4. Hailey
Chapter 4
Hailey
T he blindfold scratches against my eyelids, rough fabric digging into the tender skin where my tears have dried.
Not again. Not again. Not ? —
The van hits a pothole, jolting me sideways. A hairy arm brushes against mine, the beta guard’s scent—sweat and cheap cologne—flooding my nose. I shrink away, but there’s nowhere to go. The ties around my wrists bite deeper with every movement, the plastic zip-cuffs rubbing my skin raw.
Just like before .
The thought slams into me like a fist. Just like before. Blindfolded. Restrained. The same suffocating fear clotting my throat.
Only this time, there’s no escape.
Finn’s blood flashes behind my closed eyelids. That terrible crack as the masked alpha’s fist connected with his temple. The way his body folded like a puppet with cut strings.
My fault .
The words circle like vultures in my skull. My fault. My fault. My fault.
If I hadn’t panicked at the gala?—
If I’d kept my mouth shut when I recognized Veyra’s voice?—
If I’d just controlled my reaction and not freaked out, I?—
“Don’t bother screaming,” the beta mutters. His knee knocks against mine as the van takes another turn. “No way you’re leaving our sight this time.”
A whimper escapes before I can choke it back.
This time .
Because last time, there’d been chaos. Last time, I’d been lucky.
This time, there’s only the endless rumble of tires on asphalt, every mile taking me farther from?—
Finn’s unconscious body on the pavement .
They’ll blame me. Of course they will. Stone, Jax, Ren…
The van accelerates, pressing me back against the seat. My stomach lurches. Not from motion sickness, but from the realization settling like lead in my gut:
Widow won .
She’s even more powerful than I thought. Going against her would be like committing suicide. Stone, Ren, and Jax…they won’t come for me. I’m all alone.
Again.
“ Finn won’t blame m e,” a small voice whispers. Then the zip-cuffs cut deeper, and the thought drowns in fear.
A shudder wracks my body.
The beta chuckles. “Scared, omega? You should be.” His fingers close around my chin, forcing my head up. “Seems you weren’t ready for your new master after all. Widow’s been waiting a long time to finish your training.”
Training.
The word sends ice down my spine. I know what “training” means at the Academy. The cold metal beneath my knees. The alpha voices barking orders. The?—
No. No no no ?—
The van slows. Gravel crunches under the tires. My pulse skyrockets, sweat blooming along my hairline.
Too soon. It’s too soon.
A gate creaks open. The van rolls forward, then stops.
“End of the line,” the beta says.
The door slides open with a metallic shriek. Hands grab me, yanking me forward. I stumble, my knees buckling as my feet hit uneven ground. My ankle twists in the wedge heels and I’m pretty sure my dress, the beautiful dress Finn picked out for me, rips.
Finn…
My heart feels like it’s going into cardiac arrest.
I’ll never see Finn again.
“Walk.” A new voice. Female. Beta.
I don’t move fast enough.
Something hard jabs between my shoulder blades—a baton?—sending me sprawling face-first into the dirt. Pebbles embed themselves in my palms. The taste of copper floods my mouth where I’ve bitten my tongue.
Laughter rings out above me.
“Still fat and clumsy, I see.” The female beta clicks her tongue. “Widow will fix that. Oh, will she be happy to finally get her hands on you again.”
Hands haul me up. My legs shake, but I force myself to stand. To take one step. Then another.
The air changes—cooler, damp. We’re inside.
The scent hits me first: antiseptic and omega distress, so thick I gag. Memories surge?—
Strapped to a table.
Needles glinting under bright lights.
“This will help you feel better,” the beta in scrubs lied.
A door creaks open ahead. The female beta shoves me forward. My toe catches on a threshold, sending me crashing onto unforgiving tile.
The blindfold is ripped away.
I blink against the sudden light, my eyes watering. When my vision clears, I wish it hadn’t.
White walls. Stainless steel tables. IV poles with dangling bags of clear liquid.
A shadow blocks the fluorescent light. Not Veyra—someone shorter, broader. A beta.
Him.
I don’t know his name. I never saw his face. But the way his boots scuff against the tile—that uneven drag of the left heel—sends ice through my veins. I’d know that sound anywhere. The last thing I’d hear before the blindfold tightened and the needles came out.
“Well, well.” His voice slithers into my ears, that same faux-sweet tone coated in venom. “Look who came home.”
My body remembers what my mind wants to forget. The way he’d hum show tunes while strapping me down. How his breath always smelled of peppermint gum, like he was trying to cover up something rotten inside.
The female beta shoves me forward. “Widow wants her prepped for?—”
“I know what Widow wants.” Peppermint and copper flood my nose as he grips my chin. His thumb digs into the hinge of my jaw—his favorite pressure point. “Missed you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart . The word on his tongue is a violation. That’s Stone’s word. Jax’s word. Ren’s word. Their word for me, warm and safe and mine . Not this. Not him .
I spit blood at his boots.
For half a heartbeat, the room freezes. I’m shocked myself. In all those years of “reform,” I never fought back. Not like this.
Then his laugh crawls up my spine, the same one he’d make when adjusting the straps that would pry my legs apart. “Oh-ho. The rabbit grew teeth.” He wipes his boot on my torn dress. “Let’s see how many Widow pulls out.”