Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
“Call him again!” I shout, barely keeping myself from throwing the glass I’m clutching like a lifeline at Harvey.
“I’ve called four times!” he yells back in his raspy voice. “He didn’t answer. You think that’s not purposeful? Slime is avoiding my calls, no doubt because Athena has asked him to. I can’t force him to pick up the phone.”
My bond cries in my chest, and my skin crawls. It’s been twelve hours since Athena disappeared from her hospital room. That’s twelve hours without my Omega.
This is the longest we’ve been apart since we were rescued, and it’s excruciating.
I don’t know how much longer I can take this. If we don’t find Athena soon, I’m going to use the bond like a homing beacon and scour the city for her.
I can’t be without her.
“She doesn’t want us,” Charles whispers, his face buried in his hands. “We failed her. We’re shitty Alphas.”
“She’s hurt,” Sebass says slowly. “But that doesn’t mean we’ve lost her. It means we need to show her that this is where she’s supposed to be.”
“Is it, though?” I sneer. “How can you say this is where she’s supposed to be when all of you ignored her needs? There are four of you! I’m not sure if you’re aware, but four is divisible by two! I knew you all were thick, but I didn’t think you were idiots.”
“Enough!” Wyatt barks, jumping to his feet and slapping the table. His command washes over me, and for the first time since I was changed, I truly feel like an Omega, because I have no hope of ignoring it. An embarrassing whine escapes me, which only makes me angrier.
I go to yell at him, to tell him exactly what I think he should do with his bark, when he holds his hand out, cutting me off.
“You’re upset with us, and you have every right to be. But insulting us helps no one. It doesn’t get us any closer to getting her back. She left with her brother, so that’s where we’ll find her. Sebastian,” he points at the blond Alpha, “how is it going with finding their address?”
“Poorly,” he admits. “Cyrus Knight is a celebrity, so they’ve got shit locked down. But I’ll find it.”
“You better,” I remind him. “Or you all can kiss both of your Omegas goodbye.”
I’m serious, too.
If she won’t come back to them, neither will I.
There is no me without her.
We are two halves of a whole.
“We’d deserve it.” Charles rests his elbows on the dining table. “We are pathetic excuses for Alphas. We don’t deserve either of you.”
Even though I essentially said the same thing, I don’t like hearing it from Charles. It makes my stomach hurt.
I know Charles doesn’t want me sexually or romantically, but that doesn’t mean he’s not my Alpha. I may not be able to scent him, but I can feel it in my bones. I need him like I need the others.
I’m not sure how that will work out when I’m in heat, but that is a problem for future Atlas. I have enough to deal with at the moment.
“We can’t go back in time,” Harvey says, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of his shirt, tapping it on the heel of his hand.
“All we can do is make sure she knows we want her. Not as an extension of Atlas. Not as a bonus or a buy-one-get-one-free deal. But for her. For who she is.”
Sebass’s shoulders slump. “And how are we going to do that? We barely know her. She doesn’t know us at all.”
“Okay, so we get to know her,” Harvey responds, pulling a cigarette from the pack and hanging it off the corner of his mouth. “And show her who we are.”
Charles plucks the cigarette from his mouth and breaks it in half. “Quit smoking. It’s not good for you, and it’s not good for our Omegas.”
“Ah, yes, the sensitive little Omega who looks like he’s about to punch me between the eyes,” Harvey drawls. I look down at my clenched fists.
I wouldn’t actually punch Harvey. But I’m not going to lie; it’s tempting.
“How do you suppose we’re going to show her who we are if we can’t find her?” Wyatt asks, taking off his ball cap and bending the brim with his hands. “Skywriting? A billboard?”
“We could take out an ad in the personal section,” Sebass quips. “‘Four stupid Alphas seek one traumatized Omega willing to give them another chance.’ I think that’d go over well.”
Nausea rises in my throat. One single plasma treatment wasn’t enough to fix whatever is causing my blood to thicken. I know I’ll need another tomorrow, and so will Athena. Her brother won’t let her miss it, because if I’m feeling sick, I know she is too.
But do I tell the guys that I suspect she’ll be at the hospital? Or do I slip out and go on my own?
Looking around at the Alphas, I realize that despite our history together, I have no loyalty to them.
Only to her.
“We’ll take you back now, Mr. Cassidy,” the nurse says, making one of those “come on back” gestures with his hand. “We’ve got the room all set up for you.”
My knuckles whiten on the cheap plastic seat in the outpatient clinic’s waiting room.
I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here on my own.
I know I’m not back there, that I’m safe, but tell that to my prefrontal cortex.
It’s certain that the moment I step into that room, I’m going to be back there in the cold, echoing warehouse, hooked up to machines in their twisted lab for hours on end.
It feels like a betrayal to Athena and to myself that my gut aches for my Alphas to be here and protect me. I’ve never needed protection before, and yet right now, all I want is to be sheltered in their arms with her by my side.
“Dr. Knight is here today, so he’ll come check in on you soon.”
Little victories. When we were admitted, Athena’s brother put himself on my chart as my consulting physician, which means he will come in here and I’ll be able to ask about my Omega.
I lower myself onto the hospital bed, lying back at a glacial pace. The nurse is patient, but I don’t think he understands the gravity of this situation.
Sometimes, I feel like my trauma is written on my forehead in permanent marker. That every time someone looks at me, they see the worst moments of my life, the way my soul has been blackened and twisted.
It seems almost cruel that on the outside, I look like the same man I was a month ago.
Shouldn’t they be able to tell that I am nothing but a tangled mess of the threads of my torture?
“Could you,” I start, my voice thick, “maybe give me something for anxiety?”
Fuck, it hurt a little to ask for that.
He’s being kind in not calling attention to the low-level whine that I’ve been making since I entered this room, so maybe he’ll be understanding and not judge me too harshly for needing the help.
“I’ll ask Dr. Knight to get you some. Do you think you’re okay to start without it?” The nurse is cute, a Beta with curly black hair that’s kept shorn short. His dark eyes are kind, and the downturned corners of his mouth show he has a legitimate concern for my well-being and isn’t faking it.
I want to say I am okay to continue without the meds. I do. That feels like the answer I’m supposed to give. It’s what is expected of a guy like me.
But I can’t.
I can’t say that, because looking at the wires and tubes hooked up to the large machine is making my palms sweat. My vision flashes, images of that hell I spent weeks in superimposing themselves onto the very real room I’m in.
“No,” I tell him, ducking my head. “I can’t. I…”
“You don’t have to justify yourself, Mr. Cassidy,” he says kindly. “Plenty of people are afraid of medical interventions. Especially Omegas.”
He pats me on the shoulder and walks out of the room, and I fight back a shout.
Especially Omegas, he says.
Is that what I can expect for the rest of my life? To have my legitimate fears and concerns reduced to, “It’s because he’s an Omega”?
I know how they see Omegas in this world. I’ve witnessed the way society infantilizes them, assumes they need protecting. I tried my best not to fall into that trap, but I’m sure I have at some point. It’s inevitable with the way we are socialized.
I never thought I’d be in this position, that this would be my reality. My whole life, I knew I was a Beta. My parents were Betas. All of my siblings are Betas.
There was never a thought that I would be anything but.
Yet here I am, with instincts I don’t want and barely understand, my chest aching for my bondmate, and my mind screaming at me to find my Alphas, to let them care for me, touch me, pamper me.
But I can’t, because they hurt Athena. They let her think she was unwanted.
And she is wanted. So so much.
It takes almost twenty minutes before Icarus comes into my room, running his hand through his already messy hair.
“Atlas,” he says neutrally. “How are you feeling?”
I know, in the back of my mind, that he’s not angry with me about what went down in the hospital, but that doesn’t stop these new Omega instincts from making me want to show my belly to the Alpha. He may not be mine, but I recognize the dominance he puts off in waves.
Dr. Icarus Knight may look like an unassuming, awkward man, but he’s easily one of the strongest Alphas I’ve ever come in contact with.
“Honestly? Not great.” I tighten my arms around my chest, unable to make eye contact with him. “I can’t do this. It’s like I’m back there.”
I don’t need to elaborate. He knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“I figured as much. I had to sedate Athena. Would you like me to do the same for you?”
It’s so tempting. I hear oblivion is nice this time of year. Peaceful. I could go to sleep and wake up when the treatment is over.
But if I do that, I may lose my chance of getting my Omega back.
“I don’t think so. Could I have something to take the edge off, though?”
“I can do that. I’ll be right back.”
Before I can lose my nerve, I call out, “Wait.” He halts his progress toward the door and raises an eyebrow at me. “Can I be with Athena?”
I can see the conflict in his eyes. He wants to protect her, like any big brother would. But eventually, he dips his head in a nod. “I know what happened is not your fault. You were no more aware than she was. Come with me.”
Sliding off the bed, I follow him out of the room. I was only three doors away from my Omega.
When I lay eyes on her, my heart stutters in my chest. She’s so beautiful, and looks peaceful as she rests in the bed, wires and tubes hooked up to her body. I have to fight not to rush to her, to check that her chest is rising and falling.
I don’t wait for Icarus’s approval. I climb into the bed next to her, wrapping my body around her soft curves. The moment I touch her, I feel the broken parts of me knitting back together.
I’ll do whatever it takes to stay by her side.
When Icarus and another doctor come into the room, pushing a machine beside the bed and gently taking my arm and placing an IV, I don’t flinch.
I can survive anything with my goddess in my arms.