5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Phoenix
“ A sher, get back !” I grab my prime's shoulders, hauling him away from our terrified omega as medical staff flood the room. His muscles are iron under my hands, every fiber of him straining toward the broken figure rocking on the floor with her thin arms over her head.
The heap of skin and bones under that hospital gown can’t possibly be a full-grown omega. She’s huddled in a ball, eyes open and staring into space the same way she did when we discovered her in that basement. Awake, but not present. Hiding in the confines of her mind.
The screams she made before she mentally disappeared echo in my head.
In my bones.
I've heard a lot of sounds in my years on the force, but nothing like that. Nothing that raw, that broken. Nothing that spoke so clearly of absolute terror.
“Let me go !” Asher roars, fighting against my grip. Soren grabs his other arm as our prime tries to surge forward again. It takes both of us to hold him back, and even then, it's like trying to restrain a freight train.
“Pull yourself the fuck together, Ash,” I yell, hauling him away. His instincts are working against him. Against us. Everything inside him will be making him want to protect our omega and the best way to do that is let the medical staff give her the attention she needs.
His eyes have turned feral, pupils blown wide with rage. Sweat darkens his hairline as he struggles against us, and the emotions bombing our pack bond nearly bring me to my knees. Guilt and fury and helplessness crash together in waves that threaten to drown us all.
“I have to…” His voice breaks with a note that’s hard to hear.
“You have to let the nurses help her,” Soren grunts, barely maintaining his grip. “Please, brother. She needs their help.”
Some semblance of sanity returns to his face. He sags in our grip and we haul him away from the tight huddle around our omega. She’s so still. So unresponsive despite whatever they’re doing to her.
Pale.
Lifeless.
Broken.
She blinks every so often, but that’s the only response she gives to anything they do to her.
Asher vibrates in my hands as he fights his instinct, fights us, fights the despair over his actions.
His biceps push the limit of his shirt, the material straining over his shoulders as he wars with himself.
A nurse moves after laying our mate on the bed and I catch a glimpse of her face.
Pale. Too pale.
Mouth slack.
Eyes the color of a summer sky are open but vacant. So fucking vacant . It takes all my concentration not to become swept away in Asher’s spiral .
The medical team moves around our omega's frozen form. Dr. Chen carefully inserts a new IV while another checks her vitals. They speak in soft, measured tones, treating her like the wounded person she is.
“Severe anxiety response... catatonic state... previous trauma...” Their clinical observations feel like accusations. Each word drives another spike of agony through our pack bond as Asher watches them work.
“I’m starting a low-dose sedation,” the doctor announces, injecting something into her IV line. “We need to reduce shock.”
Asher makes a sound I've never heard from him before, part growl, part pure anguish. His knees give out. Soren and I guide him to the floor. “I did this. Claimed her without consent, and now...” His hands shake as he runs them through his hair. “What have I done? What have I done to her?”
The despair pouring through our bond makes it hard to breathe.
He sees himself as no better than the monsters we hunt.
He hurt her, but this isn’t just the result of his bite.
Her trauma has taken systematic years of abuse to form but he bonded her, and she’ll feel everything he does. We have to calm him down.
“Let's get him out of here,” I say to Soren.
We drag his ass out of the room and I slam him against the wall in the corridor outside. He slumps against the wall, chest heaving, bond burning as he beats himself up.
“Ash.” I grab his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. “You need to get control of yourself. If we can feel you through the pack bond, she will too.”
“Pull yourself together, brother. You're our prime. Act like it. Your emotional meltdown is flooding through to her, and she can't handle it right now,” Soren speaks in a biting tone.
I shake Asher. “I know you're drowning in guilt. But she's drowning in your guilt too. You can’t take that bite back. Man the fuck up and deal with the fallout.”
Asher's eyes finally focus on us, some of the raw anguish replaced by understanding. And shame.
“You made a mistake. A fucking massive one. But having a breakdown isn't going to help her. She needs you to be stronger than this. We all do,” Soren says .
I hammer the nail in our prime’s coffin hard enough I hope it snaps him right the fuck back into the present.
“Our scent match is in there fighting for her life. And your emotions are probably pushing her further into shock. Get it together, Ash. Be the alpha she needs right now, not one who is wallowing in self-pity.”
The words are harsh, but we need him focused. Need him functioning. Because this situation is fucked enough without our prime falling apart at the seams.
Finally, Asher's eyes clear, that haunted look replaced by something harder, more focused. He wrestles his emotions under control, forcing down the guilt and self-loathing. It's not gone, but it's contained. Manageable. Just in time, because Dr. Chen emerges from the omega's room.
Asher straightens, pushing away from the wall. “Doc, how is she?”
The prime alpha we know is back online, and thank fuck for that, because if there's one thing our broken omega doesn't need, it's a broken alpha trying to protect her.
Dr. Chen adjusts his glasses, eyes flicking between us. “I won’t lie. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. Her body’s under enormous strain from malnutrition, infection, and now she’s battling competing bonds from two packs.”
Asher’s jaw tightens; the smolder of our bond flares. I press a hand to his bicep, sending a silent warning to stay steady.
“Do you think she’s going to…” Make it. My throat tightens; I can't finish.
Dr. Chen’s gaze is heavy. “Her BMI is dangerously low. She’s malnourished.
Dehydrated. She has multiple infected wounds, especially around her ankle, and needs aggressive antibiotics.
There is evidence of repeated trauma, old and new.
But the worst is systemic.” He clears his throat, shifting on the linoleum floor.
“Her omega biology has also essentially shut down. It’s a survival response we sometimes see with extreme trauma.
Her hormone levels are near nonexistent.
Blood work shows she hasn’t cycled into heat for months, maybe even a year. ”
I share a horrified look with Asher and Soren. She can’t be more than mid-twenties, an omega in her prime. Omegas normally have four heats a year.
“Will she recover?” Asher chokes out .
Dr. Chen’s voice falters. “It’s unclear at this stage. There are many factors to consider. Her body has rewired itself to block heat cycles. And now, with an additional claiming bite…”
A guttural sound escapes Asher. I grip his shoulder, grounding him and myself.
“On one hand, the new bond complicates everything. After so long with three partial connections testing her limits, a fourth only piles on the pressure she’s already struggling to manage.”
“What are you saying?” My chest tightens, breath shallow.
“Her omega functions may never normalize. She might never go into heat or form proper bonds.” The weight presses down.
Asher’s eyes blaze with fierce need. “How do we fix this? Can we fix this?”
Dr. Chen glances down the corridor, voice lowered. “Legally, I shouldn’t say. But there’s a chance and I owe it to that omega in there to give her every chance. You’re her scent-matches. That changes things biologically.”
Soren’s brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
“Instead of taking from her system, it may act the opposite way and help her.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. Please let this be the Hail Mary I’ve begged for all night long.
Dr. Chen removes his glasses, face grave. “Those alphas only created partial bonds. Control without connection. There’s not a lot of research, but you’re her true scent-matches; a full bond might override theirs.”
“Might?” I press.
“If she’d been fully bonded to her pack, this would not be possible.
” His lips tighten, giving me an inkling of what he thinks of Pack Carmichael.
“Their cruelty left a window. The biological drive toward true scent-matches is powerful. If she chooses to complete that bond with you...” He casts a harsh gaze at all of us, as if daring us to do what he suggests.
“It could break their hold and her system would normalize. In theory. Bonds formed by choice and scent compatibility are far stronger than any forced connection.”
Hope hangs fragile between us .
“This isn’t simple. An omega who’s suffered this trauma may never trust again; never bond fully. You need to respect the depth of her pain,” Dr. Chen warns.
The hum from the fluorescent lights above us fill the silence.
We’ve seen the chains. The basement. What they did to her.
And now…
We’re part of the nightmare.
Heavy footsteps thunder down the corridor, and my heart stops when I see who's approaching. Matthew and his pack storm toward us, surrounded by officers I recognize from the precinct. My hands curl into fists. I’d be happy to grind their smarmy faces into blood and bone and even that wouldn’t be payment enough for what they’ve done.
“How the fuck are they already out?” Soren says, voicing my thoughts.
“Where is she?” Matthew snarls, trying to shoulder past the police escort when he sees us. His expensive clothes are rumpled, but he still carries an air of entitled arrogance. “Where's my omega?”
The word 'my' triggers something in Asher. He lunges forward with a growl that makes the fluorescent lights flicker. “She’s not yours, you fucker.”
Soren and I barely catch him in time, muscles straining as we hold him back. The rage pouring through our bond is nuclear. Asher wants blood. I’ll happily draw it out of their bodies for him.
“Emma belongs to us,” Matthew continues, either too stupid or too arrogant to recognize the death in our eyes. “You have no right to keep her here. We own her. The contracts are clear—”
“Emma?” I wheeze, sharing a glance with Asher and Soren.
That’s her name. Our omega. Our mate. Her name is Emma.
“That's right,” Matthew sneers, clearly mistaking our stillness for submission. Stupid fuck . “And you're interfering with legal property. We paid good money for that female. I demand you hand her over.”
“For what?” I snarl, my control slipping as images of Emma's bruised body flash through my mind. “For the right to torture her? To starve her? To chain her like an animal again? ”
“I have the law on my side.” Spittle flies as Matthew speaks.
“The law?” Asher's muscles coil under my grip, ready to explode. “Like anything is legal about the way you took such good care of her in that basement?”
“She’s our property to do with as we wish,” Matthew says.
A growl comes from deep within Asher’s chest. “You males are fucking degenerates.”
“Degenerates with the law on our side.” James speaks up for the first time. I don’t think he realizes the insult he agreed with.
“Despite the law or legal ownership, there’s no way I’d clear Emma to be discharged at this stage. I’m legally obligated to place her under a medical hold to ensure she remains here for close monitoring and treatment until she’s stable. In this instance, the law is on my side,” Dr. Chen says.
Matthew's eyes narrow as he looks between us, finally seeming to register the lethal intent radiating from all three of us. “I don’t give a fuck who you are or what jobs you do. This isn't over.”
“No,” Asher agrees, his tone laced with menace. Every syllable carries a threat of retribution. “It isn’t. But if you ever come near Emma again, it will be. Permanently.”
“Is that a threat, officer?” Matthew says.
“That’s a promise,” Asher growls. “Now, fucking leave before I throw you out myself.”
“Oh, we’ll leave all right. You can be stuck with the medical bill before we reclaim her.
She’s already cost us enough.” Matthew’s features twist with smugness.
Did I miss something of vital importance?
“Don’t forget, the commissioner is a personal friend of mine.
When I come to claim my omega, I’ll be taking it along with your jobs. ”
The threat hangs in the air as Pack Carmichael shoulder their way past the officers surrounding them. I watch them stalk down the corridor, all old money and entitlement and I know an alpha like that doesn't make threats lightly.
The moment Pack Carmichael disappears around the corner, a heavy silence settles over us, thick enough to choke on. I glance at Asher, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumps visibly beneath his stubble. A wave of foreboding twists my stomach, cold fingers of dread snaking down my spine.
“That’s the second time they’ve mentioned the commissioner,” I say.
Asher gives a tight nod, eyes fixed on the empty corridor. “I heard him.”
We’ve been quietly investigating Axel Turns, looking for hard evidence linking him directly to the omega auctions.
So far, we've come up empty. There's plenty of smoke, subtle connections and suspicious coincidences, but nothing solid enough to hold up in court.
With someone as powerful as Axel, we have to be absolutely certain before making a move.
“If Pack Carmichael are in bed with the commissioner, Emma could be in far more danger than we expected,” Soren says.
I swallow down the anxious knot sitting heavily in my throat. “Then we can't underestimate their threat or the lengths to which they'll go. If they're willing to openly warn us like this, they're confident they've got us cornered.”
“We’re going to have to play this very carefully,” Soren says.
If we could get Emma to bond with us, it would make this all go away, but that is only a slim chance at the moment. We just need time—time we don't have.
I curse under my breath. Being scent-matched works in our favor, but only if our omega can find a way through her trauma.
And only if she can choose us in return.