Chapter 53 Rowan
Rowan
She’s not getting better.
She hasn’t gotten better for the past fucking week.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Ash mutters, grabbing the duffel bag he brings with him to fights. “You said her heat broke when she got bitten last time, right?”
“Yeah,” Griffin nods, his gaze darting back to the bed, where Mirabelle is luckily passed out in Rage’s arms.
Her passing out from exhaustion seems to be the only break she gets from the pain of her heat.
“Well, now she’s gotten two, one from me and one from the big guy,” Ash mutters, rubbing absently at his shoulder, where Mirabelle bit him back. “Why the fuck hasn’t her heat broken? We bit her almost a week ago.”
“I don’t know,” I say, tugging on a t-shirt. “Maybe we should find a doctor or something?”
“Fuck no,” Ash snaps, taking a menacing step towards me.
I hold my hands up in surrender, eyeing Griffin warily when he doesn’t step between us like he normally does, to try and break up fights.
“I think Ash is right,” Griffin says, wincing. “Those messages on the TV, the ones on the local news stations, they haven’t stopped. Someone’s looking for Mirabelle and I don’t think any of us like that.”
“She’s in pain, guys,” I say, rubbing absently at the ache in my chest that hasn’t gone away. “What if it gets worse? What happens then? There’s only so much we can do from here. Maybe—maybe the people looking for her have good intentions?”
“Do you hear yourself, kid?” Ash growls, his dominance so thick in the air it nearly chokes me. “That sounds like a whole lotta fuckin’ bullshit, if you ask me. You know who’s in charge of those broadcasts? The Northside. I don’t want any Northside fuckers around our omega, you hear me?”
“I hear you,” I mutter, but I’m not looking at him. I’m looking at Mirabelle, clutching Rage in her sleep like she’s afraid she’s going to get swept away.
Griffin’s phone buzzes, and he lets out a tired sigh.
“We’ve gotta go,” Griffin says. “You two good to hold down the fort till we get back?”
“Yeah,” I mumble, nodding as I take a shaky breath. “How long will you be gone?”
“Five, maybe six hours.”
“Okay,” I nod. “I’ll call you if we need anything.”
“Our phones will be in the locker rooms, but we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”
Griffin grips my shoulder before leaning in and clapping me on the back with a hug.
“See you soon. We’re gonna figure this out, alright?”
“Yeah, sure,” I nod.
My mind is already racing, moving a million miles a minute.
“Don’t do anything stupid, kid,” Ash growls, getting in my face as he slaps me on the back too, a little harder than necessary.
And then they leave.
I run my hands through my hair, tugging until my scalp burns.
God, what the hell are we doing? The four of us are in over our heads. It’s one thing if our only job were keeping a healthy omega happy, but Mirabelle’s been through god knows what.
And our only option is to just sit here and wait it out?
That’s fucked.
Omega’s heats are supposed to be full of softness and warmth. It’s supposed to be a beautiful experience, especially a heat where you get to bond.
But this heat? It’s been torturous for her. I don’t need to have the tenuous bond linking my soul to hers to know that.
We’ve had the concierge deliver us the fluffiest pillows, the softest blankets, even those twinkle lights she seemed so fond of back in my room.
And still, she hasn’t had a chance to appreciate any of it.
She’s been too weak, too consumed by the pain that seems unending for her, to even try to build a nest.
I’m pretty sure I wear a hole in the expensive, fluffy carpet with my pacing over the next two hours, desperately trying to figure out what to do.
“Rowan,” Rage snaps, dragging me out of my stupor.
“What?” I say, rushing to the bed.
“Something’s wrong,” Rage growls, lifting Mirabelle up from the cocoon of blankets so I can see her better.
Her eyes have rolled back into her head and she’s—oh God—she’s having a seizure. Or at least something similar to it.
Her limbs tremble and shake uncontrollably.
“Holy fucking shit,” I hiss, clambering onto the bed and ripping the blankets from her body so she doesn’t get tangled in them.
“What’s wrong?” Rage snaps, his chest heaving with panic.
Mirabelle’s scent... There’s something wrong with it. So incredibly wrong.
“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know!”
We need help.
And I understand why Ash and Griffin are wary of it.
But if the option is Mirabelle fucking dying or us losing her to the Northside, we lose her either way. At least she’ll be alive if we get her help.
Hopefully.
I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling.
“I’m gonna call for help,” I say, dialing 911.
Rage doesn’t protest. I think he’s just as terrified as I am right now. If not more.
Her seizure stops as the call rings.
“911, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher says from the other end of the line.
“I have an omega here, she’s in heat, but there’s something wrong. She just had a seizure and—and we need help.”
“Understood. Where are you located?”
I give them the address to the hotel. “We can come down and meet you outside or something.”
“No. We will come to you,” The dispatcher says. “I’ve sent a team your way. They’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“O—okay,” I stutter. I give them our room number.
“How is she positioned right now?” The dispatcher asks, clicking away on their keyboard.
“On her back on the bed, is—is that bad?”
“Turn her on her side, in case she vomits.”
Rage starts moving her, along with the Dispatcher’s instructions. She doesn’t wake up, despite us moving her.
If it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of her chest, I honestly would think she’s dead.
“Stay on the line with me,” The dispatcher instructs. “What is the omega’s name?”
I stiffen. It’s a natural question. Especially given the circumstances and the fact we’re asking for help with a medical emergency. But I’m going to say her name and they’re going to realize they don’t have her in their system.
And that means we’re fucked.
I put the phone on mute.
“Rage, you’ve gotta get out of here,” I hiss. “You still have time. They’re not here yet—“
“No,” Rage growls, baring his teeth at me in a snarl. “Not leaving.”
“You have to, they’re gonna realize that she’s unregistered and we’re gonna get arrested or some shit! Just—just let me take the fall, okay? I’m trying to help you here!”
“No!” Rage snarls again. “She is my mate. You are my pack mate. I’m staying.”
“Sir?” The dispatcher says, a note of concern in her voice from our silence. “It’s important we get this information.”
“Her name is Mirabelle,” I say, unmuting the phone.
“Last name?”
“I—I don’t know.”
The silence that meets me on the other end of the line is thick.
“Are you the only one with the omega?”
“No... I’m not,” I say, my shoulders slumping forward. There’s no point in lying here. “There’s one other person with me.”
More typing. More silence.
“We’re—we’re her bondmates,” I say, desperately hoping that information does something.
Even more fucking silence.
Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.
It’s the truth, though. They’re going to see that Mirabelle has mates when they examine her.
It probably looks bad to say we’re her bondmates without even knowing her last name.
“Look,” I say, my hand trembling as I hold my phone to my ear. “I know it looks bad, but we just—we just need her to get help, okay? We just need her to be okay.”
“Please cooperate with the authorities, sir. They will be there soon.”
My knuckles turn white as I grip my phone.
“Okay, thanks—“
“She’s having another,” Rage growls, reaching to steady Mirabelle’s head as she thrashes on her side.
“Fuck,” I curse, tossing the phone to the side as I kneel by Mirabelle’s side, helping hold her steady so she doesn’t hurt herself.
Luckily, we’re in bed, so there’s not much she can thrash against other than the headboard.
This time, Mirabelle vomits. Luckily, with her on her side, she doesn’t choke on it.
Time seems to slow down as Rage and I hold her.
This is so fucked.
My head jerks up when the door to our hotel room opens. A scared-looking concierge worker steps aside and a whole bunch of police officers in bulletproof vests storm into the room, their guns drawn.
Holy shit, they’ve brought the whole cavalry.
“Let go of the omega!”
“Step aside, now!”
“Get out of the way!”
A chorus of orders are screamed at us from all directions.
I hold my hands up in surrender, my eyes scanning the crowd of people for any actual medical personnel. I get why they’re sending in the police first, but the police won’t help with Mirabelle’s condition.
Rage doesn’t react well to the crowd of men, mostly alphas, who storm into the room yelling a whole bunch of shit.
He curls himself over Mirabelle’s naked body, shielding her from the perceived threats.
One police officers storms towards me, grabbing me and throwing me to the floor, pinning me to it with a knee to my back as he wrenches my wrists behind me.
“He’s not getting away from the omega!” One police officers snarls.
“Something’s not right about him, is he feral?”
“Get the tasers out.”
This is a shitshow.
Rage won’t react well to being tazed. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots as to why.
“Don’t hurt him!” I yell as I’m hauled to my feet and marched towards the door. “You guys are freaking him the fuck out! That’s his mate, right now!”
“Shut up and keep moving,” the alpha behind me growls, shoving me forward. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”
“You guys don’t understand!” I say, struggling against their hold and trying to glimpse Mirabelle through the crowd of police officers in fucking riot gear.
My eyes catch on paramedics, who’re waiting outside the hotel room with wide eyes.
“You have to help her,” I say, pleading with them. “Please, she needs help—“
“Keep it moving,” the alpha barks, dragging me down the hall.
I can hear Rage’s roar from the elevators before it cuts off abruptly.