Chapter 31 Rowan
Rowan
“You’re fucking joking!” I snarl.
The rage pumping through my veins is so all-consuming I swear I’m seeing fucking red.
And I haven’t touched a booster dose in a real fucking long time. This is all natural.
Jett holds his hands up in surrender, shrugging as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I charge towards him, ignoring our dad’s yell, and tackle him into the wall with my shoulder.
It’s a testament to how fucking angry I am that I actually pin him to the wall for a second, gripping his collar.
My fist smashes into his face.
It’s the best feeling in the fucking world.
I’ve never hit back, let alone hit him first.
I need to work on my fucking form, because the jolt from the impact shoots straight up and into my elbow.
“Rowan!” My dad snaps, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.
“Don’t fucking ‘Rowan’ me, Dad. First, I come back from a fucking fight Jett was supposed to be at for the entire weekend—“
Jett shoves me off of him like I weigh nothing, and I stumble back, trying my best to smite him with my gaze.
He rubs his jaw, a smirk tugging at his lips. It only pisses me off more. One punch from him and I’m on the floor. One punch from me and he almost looks like he’s holding back a fucking laugh.
“I come back,” I continue with a frustrated groan, running my hands through my hair. “To find that Jett has drugged my omega.”
“She’s not yours, baby bro—“
“She is, and you fucking know it,” I snarl. “We won every single fucking fight this weekend. Thanks to me. Thanks to my training. Dad promised her to me, and you took her! And you’ve been fucking keeping her from me!”
I shake my head, fighting to collect myself. To keep myself calm. At least calm enough to get my words out.
“Not only have you drugged her, but you just fucking said that you don’t have the drug the facility used to stop her heat!”
I whirl to face my dad, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Jett is a fucking idiot. You have to see that. She’s been in heat for two fucking weeks, Dad. Two whole weeks!”
My dad just purses his lips, narrowing his gaze on Jett. His fingers drum against his wooden desk, but he remains silent.
Jett shrugs, but his lips quirk up into an infuriating smirk. I want nothing more than to drive my fist through his face.
“We’ll just have to stop it the natural way, right, Doc?”
Dr. Stetson stands awkwardly by the door, his knuckles white around the handle of his briefcase.
“If you truly don’t have any of the drug the facility used, then yes. I have no way of even trying to replicate it with the resources I have,” he says hesitantly.
Jett opens his mouth, probably to do something as fucking twisted as volunteering.
“You’re not getting anywhere near her,” I snarl. “Omega biology 101. The last thing an omega needs while she’s in heat is stress. And I think it goes without saying that you stress her the fuck out.”
The last thing an omega needs, period, is stress, but I’m not going to argue that right now. Not when we have a pressing issue at hand.
I’ve waited helplessly outside her cell door, waiting for her heat to break, waiting for her to stop sobbing in pain. For weeks. Sleepless night after fucking sleepless night.
I haven’t been allowed in. Jett is the only one with the fucking key.
The only thing I can do is pray she passes out from the pain. She’s been doing that more frequently, too. Probably because her body is so weak from being in heat twice the length of a long heat.
“You can fuck right off with that,” Jett snaps back. “It’s not like you can help her at all. You’re just a beta.”
There Jett goes again, spitting out any other designation other than alpha like a slur.
“Rowan is right,” Dr. Stetson adds, straightening his shoulders as he meets Jett’s cutting glare. “Having a partner she doesn’t trust helping her through a heat as damaging, both physically, hormonally, and psychologically as this one could break her. This level of stress can kill omegas.”
Kill.
The word cracks through the room like a gunshot.
Mirabelle could die.
I could lose her. We could lose her.
It feels like all the progress the alpha fighters have made has been slipping through my fingers the longer Mirabelle is gone.
The longer they know Mirabelle is being tortured, suffering alone in a cold concrete cell, bound to a fucking bare mattress, the more of themselves they seem to lose.
It doesn’t help that I haven’t been able to transport them to the practice barn nearly as much to burn off their excess energy since I’ve been glued to the door of Mirabelle’s cell.
“I hope you’re making progress with synthesizing Mirabelle’s blood into a makeshift booster drug, Doctor,” Dad says, cutting his gaze to Dr. Stetson.
“I’m making progress, but it is a complicated process and an even more complicated formula. Rest assured that I’ll be able to make do with the amount of blood that’s already been... collected.”
“We’re on a tight timeframe, Doctor. I hope you understand that.”
“I do. It just goes against my regular scope of practice—“
“You have a hefty reward waiting for you when you succeed. And a punishment if you don’t. I’m sure you won’t disappoint. You’ve been very loyal to the family.”
Dr. Stetson gives my dad a serious nod.
“So then,” my dad says slowly, turning to me. “What exactly were you thinking, Rowan? Your brother has a point. There’s no way a beta can help her through her heat at this stage, no matter how... close you two may be.”
My pounding heart stutters in my chest. This is it. My opportunity to help Mirabelle.
“The alpha fighters,” I answer, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “Part of my... training technique has been building the bond between them and the omega. They have a baseline level of trust between each other for this to work.”
“I see. Fine then, but only one. Sending three feral dogs in with an omega in a crazy heat is a recipe for disaster. They’d go into rut and we wouldn’t be able to control them.”
“Fine. Then Griffin, the new fighter,” I answer.
My dad has a point. They very well could go into rut.
I can’t imagine what Ash, let alone Rage, would look like, consumed by that overwhelming alpha desire to fuck.
It’s not as common as omegas going into heat. It seems to be more of a reactive hormonal state, from my research, but still. Bad news, especially if they’re already feral.
And despite Ash and Rage reclaiming pieces of their humanity, Mirabelle’s absence for the past couple weeks has cemented that they haven’t reclaimed those pieces permanently.
“Very well,” Dad says, waving a hand. “You’re in charge of getting the omega out of her heat. Alive.”
“That’s not fucking fair—“ Jett’s snarl is cut off by my dad’s even louder one.
“Shut the fuck up,” Dad barks. “I’m not done with you. Why is it that your brother seems to have to fix all of your mistakes? Now that he’s finally pulling his weight, I keep on looking at you and asking myself how the fuck you could fuck up this bad!”
Jett’s jaw slams shut, but his chest heaves.
“Give your brother the access card,” Dad says, his jaw ticking.
Jett hesitates, but at Dad’s low growl, he reaches into his pocket and flicks it at me.
“I’m gonna go,” I mutter under my breath, pushing the door open. Dad is probably going to yell at Jett for a lot longer. Probably do more than yell.
I don’t give a shit.
Jett deserves it. And more.
“Wait,” Dr. Stetson calls to me, his worn loafers clicking against the wooden floor as we stop in the living room.
“What?” I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face.
I’m shaking.
Dammit, I need to keep myself together.
Dr. Stetson’s brows draw down in concern as he looks at me. He’s seeing far more than I want him to see. I know it.
“Spit it out, Doc. I have to—I don’t have time for this,” I grit out, my voice breaking.
“Yes, you’re right. Sorry. I just wanted to tell you I spoke with Mirabelle after she was first given the dose of whatever Jett drugged her with.
She was still conscious enough to express to me who she would want to service her through her heat if she were given the opportunity. It’s standard protocol... well...”
“It’s standard protocol everywhere but here, you mean?” I say bitterly.
“Yes. She named you first, Rowan. I explained to her that you alone wouldn’t be able to help her through her heat, and she requested the alpha fighters, but I just wanted you to know.
You have the power to help her, even though you’re a beta.
She trusts you. First and foremost, she needs to feel safe, and you’re the best one for the job. ”
His words nearly land me on my ass.
Mirabelle named me? First?
If this were any other scenario, if I weren’t worried about Mirabelle’s life being on the line, I’d be fucking ecstatic.
“Got it. Any other tips, Doc?” I say, giving him a jerky nod.
“After she’s knotted for the first time, there should be a lull period before her heat demands... an encore of the activities. Make sure she drinks and eats during that time. She’ll be quite weak. I could get her TPN—IV food, basically—but still.”
“Make sure she eats and drinks,” I mutter under my breath. “Thanks, Doc.”
“I’ll come with you. Help take out the IVs.”
I give him another jerky nod, my mind moving a thousand miles a minute.
The drive on the golf cart is a blur. I floor it the entire way.
The access card feels slippery in my clammy hands as I dig it out of my pocket and scan it on the panel beside her cell. It buzzes open, and I shove the door open, immediately coughing as Mirabelle’s twisted perfume hits my nostrils.
It’s the scent of sickly sweet, rotting strawberries covered in corn syrup and lit on fucking fire.
The absolute pain and despair she’s feeling have seeped into every corner of that room. I’m sure it’s worked its way so far into the mattress that her twisted scent will never leave it.
I’ll burn it for her later.
Horror washes over me as I step up to her body. I wasn’t able to see much, with the tiny glass window of the door.