Sixteen
SIXTEEN
Mia
I SCREAMED AND kicked, aiming a knee at the groin of the beta who’d grabbed me. He cursed and lashed out with a closed fist. Pain exploded across my left cheekbone, setting off flashbulbs in my vision.
His grip on my hoodie dragged me off balance. I couldn’t see Luca... couldn’t hear him.
“Nice try, bitch,” snarled the man holding me.
He gave me a rough shake, like a dog with a floppy rope toy. It felt like my brain was sloshing around inside my skull. I couldn’t seem to get my bearings; couldn’t get my feet underneath me to steady myself. I drew breath to scream for help again, with no idea if anyone in this terrible place would have the slightest interest in intervening.
“Help!” I shrieked. “ Someone help !”
My captor shoved me hard against the wall where I’d been cowering moments before, the impact jarring through my back and knocking the breath from my lungs.
“Ain’t no one coming to help your skinny ass, you ugly omega ho.” The beta’s breath was foul as it wafted into my face, gagging me.
A grunt came from nearby. Was that Luca? I tried to set myself and deliver another knee to the balls, but my legs felt like jelly. My vision wavered as I struggled for breath.
Out of nowhere, a heavy weight slammed into the man pinning me to the wall. He cried out, his grip on my hoodie yanking so hard before he lost purchase that I tumbled sideways, my body crashing to the cracked concrete floor.
Unexpectedly freed, I looked up, wheezing, and saw a dark blur pummeling a lighter blur. After blinking my vision into better focus, the dark blur resolved into Emiel—still barefoot, but with a blue satin boxing robe thrown over his trunks as he rage-beat my attacker to a bloody pulp.
I gaped up at him as he let the beta fall limply from his grasp in favor of grabbing the two alphas who were manhandling Luca. Emiel tore them away from the omega, spinning them around to face him.
Luca staggered back, gasping. But instead of running, he pulled something out of his pocket and hauled off, slamming it into the back of the nearest alpha’s skull. The man went down without a sound, just as Emiel fell on the remaining alpha like a wild animal.
The ugly sound of flesh thumping against flesh echoed in the corridor, until the last attacker slumped to the ground, joining his fellows. Emiel turned to the alpha I’d pepper sprayed earlier and delivered a brutal kick to his ribs, curling him into a whimpering fetal position.
For the first time since we’d been accosted, my attention expanded beyond my immediate surroundings. A handful of other people were in the hallway, hanging back uncertainly as though they weren’t sure if they were supposed to jump into the fight or stay the hell out of it.
Strong fingers wrapped around my bicep, pulling me to my feet.
“ Move ,” Emiel said, the barked word jolting along my overstretched nerves.
I moved, staggering after the alpha who held my arm in one large hand and Luca’s in the other. The men who’d been stationed at the entrance when we came in were nowhere to be seen. Emiel shoved the door open with his foot and tugged us outside.
The cool night air hit me like a slap, the skin beneath my left eye throbbing painfully.
“Where’s your car?” Emiel growled.
I craned around to catch a glance of Luca. His face was so pale that it glowed like a beacon in the dim moonlight. His eyes had a dazed and absent look that said he wasn’t going to be giving anyone directions, much less driving us out of here.
I tried to hammer my neurons into some kind of functioning order, thinking back to our arrival. “Over there,” I quavered, pointing toward the edge of the overgrown parking area. “Emiel, Luca can’t drive right now.”
Emiel followed my gesture and gave a grunt in response. There was another problem, though—I didn’t think I could drive us safely either. My head was pounding, and I felt like I might pass out.
Emiel led us to the white Nissan Leaf and let me go, propping me against the passenger side as he turned to Luca.
“ Keys ,” he said, and Luca fumbled dumbly in his pocket, pulling out his keyring and handing it over without seeming to be aware of his surroundings at all.
Emiel took the keys and unlocked the car. He urged me into the back seat and pushed Luca in after me. With the doors safely closed on us, he climbed into the driver’s seat with a hiss of discomfort. A moment later, the front seat slid back, nearly knocking me in the knees.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
The car chimed cheerfully at us as he started it up, then rolled silently out of its parking spot and turned, heading for the distant lights of St. Claire Avenue. I realized, with a sort of fuzzy surprise, that we were safe.
“What about your car?” I rasped, not at all sure that any vehicle left behind outside the factory would still be there in the morning.
“Took a cab to get there,” Emiel muttered.
I let that sink in, my brain ticking off any remaining threats before apparently deciding that it was done for the night, thank you very much, and it planned to throw in the towel. Beside me, Luca sat silent and shaking.
Our shoulders brushed in the cramped backseat. Instinct had my body turning further into his even as he turned toward me. Somehow, without really intending it, I found myself clinging to him, my throbbing face pressed into the crook of his neck. He buried his nose in my hair, breathing unsteadily against me.
We stayed like that as the car merged onto the highway, heading back across the river. Gradually, an unfamiliar scent threaded through the unpleasant haze of sweat and terrified omega. It was sweet and tart and complex, tickling my nose until my chef’s mind reluctantly coughed up the words bergamot and cinnamon to describe it.
Something about that scent wove its way into my hindbrain, wrapping reassurance around the dregs of sick panic. I shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, aware that my muscles would be screaming their displeasure in a few hours. Something hard jabbed me in the hip. I freed a hand from its grip on Luca’s hoodie and grasped the unfamiliar object—about eight inches long, with a leather-wrapped handle and a heavily weighted round end.
It looked like something a mafia enforcer would carry in a movie. A blackjack ... was that the word? I remembered Luca swinging something at one of our attackers’ heads right after Emiel had arrived, and a convulsive shiver wracked me.
I’d had my pepper spray. Apparently, Luca had this . I let it drop into the footwell and clutched at him again, closing my eyes. What would have happened to us if Emiel hadn’t showed up?
The smooth ribbon of the highway gave way to start and stop traffic with more frequent turns. I let the complicated scent of spicy bergamot and the warmth of Luca’s body lull me into a fugue, even as the memory of what had happened played over and over in a continuous loop inside my skull.
Eventually, the car slowed to a crawl and turned into a long, winding driveway. It pulled to a stop, and I dragged my eyes open. The left one felt so swollen that it barely opened a crack. Outside stood a familiar two-story Neo-Georgian mansion, coach lights illuminating the entryway with a warm and welcoming yellow glow.
“We’re home.” Emiel’s voice sounded strained. “Sorry. Stay here a minute. I’ll get Zalen.”
Luca didn’t react. It took me a few seconds to realize that Emiel didn’t think we could get to the front door without help... and a moment more to realize that he was probably right.
“Okay,” I said hoarsely, trying not to examine the relief I felt that he’d brought me here, and not to the restaurant in Soulard where my car was parked. Or worse yet, to my house .
The driver’s door creaked open, and Emiel paused for a second before heaving himself out of the vehicle. He staggered a bit, catching himself against the side of the car. The suspension rocked under his weight. With an unpleasant lurch, I remembered that he’d had the shit beaten out of him in that cage tonight—and that was before he’d tackled three men and knocked out two of them singlehandedly.
He trudged up the cobblestone walkway with slow steps, still barefoot and wearing only his satin boxing robe and trunks. I wondered, with a brief and unpleasant twinge, what would have happened if the police had pulled us over on the way back.
Emiel reached the door and leaned against the frame as he fumbled Luca’s key into the lock and opened it. He disappeared inside, leaving it standing open in the cool night breeze.
“Luca?” I whispered, hoping he was in better shape than I was when it came to things like needing to walk thirty feet from the car to the house. His only response was to grip me tighter against his body.
Zalen came jogging out of the house, hurrying toward us. He, too, was barefoot—wearing low-slung sleep pants and a gray T-shirt. He wrenched open the rear passenger door and leaned in. Luca flinched hard, only to relax when the scent of lime and vanilla wafted inside.
“ Christ ,” Zalen said. “Are you two hurt?” He had the groggy look of someone who’d been unexpectedly dragged from a sound sleep. His dreadlocks fell loose around his worried features. “Oh, god, Mia. Your face . Come on, let’s get you both inside.”
He helped Luca out of the car, slinging one of the smaller man’s arms over his broad shoulders. Then he reached in, offering his free hand to me. I took it, letting him support some of my weight as I carefully stood up on trembling legs.
“Easy,” Zalen said as I clutched his bicep, leaning on him as the three of us began to hobble slowly toward the door.
Emiel, also moving at a snail’s pace, met us partway and reached out an arm as though to take Luca off Zalen’s hands. Zalen came to an abrupt halt, his muscles stiffening. His clean alpha scent sharpened with anger.
“What the fuck , Emiel?” he snapped. “I’ve looked the other way for years when it came to this cage fighting shit! But involving omegas ? Letting them get hurt ? Seriously, what the actual fuck !”
Luca and I both cringed inward at the sound of an angry alpha’s bark. A small whimper escaped me, completely against my will.
Derailed, Zalen flinched and glanced down at us, his expression stricken.