Chapter 54 Rage
Rage
I’ve fucking lost it.
The delicate hold on my sanity I’ve been able to grow, with Mirabelle’s help, burns.
Everything is red.
And she lies, dangerously still, naked and vulnerable.
I lash out at one of them, throwing him into the wall when he gets too close to the bed. My lips are curled into a snarl as I roar so loud my vocal cords hurt.
And then one of them points a metal barrel at me.
The world goes black.
I feel like I’m stuck underwater. Floating in the deepest parts of the ocean. Everything is dark.
I don’t know where I start or end.
But little bits and pieces of reality float into my mind.
“Be careful there, Madden,” A voice says. Softer. Feminine.
“It’s confirmed he’s feral?” Another answers. A man, this time.
“Yes. The blood tests confirm it, though those were more of a formality, considering... well, what happened before he was brought in.”
“Noted.”
“With the dose of the sedative the police shot at him, he should be out for another hour or two.”
“You sure about that?”
“What?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s waking up. You should get out of here, Charlotte. Your mates would kill me themselves if they realized I let you stay in here when a feral alpha wakes up.”
“This facility is set up to handle them, I think—“
“I think you should focus on the omegas in your care. You’re the only doctor they feel comfortable with.”
“Fine, fine. You can’t blame me for coming here, though. A feral alpha that’s bonded? That’s a sight you don’t see every day. Good luck, Madden.”
There’s a hiss and a click.
Like a fancy automatic door opening and closing.
“You’re awake, aren’t you?” the male voice asks, getting closer to me.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have to force my eyes open. They feel like they weigh a million pounds. Each.
The man standing above me is an alpha.
He’s just as big as I am.
And... Is that a scar on this face, too?
“Hi, I’m Madden,” he says, offering me a small nod.
He’s standing on the other side of the small room, like he’s trying to keep some distance between us.
I try to push myself up from the bed I’m lying on, but I can’t. There are cuffs around my wrists and ankles.
A snarl rips from my chest.
“I know the restraints probably suck, but they’re a precaution. You... had to be sedated by the police.”
I’m no stranger to restraints.
I have scars on my wrists and ankles from the metal cuffs they used at the farm.
These are different.
They’re a flexible material. Almost like plastic, but much stronger.
They still freak me out just as much.
“Listen, I know this must be crazy, but you have to calm down if you want to help your mate.”
I freeze at the mention of Mirabelle, my lips peeling back in a snarl.
“Ah, so she is your mate, then,” Madden nods slowly.
“Where... is... she...” I growl, fighting to get the words out.
My pulse roars through my veins.
I desperately seek out her presence through our bond. Panic claws at my throat.
I can’t feel her.
She’s just... gone.
“Where. Is. She!” I roar.
“She’s safe, I promise,” Madden says.
Like I would trust the word of a random guy.
“Fuck, I’m going about this the wrong way,” he grumbles, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, you have to calm down if you want a chance at seeing her again, okay?”
This stops me in my tracks.
They have Mirabelle.
I don’t know where. I don’t know why, but this man, these people are keeping her from me.
I know these games.
“Do not... hurt her...” I growl through gritted teeth. “I will... cooperate.”
Madden winces, letting out a tired sigh.
“We have no intention of hurting her. My pack, we work closely with the Omega Center. That’s where she is right now. Receiving treatment. She’s safe, I promise.”
His words don’t make sense to me.
“Why keep me? From her?” I ask, my jaw working as I struggle to keep my tone even.
“Because the police were worried you were a threat. You sent one of their men to the hospital. The protocol for feral alphas is... It’s new.
We’ve only recently had to deal with you in this number.
We don’t have a protocol set for feral alphas with omega mates, let alone omega mates in acute distress. ”
He’s saying a lot of words. Not a lot of them are helpful.
“What do you want? From me?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Information, mostly. Let’s start with something easy. What’s your name?”
“Rage.”
“That’s an... interesting name.”
“I was given it,” I shrug.
“Okay, Rage, what’s your relationship to the beta found in that room? Rowan Mercer?”
The mention of Rowan has me jerking up in the bed again. The last thing I remember seeing was him being dragged to the floor. What happened to him?
“Rowan is pack,” I answer.
Madden’s head jerks back as if he’s not expecting that answer.
“Pack? Willingly?”
“Yes,” I nod.
“He didn’t take the omega captive? From our reports, he comes from a family that kept feral alphas as fighters. I assume you were one of those fighters?”
His surprise throws me off guard.
“Yes—“
“Yes, he kept her captive?”
“No,” I snarl, struggling to string together words with the frustration I’m feeling. “Yes, fighter. No captivity. He protected Mirabelle.”
“Wow,” Madden breathes out, running a hand through his hair. “Okay then.”
“Rowan is good,” I push. “What happened to him?”
“He was... taken into custody,” Madden mutters, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a phone.
He types something, probably texting someone, before looking back up at me.
“We’ve rescued a decent number of feral alphas from their captivity, all with varying levels of communication. How long were you captive for?”
“Long time,” I grunt.
“How long? Do you know?”
I shrug, my jaw working. My eyes close as I force myself to take a deep, steadying breath.
“I’m... frustrated,” I growl. “It’s difficult to talk. I just want to know when I can see her.”
Madden lets out a breath of understanding.
“I get it, man, I really do,” he says, tugging down his t-shirt to show a bond mark of his own. “If I were being kept away from my mate, I’d be fucking pissed too, but we’re just trying to make sure that Mirabelle’s safe. We’ve never seen feral alphas bonded before.”
“Since... since I was a teenager.”
“Damn. So like, ten years?”
“More,” I grunt.
Madden lets out a low whistle before nodding.
“Surprised you’re even able to talk, man, if you’ve been held captive for that long. Were you drugged the entire time?”
“Yes,” I nod. “It was... hard... before her.”
“Hard? Hard how?”
“I couldn’t talk... Couldn’t think... but then she came.”
“So you’re saying she helped you with all that?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, that’s interesting,” Madden mutters. “Not much of a science guy, but maybe we can try and figure out a biological explanation. Could be helpful for the other feral alphas here.”
“What... is happening to them?” I ask.
“We’re trying to rehabilitate them, the best we can. It’s been a bit tricky, but the program is still new.”
“They’re not... in trouble?”
“No, why would they be? They haven’t done anything wrong, its not like they became feral by choice.”
Madden’s phone buzzes and he glances down at it before his gaze jerks up to meet mine.
“So that beta, Rowan Mercer, is he fully a part of your pack? Like, bonded to the omega?”
“Yes. She bit him.”
He nods slowly, glancing back down at his phone.
“They’re telling me there are two other bites on her. Alpha bond marks. Three in total. Are there more of you?”
“Yes,” I nod.
Madden lets out a harsh breath, scrubbing his hand through his hair.
“Oh wow, okay, this is... wow.” Madden lets out a harsh breath, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “So we took an omega in acute distress from not one, but three feral alphas. Got it. Where were they? When the police came in?”
The way he’s framing those questions is strange. Like he thinks Ash and Griffin are going to break into wherever they have Mirabelle and steal her away.
Actually, if they know where she’s at, they’d probably do that.
“At work,” I grunt.
“Work? They’re... sound of mind enough to work?”
I wonder how crazy the other fighters they must’ve picked up are to ask that.
“They’re less crazy than me,” I say, jerking my thumb up at my head, even though it’s tied to the bars of the gurney I’m in. “They fight.”
“Willingly?”
“Yes. For money. They’re good at it.”
“I can imagine,” Madden mutters before glancing down at his phone. “Do you know how they’ll react when they find out your mate is... missing?”
“Bad,” I grunt with a shrug.
Madden just sighs like he expected my answer.
“Any recommendations you’ve got to make sure they don’t...” He winces, “How do I put this... lose their shit like you did? Maybe if we have you talk to them?”
I narrow my eyes at him, my lip curling back.
“Why should I talk to them... for you?” I huff.
He grimaces, his lip tugging with his own scar.
It makes something twist in my chest. Should I trust him?
“What if I get someone to send me proof that your mate is okay? That we actually have her at the Omega Center?”
“Maybe,” I grunt, pushing myself up on the gurney so I can sit a little straighter. The idea of seeing Mirabelle right now? I’d give anything. I need to see that she’s okay.
“Alright, give me a second,” he says, turning back to his phone and typing away.
A few minutes later, he steps up beside my bed so I can see his screen. His phone rings with a video call.
“Hey, Madden,” a feminine voice says from the other line.
“Hey there, Reyna. I have someone I believe to be the mate of the omega just brought into the Omega Center’s custody. Well, one of him, at least.”
He pans the camera to reveal both of us.
A woman, who I assume is an omega, with jet black hair and grey eyes, blinks at me on the screen.
“Wow,” she breathes out, her eyes wide with shock. “Well, hi, I’m Reyna. What’s your name?”
“Rage,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at her. “Where... is she?”
“She’s unconscious right now. We’ve had the doctors stabilize her, but she’s still in a really fragile condition.”
“Show... me...” My heart pounds in my chest. I need to see her. I need it about just as much as I need oxygen right now. “Please.”
The woman’s expression softens.
“You—you must really care about her, huh?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, offering her only a single nod.
“Okay then, Rage,” the woman says, flipping the camera around to reveal a glass window into what looks like a hospital room.
Far more comfortable than the basically empty room I’m in right now.
And there she is.
Mirabelle.
Her chest rises and falls with each of her breaths.
There are machines attached to her arms and some IVs, but no restraints.
I glance down at my own. At least she doesn’t have to experience those.
“I’m surprised she turned up mated,” the woman says, her voice coming through the phone even though she keeps the camera on Mirabelle.
I don’t know why she’s being so kind. But I’m grateful. I don’t care if it’s a trick. I’ll take whatever parts of Mirabelle I can right now.
“I don’t know if Mira ever mentioned me,” the woman continues. “But we met at the facility she was kept in.”
I perk up at her words.
The facility?
She never shared much about it, but I remember hearing whispers from the other guys.
The name she used for Mirabelle also sticks in my brain.
Mira.
“My name is Mirabelle, but—but my friends call me Mira.”
Is this woman a friend of Mirabelle’s? From the facility?
“She was sold to the farm you were all kept at because she helped me. We’ve been looking for her ever since,” the woman says, letting out a little sigh.
“Is she... okay?” I grunt, my eyes not leaving the screen. Not even to blink.
“I’m definitely not a doctor, but from my understanding, it’s a hormone imbalance. A pretty bad one, at that.”
“They gave... her drugs,” I grunt, remembering the terrible, dark weeks when she was kept away from me. “They hurt her.”
“Yeah, that’s what I assumed,” the woman sighs.
“But she got helped just in time. We managed to stabilize her. And considering all that her body’s been put through, according to the records we were able to find at the facility, she’s in surprisingly good shape.
I think it’s because of the bonds she has with you and her other mates. ”
A satisfied growl vibrates through my chest. It eases the knot that hasn’t left me since Mirabelle got sick.
I did help.
“We did a blood test, you know,” the woman says, flipping the camera back on herself and running a hand through her long black hair.
My growl turns frustrated when I lose sight of Mirabelle.
“Sorry, but I have a meeting I have to run to soon,” she says, pursing her lips. “I’ll make sure you see her soon, though. Promise.”
“You really think that’s a good idea to promise that, Reyna?” Madden asks, flipping the camera back on him alone.
“I do. Those blood tests I mentioned? They confirmed that Mira’s bondmates are her fated mates. The compatibility there leaves no room for anything else other than them being her scent matches.”
The words “fated mates” and “scent matches” float through my brain. They carry obvious importance, based on the way Madden’s shoulders stiffen and his eyes go wide.
“Oh wow.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Okay then,” Madden nods.
“I’ll call Stone, make sure the police who’re waiting back at the hotel know to change their approach if Mira’s other mates make their way back,” she says.
“Thanks, Reyna,” Madden says before the call ends.
The room feels even more silent, even more empty when the call ends, my only link to Mirabelle severed.
“Stone is one of Reyna’s bondmates. He’s the police chief,” Madden explains, pocketing his phone.
“That woman... is she your mate?”
“Reyna? No, not at all, she’s my mate’s best friend, though, so our packs are pretty close,” he explains.
All these dynamics, all these people are confusing. Does Mirabelle being friends with someone make their pack my friends?
“Would you be willing to talk to your pack mates if they show back up?” He asks.
I swallow hard, remembering Mirabelle on that video call. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully. Not in pain. Not like she has been for the past week.
“Fine,” I grunt.
“Great,” Madden says, nodding down to my restraints. “Let me take those off you, then. Thanks for working with us.”