Chapter 4 Rowan
Rowan
Iseriously wish Mirabelle wasn’t in the shower right now. Because I think I need a cold one as soon as fucking possible.
She’s so sickeningly sweet it could cause a toothache for coldhearted bastards like my brother. When Jett sees someone like Mirabelle, a pretty young thing who screams softness, all he wants to do is break them.
I see her light, and I’m mesmerized. Like a moth to a flame, caught in her orbit.
There’s this air of pure innocence around her. She stared up at those clouds in the sky like it was her first time seeing fucking clouds. And then she looked at me with those bright eyes and that fucking smile… It takes my breath away every time.
She’s stunningly beautiful, too.
And now, she’s naked, less than one paper-thin wall away, with water dripping down—
Fucking hell, I need to get my head out of the gutter. She’s been through hell. She’s going to continue going through hell here, considering my brother’s plans for her.
I pace back and forth in the small kitchen, opening my fridge door for the fourth time to see if there’s anything other than beer, eggs, and milk. Nope. Still pitifully empty.
I never have guests here, so my diet of microwave frozen dinners and the occasional takeout order is fine. But I have an omega in my space right now.
Sure, an omega who seems to have been bought from an insane facility of some sort, but still an omega. The last thing I want to do is make those big, sparkling emerald green eyes dull with disappointment. Or worse, disgust.
I should ask her what she’d like to eat when she’s done with the shower. I’m sure she’d like to choose.
The water shuts off, sending a shudder through the walls as the old pipes announce that she’s all done with her shower.
I continue pacing back and forth, because waiting outside the door would be weirdo fucking behavior.
Act cool, Rowan.
It doesn’t matter that she’s the most gorgeous omega I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t matter that she’s inside my trailer. It doesn’t matter that she’s going to step out wearing my clothes.
“God fucking dammit,” I mutter under my breath. “Of course, the one girl I’ve spoken to in fucking years is a girl my family fucking kidnaps to use as bait for the fighting dogs.”
My palms dig into my closed eyes so hard I see stars. I’m so fucked. This situation is so fucking fucked.
“Rowan?” Her soft, almost melodic voice calls from behind me. “Are you alright?”
God, I love the sound of my name on her lips. I want to hear her say it over and over again in all the ways possible.
“Sorry.” I straighten and turn, freezing like a deer in headlights when I catch sight of her.
She’s drying her auburn hair with the towel. It looks darker now that it’s wet. And she’s standing in front of me in nothing but my boxers and an old t-shirt.
The t-shirt is thin, showcasing the thin outline of those strawberry pink nipples I know lie below. Fuck my brother and his sadistic tendencies. I wish I were strong enough to not have looked, when Mirabelle was crawling over to me earlier, but I’m a weak man.
With her arms lifted to dry her hair, I see the hint of my boxers stretched across her hips.
Fuck, she looks good in my clothes.
“Are you okay?” She repeats softly, offering me one of her smiles.
“Oh, yeah, am I okay...” I trail off, trying to come up with an answer. “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking a lot. This whole situation is pretty crazy.”
“I’m sorry if my presence is causing you any trouble.” She eyes me, and I catch a glimpse of her mind working to catalogue all my reactions to her words. Almost like she’s trying to gauge how much she’s allowed to talk with me.
“You aren’t causing me any trouble,” I insist, before gesturing for her to take a seat on the couch along the wall. The dining chair scrapes on the floor as I drag it to sit across from her, giving her a little space. “I just hate the situation you’re in. You don’t deserve this bullshit.”
I pick at the frayed hems of my black jeans as she perches herself on the couch.
“I—I know you agreed to do something you didn’t seem like you wanted to do to save me from your brother,” she whispers.
“Ah, yeah, that. Training the new dog,” I huff, scrubbing a hand down my face.
No clue what I was thinking, suggesting that.
Most of the trainers we have here are alphas for a reason.
It’s a risky business, dealing with drugged-up trained killers and getting them to do shit they probably don’t want to do.
“What exactly does that mean?”
“The dogs are feral alpha fighters. They’re kept here at my dad’s stable: The Mercer Family Farm.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Though I wouldn’t call us much of a fucking family and all the farming we do is just a front.”
She stares at me with those big, innocent eyes, her bottom lip tilting downwards in an effortless pout at the mention of my shitty family.
“They’re called fighting dogs because they’re trained to go in and fight other feral alphas from other farms at showcases,” I continue with a sigh. “The more wins they have, the more valuable their blood is. We have two right now, but my dad just bought another. That’s the one I’m gonna train.”
She nods slowly, seeming to absorb everything I’m saying surprisingly well. No questions. No exclamations about how inhumane the family business is.
“I’ve heard that I’m supposed to be used as... bait?”
I meet her gaze, forcing my next words out without looking away. If she’s going to have to survive the upcoming hell, then I can suck it up and look her in the eye when explaining things.
“We’ve had the two dogs in our stable for a long fucking time.
They’ve been forced to take enhancement drugs, probably a lot more than they should.
That shit can make anyone go crazy. My brother had the stupid fucking idea that they could be tamed, or at least their ferality could be kept at bay if they were around an omega. ”
“And I’m the omega.”
“Yeah, Sugar. You are.”
The nickname spills out before I realize what I’m saying. But it fits. She’s sweet as can be.
She’d probably fare better if she weren’t.
But despite the terrible situation she’s in, her lips still quirk up into a little smile like she’s trying to reassure me.
“I’ll do my best to try to help them.”
I shake my head, my throat closing at the thought of the feral alphas. At the thought of sweet Mirabelle being thrown in a fucking cage with one of them and torn apart.
If Jett’s plan fails, and it very well might, an omega like Mirabelle may be torn to literal shreds.
Hell, feral alphas far bigger than both of us combined have a hard time fighting the two dogs we’ve got. There’s a reason the farm only has two.
It’s ‘cause the farm’s only needed two to be as successful as it has. They’re the cream of the crop, according to my dad.
“That’s—that’s—fuck, Mirabelle, you could die. You could be torn apart and you’re sitting here smiling—“ My voice cracks as I bury my head in my hands.
My chest feels like it’s going to explode. I can practically feel my heartbeat in my teeth. My body revolts at the thought of Mirabelle getting hurt.
“But if I help them, I’ll be fine, right?” She asks, her voice carrying the most significant thread of uncertainty I’ve heard from her so far.
My jaw clenches.
“If you actually help them, then they’re not the ones you’ll have to be worried about. It’s my fucking brother. He’ll use you as a pawn to get the dogs to do what he wants them to do.”
And that could be a fate far worse than getting ripped apart by a feral alpha. I know my brother. His mind is capable of sadism most can’t even fathom.
“O—oh,” she breathes.
She’s wrapped her arms around her middle, swaying from side to side, ever so slightly. Like she’s trying to comfort herself. The sight breaks my heart into a million fucking pieces.
When her gaze meets mine and I see that pouty bottom lip wobble, I can’t take it. It’s like all of the shattered pieces of my heart on the floor have been pulverized into dust.
“So—so even if I don’t break the rules here, I’m still going to be punished?” She whispers.
“Yeah, sugar,” I say, my voice strained.
“Oh,” she repeats.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I’ll save her. That we can run away now, escape into the night, and never look back. That I can make sure she never has to even think about getting “punished” again.
But I don’t.
Because I’d be lying to her.
The moment I stepped foot off the compound with this wide-eyed omega in tow, everyone would be after us. My dad would put a hit out, I’m sure of it. We’d be dragged back, and I’d get a bullet between the eyes, and no one would be there to try to help Mirabelle.
“I don’t know why you talk so much about punishments, but I’m never gonna lay a hand on you, got that?” My clammy hands flex against my jeans. I have to say something to fill the hopeless silence that fills the small space around us. I need to give her some sort of hope in this hellhole.
“Really?” She asks, glancing up at me, her brows drawing down in confusion. “Even if I break your two rules?”
“Those rules are there so I can try to keep you safe, Sugar. If you break ‘em, then whatever Jett or my dad do to you will be punishment enough.”
Despite the terrible, hellish news I’ve given her, she still finds it in her to offer me another soft quirk of her lips.
“You’re really nice, Rowan.”
I’m not able to hide the wince.
My dad always said my stupid heart was too big for my own good. That it would get me into trouble and that no son of his was gonna bring that kinda trouble around. It’s why he let Jett beat the shit out of me. To make me tougher.
No matter how big of a heart they think I have, I know deep down the shitshow that is my life has turned me hard and bitter.
I’d like to think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart. But I know better.
“I’m not doing this ‘cause I’m nice,” I grunt, immediately pushing myself to my feet.