Chapter 13
LANDON
The mobile homesmelled so strongly of Omega that I was sure he was keeping more than one here.
But no, it was just Skylar, her scent so warped and sickly-sweet that I wasn’t sure it was her.
Briggs had the audacity to try to barricade the door with furniture, as if that wouldn’t only delay the inevitable and add more to his list of charges.
But judging by the baking tray full of O and the makeshift lab in his kitchen, he hasn’t been thinking clearly for a long time.
I thought Skylar was dead when I broke down the door to that hellish room and saw her frail body on the floor.
Her skin is paper white and her body is nothing but bones. Slick and other fluids stain her baggy clothing.
But she’s alive. The moment I held her to me, I listened to her heartbeat and purred for her. I don’t even know if she realizes she’s in my arms.
Vincent enters the room, his eyes briefly falling to Skylar. The hardened expression on his face softens.
“She’s going to make it,” he says solemnly. “It will be fine.”
I’m not sure who he’s trying to comfort, himself or me, but I’m grateful. “Your hunch was right,” I say.
He scoffs and turns his attention to the room Skylar was held in. There is a chain next to the mattress connected to a pole in the corner of the room, and he nudges it with his foot. “Shit,” he mutters. “He kept her chained up until she was too weak to need it,” he muses.
I swallow. This isn’t the worst thing we’ve seen by far. But it happened to Skylar, which makes it personal.
It’s a different kind of horror. It’s the crippling fear that I’d lost her forever, that I would never know what happened to her.
But she’s alive.
Every instinct in me screams to kill John Briggs. To hell with the justice system. All rational thought leaves my mind when it comes to the Omega in my arms.
I grip her tighter, knowing that in the end, harming Briggs would make it much harder on everyone.
And if River can keep it together, then I can, too.
Vincent continues into the bathroom, standing in the doorway.
“She slept here,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. Clinical, like he used to be at any scene. “Blankets are here with her scent and slick.”
My stomach churns. “I’m so sorry we didn’t find you sooner,” I whisper to her.
The room is a mess. It’s musty, the air thick with grime and sour fluids. Food wrappers and empty water bottles surround the spoiled mattress, and dirty bowls litter the room.
It’s like he barely tried to keep her alive.
River’s shouts echo from the other room.
“We found an apron from the café on his other property,” Vincent says, as if explaining River’s outburst. “It’s not Skylar’s. River assumes it belongs to April.”
My eyes widen. “He might know where she is,” I add.
“So far, Briggs has denied everything. His story now is that Skylar wanted to be here and that she was an O addict.”
A growl sounds in my throat. “Of course,” I spit. “What a surprise.”
River storms into the room, and his eyes widen when he sees Skylar. “Oh fuck,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees beside her. “Oh, fuck.”
He brings a shaky hand to her forehead. “I…I need to hold her,” he says quietly, unable to look at me. “I have to.”
It takes everything in me to not argue. I don’t want to let Skylar go. I’m purring for her. It’s my Alpha instincts that she needs.
But River matters to her, too, and we have a truce.
So, as painful as it is, I clear my throat and allow River to take her into his arms.
Vincent watches us from the corner of the room, a hint of longing on his face.
Just as quickly, it leaves his eyes, and he’s back to his stoic, emotionless self.