Chapter 14
JUDGE
Ilook over the woman who’s precious to me, and even though I’m just learning her world, the sight of her blood makes mine run cold.
It's not the actual effect of seeing it, something I’m as used to by now. It's the way it looks on her. The way her shirt is stained with it, dark and spreading, a visual cue that something vital is leaking from my omega and smelling like hers.
She’s the person I was supposed to protect.
This is the ultimate failure.
There's not enough blood for her to have lost consciousness this quickly... I was observing her the entire time as the blood stained the floor, and it never spread enough to make me cut our dialogue short. Internal bleeding? Something else?
My hands have been burning the entire time—a low, insistent fire that I've been ignoring because Diana matters more than the pain. But now I look at my hands, really look, and I see the black residue smeared across my palms where I grabbed the warrog's jaw.
Poison.
Fuck.
Her head falls against my shoulder like she's boneless.
I press her harder against me, pissed to not have full use of my fingers at a time like this.
Her lifelessness makes her feel like she's already gone, and I’m already moving, the bond dimming like a dying light, and for one terrible moment, I can't feel her at all.
No.
No.
Absolutely not.
I move as fast as I can go, my vision tunneled to nothing but the path ahead. The man from the underbelly is still here, hovering near the destroyed warrog like he's not sure whether to run or stay. His eyes widen with fear when he sees me, like the coward that he is.
“What was on those claws?” I demand, my voice like something dragged up from a grave. It’s so foreign with how much fear is in it.
He backs up, hands raised. "I—I didn't—The claws," he blurts, already scrambling for a kit on a nearby table, his hands shaking so badly he nearly drops it twice. "They were coated. I—I made a deal with the brunette with short hair—I didn’t know the omega was yours. Here, take it, take it—Witchy will help.”
He shoves a vial at me, and I snatch it from his hand, already moving before he finishes speaking.
Selene.
She’s fucking dead. And I know this time to make sure Diana never learns of these secrets. The rage that floods through me is white-hot and absolute, but I shove it down. Later. I'll deal with her later. Right now, Diana is dying in my arms, and nothing else matters.
I take the stairs two at a time as I make it to her level, Diana's weight barely registering.
She's too light. She's always been too light—doesn't eat enough, doesn't rest enough unless she’s properly knotted and I’m with her.
I should have fed her more. Should have made her sleep more.
Should have done a thousand things differently.
I nearly shoulder through Rebecca without realizing it, who's standing pale and shaking halfway up the landing. Her face is tear-streaked through dirt, her eyes red-rimmed, a bloodied wrapping around her neck, and she reaches out when she sees Diana.
"Diana!" she gasps, although backs away almost as quickly.
If I stop, I'll tear this entire building apart. Violence builds in my chest as it mixes with dread, and the only thing keeping it contained is the steady rhythm of Diana's shallow breathing.
She's still alive.
She's still alive.
The Witch Doctor's door slams open under my boot, the metal denting as it creates a gunshot sound against the ball. She's in the middle of mixing powders, her hands hovering over bowls of something that smells like burnt herbs and copper.
"Will this vial kill her?" I demand, holding it up like a threat. “That fuck face downstairs gave it to me as an antidote. I’m not using it on her unless I know it’s safe.”
She takes it carefully, her movements slow and deliberate. She drags it under her nose to sniff, her expression unreadable behind that mask, and then nods once. "It's the right antidote."
“Administer it. My hands aren’t as steady.
” I gently lay Diana down on the table, a few things falling off, keeping her resting against one of my arms so I still have a hold of her, because like Hell am I letting her out of my sight now that I have her.
The Witch Doctor moves swiftly, pinching Diana’s cheeks so she can get the vial into her mouth.
“The tongue absorbs a lot of it; keep her propped up—ah, there, that’s the last drop. ”
Diana’s body jerks once, a full-body spasm that makes my heart stop, and then her breathing steadies. The color returns to her lips, which were turning a terrifying shade of blue.
“The poison restricts blood flow,” the Witch Doctor says. Slows the heart until it stops. You caught it in time. I always tell people not to go near Sid for a reason, and they never seem to listen.”
If I'd been slower. If I'd hesitated. If I'd—I can't think about that. “Give me things to heal her wounds with. She needs them cleaned,” I state.
“There’s a medic—”
“No one will touch her but me while I’m in this place.” I articulate that very carefully, glaring up at her mask. “Where can I take her that’s private? I want to ensure she’s healthy before getting off of here, or else you’re going to fix it. She’s still clinging to your fucking rose.”
The witch gathers things into a bag as if she had prepared for this.
“You’re lucky I like you and want to see you succeed in our arrangement.
Most people with your attitude would learn why you don’t typically fuck with my craft.
” She perks a vermilion grin at me. “You are so afraid of her death, my dear alpha…”
I keep my attention on the crafty bitch while Diana breathes gently next to me, her scent easing my rage. Once the bag is filled, I place it on my shoulders and fully gather Diana back in my arms, growling at the Witch Doctor when she almost touches my omega.
“Easy, alpha. I’m not going to take your omega.
I just want to feel her energy. Good—she’s fine.
Just broken on the inside. I’d advise you to take her to the left, last leg for recovery.
Take this key; it’s for one of my rooms, given out to those who want an extended stay here.
There will be fresh water. I’ll make sure food is sent, and some medicine for her to drink.
Don’t let her lose that rose, either. It will stay fresh as long as the petals are attached, but one can be removed, dried, and crushed to ease an aching heart. ”
My breathing slows as I stare through her mask, swearing I catch a small glimpse of her real eyes underneath. Looking down to see the fat rose, and there are a lot of petals. My gaze moves to the outline of a similar image on the back of my hand, something that will reappear as my skin heals.
Oh, that hurts to know what the witch means. In that, I don’t say another word and start purring for my omega, filling in that role of alpha while I still can for her. So she and I can both have good memories in this world, at least for a short time. Even if they’re fleeting, they’re still real.
I’ll make her see that.
Moving more slowly, I return to the main corridor, slightly surprised to see that Rebecca is still there, frozen to the spot, her wide eyes reflecting the dim lantern light.
Her pallor makes her a ghost, trembling and utterly lost. When I stop just in front of her, she flinches like she expects me to kill her, a bandage visible around her neck.
Maybe I should put her out of her misery. She knew about Jack and said nothing. Diana almost died because of it. But when I look at her, really look at her, all I see is another omega who got dealt with a shit hand. Another person chewed up by this world and spat out broken.
“Where is your companion that you came with?”
“Went to get us some blankets,” she replies, her voice dry.
"Did you know about Jack?"
She crumples. Actually crumples, her knees hitting the floor, her hands coming up like she's praying. "Please, I couldn't say a word, sir. The bond, he would have known—please—"
"You don't smell like an omega anymore."
The words stop her mid-plea. "Please," she whispers again, not understanding.
"You don't need to plead." The words come out softer than I intend. I picture my faceless mother, years ago, on her knees in front of an alpha who didn't deserve her fear, begging for mercy that never came. "Do you have a plan?"
Confusing cuts through her terror. "What?"
"You're not an omega anymore," I say evenly. "The bond is gone. You're free. So I repeat, do you have a plan?"
Rebecca blinks at me, shaking her head slowly, like the concept of freedom is too foreign to process. All because of a fucking dark bond.
"Go west," I tell her, to spite Jack’s ghost. "There are cities that will take you in. Traders, caravans. People who don't care what you were, only what you can do. Perhaps a town that owes allegiance to the Reapers, but don’t go near the gang itself.” I pause, feeling the bond thrum weakly against my ribs.
"You can't come back to Dominion, not after knowing what you knew. They won’t accept you. But you're not in trouble, and I won’t come for you.”
Rebecca's eyes dart to Diana, limp in my arms. "What about her?"
"She is mine to take care of."
"What happened to her?"
"Selene."
When Diana slightly moves in my arms, my focus returns to her as I give Rebecca my back and walk away.
There's nothing else to say. Nothing else that matters.
Selene made her choice, and when I find her, she'll answer for it…
but that's a problem for later. Right now, Diana needs me.
Which means I also need to get to a balcony of sorts to call in Slash, so she can alert Rust to keep an eye out for any runaways.
It takes a while, and my arms are burning slightly, but I find the door that matches the key near the lower left leg, and turn it open.
Inside is a very small room with a window that has a very small balcony that I hoped it would have.
There’s a floor bed and sink, and a water basin to fill, along with an attached room with a floor toilet.
I grab a blanket, open the door, and take Diana outside for fresh air, placing her in my lap like something too fragile to set down as I sit on the ground.
I immediately lock the door with all four locks, checking it twice, to ensure my omega and me will be totally alone.
Her skin's still cold, but her breathing is steady now. The faint pulse of the bond hums against my own chest, a tether pulling tighter with every passing second. She's coming back. Slowly, surely, she's coming back to me.
I brush a strand of hair from her face with my damaged hand, not caring that the blood from my palm smears across her temple. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except the rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her pulse beneath her jaw, the soft exhale that tells me she's still here.
Still mine.
"Come back to me," I murmur, my voice raw and cracked and nothing like the Judge that Dominion knows.
Nothing like the alpha who commands armies and under no circumstance ever reveals weakness.
"You weren't supposed to break again, sweetheart,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. "I was supposed to keep you out of it. Keep you safe. I’m sorry this happened the way it did.”
The bond pulses, and I swear I feel her stir—just slightly, just enough.
"Come back," I say again, quieter now. A plea instead of a command. "Come back to me, Diana. I'm not done fighting for you yet.”