6. Chapter Six #2
“I’m only trying to work out how regular your heat cycles were because your tests revealed that you haven’t had a heat in a long while.
Did you know omegas are meant to have four heat cycles a year?
” He continues quickly, no doubt reading the tightness on my face because I knew that, and it was the only thing that saved me.
“I’m only asking because I’m trying to work out when your body started shutting down, as I’m sure it did living under those circumstances.
I only want to help you by understanding. I don’t want to distress you.”
I shake my head. I’m embarrassed about how little I know about my biology. My real biology. Not the bullshit I was fed that served others.
I can’t go back down there. Not now I’ve glimpsed the sun. The doctor seems sympathetic. Maybe he knows a way I can disappear. Maybe he will help me. He’ll know handing me back over no matter what the law says will mean my death sentence.
“Please.” I try to rise but I’m so damn weak. “Please don't let them take me back. Don't give me back to Pack Carmichael. Please...”
“They were already here,” Dr. Chen says, and my heart stops.
“They tried to collect you, but your scent match alphas prevented it.” He adjusts his glasses and levels a look at me.
“Those alphas haven't left since you were brought in, and to be totally honest, they're your best protection right now. They will defend you with their lives.”
I shake my head, disbelieving .
“If you don't believe me,” he says softly, “reach out through the new bond. Feel what your alpha is feeling right now.”
I filter through the acidic bond, feeling Matthew’s familiar assault of cruelty, and Derek and James’s malignity.
As I pass over them, claws reach up to gouge my soft underbelly.
I cringe into the familiar harshness, knowing their intentions if they get me back into their clutches.
As though their neglect, the raid and me being put into hospital, is my fault.
I stumble to the new bond that was never there before.
I have to sink down deep to find the cord, as though he’s muted himself somehow, but when I do I’m hit with a tsunami of raw feeling.
None of it carries the malice I'm used to. There’s loathing, yes, but it’s self-loathing, all of it directed inward, not at me. It's... strange. Unsettling.
But I slam those observations away, lock them behind walls built from hard experience. Anyone can manufacture emotions. James used to make himself feel 'sorry' right before his fist would strike my face. This must be another trick.
It has to be.
“Is there anyone you'd like to talk to?” Dr. Chen asks, clearly seeing my skepticism. “Someone who might help you feel safer? Anyone you trust?”
The question catches me off guard. Trust? The word is foreign on my tongue. But...
“I have…friends,” I whisper, the words coming before I can stop them. I've kept their names locked away, protected them from my alphas' interrogations. But now, with freedom tantalizingly close... “Mira and Leah.”
I'm not going to tell him they're omegas. Or that deep down, I’ve given up hope of ever seeing them again.
The words stick in my throat as memories flood back.
Three terrified girls plotting escape in whispers, knowing what waited for us when our first heats hit.
But telling him they're omegas would be pointless.
How do you trace someone who legally doesn't exist?
We're not like betas or alphas. We don't have jobs or bank accounts or driver's licenses.
We don't own property or have credit cards or show up in a system that matters.
We're possessions, things to be owned and traded.
Our only paperwork are our designation certificates and transfer of ownership papers.
I need to know if they made it. If they're safe. If this doctor can find them, why not let him try? I hope they didn’t end up like me, chained in dark places with cruel alphas and subjected to partial bonds.
We had a plan for after our escape. When we were safe, we’d place an ad in The Daily Herald but if they were caught like I was, if they ended up owned by alphas who keep them locked away... The chances of them seeing a newspaper, let alone being allowed to place an ad, are non-existent.
Still, I need to know. Need to believe that at least one of us made it. That all our planning, all our dreams of freedom, weren't completely in vain, but I'm fading fast, my body heavy with exhaustion. Even this short conversation is draining what little energy I had.
Dr. Chen pats my hand. “I'll send a nurse to help you get cleaned up. When you’re done, I’ll have a meal ready for you. You’ll feel better after that.”
I can barely believe he’ll go to all that trouble for me, but when he moves to the door, I hear urgent voices outside. Through the door, I hear their voices overlapping in urgent tones.
“How is she?”
“Is she in pain?”
“Does she need anything?”
“Can we see her?”
Those alphas, my scent-matches, sound desperate, worried. Their deep voices make my heart rate spike until I hear the doctor's firm but gentle reply. “She's awake but needs care. Please don't disturb her.”
“But—” That's Asher, his protest carrying through the doorway.
“No buts,” Dr. Chen says. “She needs time. Space. And right now, three large alphas hovering over her will do more harm than good.”
“At least tell us if she's eating,” one of them pleads. “ If she's—”
“I will update you on her condition regularly. Now, please. Let her rest.” The doctor moves through the door and shuts it with a firm click. The silence in the room is both unsettling and a relief.
Through Asher's bond, I feel his discontent, his desire to come in, to check on me. The emotion rolls through our connection. Concern, worry, the need to protect, but he stays outside. That's... unexpected.
A beta nurse enters, her movements efficient but kind as she helps me to the bathroom and onto a seat in the shower. The water is heaven. Pure, clean heaven. It's almost too much—the warmth, the pressure, the ability to actually get clean.
The nurse checks the IV drip in my arm with practiced care before preparing a basin of warm, soapy water.
Her touch is confident yet kind as she gently wipes away layers of dried blood, carefully avoiding my bandaged sores and the tubes trailing from my veins.
Warmth and cleanliness seep into my skin with every stroke, almost too much after so long in filth and discomfort.
The nurse never loses her professional composure, even as I flinch or tremble.
When my arms grow too heavy, she murmurs encouragements, washing my hair in sections and expertly teasing out the tangles.
All the while, she speaks in a soft, soothing voice filling the silence, though not expecting me to answer.
My skin is mottled, bruised and scarred.
My bones poke under my skin and I almost wish for the filth back.
That, at least, hid my ordeal, but the nurse helps me into another clean hospital gown that feels like silk on my skin and I’m all covered up.
Even better, the gown doesn't smell of basement or fear or alpha or pain.
She settles me back into bed and brings me food. Simple broth and crackers but it’s more than the stale peanut butter sandwiches I’ve lived off for so long that it’s like fine dining to my taste buds. I manage a few spoonfuls before my stomach fills and exhaustion pulls me under.
A knock wakes me. I blink as the door opens.
My heart stops. Starts. Stops again.
The woman who looks at me is... healthy. Clean. Her auburn hair is neatly styled, her clothes are nice.
There's no haunted look in her eyes .
No signs of the terror we shared at Haven.
I'm either dreaming, or at least one of us made it to freedom after all because the woman with tears running down her cheeks is Mira.