap. Everything is surreal, the luxury surrounding me, the three alphas moving around their space with easy familiarity, the way they seem content to feed me instead of... other things.
Zane tugs at my pack. My fingers tighten around it when he tries to lift it. “It’s okay, Mira. I’m going to put it on the floor just here where you can see it. You can’t eat and hold it at the same time.”
I make my fingers relax and ignore the smile that lights his face. He does what he said he would and leans my pack against the wall close to me. I force my gaze from the pathetic, ragged bundle that looks so out of place in this luxury penthouse as Adrian fills a glass with orange juice and slides it across the counter to me.
“You’ll need the sugar,” he says.
Of course. Can’t have the omega fainting halfway through knotting her. My sugared scent turns bitter and I ignore the strained look that crosses Adrian’s face.
Cole works at the stove with efficient movements, his back rigid with tension. The smell of cooking onion makes my stomach cramp, but I force myself to sip the juice slowly, even at the first, delicious taste. The last thing I need is to throw up in this spotless kitchen.
“Do you prefer chicken or beef in your soup?” Cole asks without turning around, his voice gruff.
The question is so normal, so mundane, that I almost laugh. Or cry. I'm not sure which. It’s been so long since I had a choice, that even this small one is monumental. “I... chicken?” I manage, hating how uncertain I sound.
I ignore the frown etched into Adrian’s brow. At least they're feeding me first, before they demand what I don’t want to give, not that what an omega wants has ever stopped any alpha before. That's more consideration than most alphas would show.