Chapter 12
SKYLAR
Suppressant withdrawal.
I thought I knew what to expect the first couple of days. I remembered my time in Mexico, unaware that it could be any worse than what I experienced back then.
But this is a new kind of hell.
My womb cramps so hard that I choke on sobs. But crying only makes my body tense and worsen the pain.
I can’t eat.
When John comes to take my blood, I stare up at the ceiling, disassociating.
I’m not sure he’s real anymore.
All I do is sweat and shake while he forces aspirin down my throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says as the needle pokes my skin for the hundredth time. “Please don’t be mad at me, Skylar.”
The mattress is soaked in slick.
I feel disgusting. I can smell myself, a combination of musk, sweat, and sickly sweet slick.
One day, I attempt to crawl to the shower, but pass out in the doorway of the bathroom.
I wake up to John slapping my face and shaking me, his eyes frantic as he looms over me.
“Hey. Hey,” he says far too loudly, his pupils huge. “What do you want? What should I do for you?”
The fluorescent lights are harsh against my eyes, so I close them and lay my head back down.
“Summpressnt,” I attempt to slur out.
But it’s useless.
He needs my blood pure to make his drugs.
Even if a part of him cares, the need for money and O outweighs any empathy he might have.
So, I just listen to him whine and ramble.
“I’m really sorry,” he says as I keep my face pressed against the cool linoleum. His voice cracks. “I really want to be a good Alpha for you, Skylar.”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur. “Not an Alpha, though.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I’m grateful someone’s at the door, because it means he’ll finally leave me alone.
I’ve learned that he has the occasional visitor, which I’m assuming means he’s selling his product.
I don’t care anymore.
Eventually, I’ll die, and he won’t have any more product to sell.
Unless he takes another Omega…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Shit,” he hisses, scrambling to his feet. That reaction is expected; he’s always jumpy at anything out of the ordinary.
The knocking continues, so intense I hear the front door rattle on its hinges.
It makes my head hurt.
I try to fall back asleep. I tell myself if I wake up later, then I can have a shower.
Now, I just need to rest.
But shouting catches my attention.
Multiple voices are yelling at once, an argument escalating out of control.
The chain may be gone from my ankle, but I can’t even stand up.
More yelling.
SLAM.
The front door is shaking on its hinges.
Someone is trying to break in.
I can’t find it in myself to care.
But I roll onto my side, take a deep breath, and my body goes rigid as I realize something.
There’s an Alpha here.
My back arches and my teeth clench.
It hurts.
I shake on the floor, my body experiencing an involuntary reaction to the scent.
It’s deep and rich—a hint of delicious leather mixed with dark chocolate.
There’s an Alpha near me with a scent so familiar I could swear I’ve inhaled it before.
Groaning, I force myself up onto my hands and knees. The movement makes my head spin, and I collapse down onto the floor with a grunt, my legs giving out painfully.
I whimper.
I have to get to that scent.
SLAM!
The door rattles again, and John shouts at whoever is trying to get in.
Get up, Skylar. You have to get up.
A voice that isn’t mine, an encouraging, powerful feminine voice, speaks to me.
April’s voice.
My best friend, the one that I haven’t seen in months, whispers in my head.
Get up. You have to get up.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I make it into a crawling position again. This time, I don’t fall. It takes a considerate amount of effort, but I make my way into the room with John’s terrible attempt at a nest.
I collapse with an oof.
SLAM. SLAM.
More shouts.
The door should have given way by now, unless John has barricaded it.
And as I lie on the floor, struggling for breath, my back spasms and my legs cramp.
Another Alpha scent mixes with the previous one.
No, actually…
I count three.
Three familiar, delicious, welcoming aromas, so strong that I’m left with sharp pangs in my womb.
I know them.
They can save me.
A wave of nausea washes over me, and I curl up into a ball on my side as a fresh round of slick pours out of me, drenching the sweatpants I wear.
My throat is dry and dehydrated, so the only sound that comes out of me is a croaky rattle when I try to yell for help.
Get up, Skylar! April demands in my head.
I’m disgusting. I’m a sopping mess, unwashed, with greasy, matted hair and chapped lips. It would be easier to fall back asleep, to live in my filth, and disappear from reality.
But those scents call to me.
Freedom is behind that door—I know that those Alphas will save me.
I can’t remember their names, only their faces. It’s on the tip of my tongue, in the back of my mind?—
The front door finally gives way. I hear the THUMP, followed by John’s screams.
My cracked lips form into a smile.
I hope they kill him.
“POLICE!”
The scents grow stronger, and I drag myself toward the door.
I have to get to them.
I have to?—
The bedroom door bursts open at the same time I collapse from my efforts. I stare up at the ceiling, dazed, as I’m overwhelmed by a delicious, welcoming essence.
Landon, a small voice whispers. Landon’s here.
“Call an ambulance!” His voice cracks, and I struggle to keep my eyes open.
He’s upset. I don’t want him to be upset.
I try to tell him as much, but only a groan leaves my lips.
A spicy scent mixes with Landon’s earthy one.
“Holy fuck,” a voice murmurs, and I recognize it as River.
My Alphas are here.
And they’re both distressed.
I try to tell them I’m fine, that everything is fine now that they’re here, but nothing comes out.
“Is she conscious?” a deeper voice asks, followed by the rich scent I recognized from earlier.
“No, she’s not,” Landon replies, as a hand brushes the hair away from my forehead. I melt into the touch, so familiar and welcoming, unlike the awkward moments with John.
“Sweetheart, hold on for me,” Landon whispers. “Hold on for us.”
A radio beeps, and staticky chatter fills the air. I nuzzle into Landon’s hand, grateful that I’m finally safe.
They came back for me.
They didn’t forget me after all.
Strong arms lift me up, and my head is pressed against a hard, muscled chest.
A deep rumble vibrates, instantly relaxing my stiff muscles and easing the pain in my stomach.
It’s a purr.
“Baby, come on,” Landon whispers, holding me closer to him. “Come on, wake up for me.”
I am awake, I want to say. I can hear you.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” River hisses. “You’re going to prison, you fucking piece of shit!”
Landon holds me tighter, rocking me back and forth. “Hold on, okay?” he murmurs in my ear. “Hold on for us. We need you.”
I hum in his hold. They found me. They came back for me. I’m safe again.
I could swear I hear him murmur something, but I’m asleep before I can piece it together.
It was three words, though.
I remember that.