Chapter 11 #2
Nearby, Sawyer sits on a kitchen stool while an EMT leans over him. They carefully peel the blood-soaked charcoal fabric away from the gash in his side. Sawyer ignores the guy's hands and stares at Roman, his lips pulling back to show his teeth in a snarl.
"Try to keep that promise, Roman, and I will finish what the fire started fifteen years ago."
A police sergeant in a navy uniform steps forward, his face set in a hard scowl. He points a gloved finger at Roman and then looks at a patrolman. "Officer Miller, get this trash out of my sight. Put him in the back of the car and keep him there until I finish my sweep of the unit."
The patrol officer hauls Roman upward by his arm and leads him toward the elevator. Roman flinches as the officer shoves him forward, his calm mas slipping. The metal doors slide shut, but Roman's words hang in the air. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat.
The EMT reaches for a pair of trauma shears to cut through the fabric of the security uniform. Sawyer blocks the guy's hand. He grips the hem of his ruined shirt and yanks it over his head in one fluid, but violent motion. He tosses the bloody cloth onto the floor without a second thought.
The light from the kitchen pendants hit Sawyer's bare torso.
I look away at first, but my gaze catches on his side.
My heart stops in my chest. A dark tattoo sits on the side of his ribs, the ink sharp against his pale skin.
A skull and crossbones, but the eye sockets of the skull lack the usual hollow darkness.
Small red hearts fill the space instead.
The room spins as I recognize that specific ink. I’ve stared at it on a high-definition screen during every Saturday RAA session. My heart hammers with a sound that drowns out the noise of the emergency teams.
I retreat to the sofa and pull a gray wool blanket over my shoulders. A cold sweat breaks out all over while my hands shake. Urie follows me and opens his medical bag on the coffee table. He reaches for my wrist to check my pulse, but I pull away from his touch.
Across the room, the EMT leans closer to Sawyer and tightens a pressure bandage over the wound. "You need a hospital, sir. This gash looks deep, and we need to get you stitches."
Sawyer growls, his gaze staying fixed on me. "Just patch it. I refuse to leave her side tonight."
The EMT sighs and pulls a notebook from his pocket to document the scene. "I can't force you to go, but I need your legal name for my report on the refusal of care."
Sawyer glances at me. "Dameon Wolph"
The name hits me as I connect the chief of security to the man from my Saturday sessions and the boy I played pirates with in the Cross-Sterling home's yard.
I look toward Reid by the balcony and then shift my gaze to Urie and Ethan.
If Sawyer is in the role of Saturday, then these other men must be the remaining Sunday, Tuesday, and Friday.
I lack the information to know which man belongs to which profile, but the reality of the situation remains clear.
The Alphas from the site stand right here in my living room when they're suppose to be safe Betas.
I watch Reid and Dameon talking to the sergeant. They speak in low tones, but the silence of the room carries their words to my ears.
"We have the unit under surveillance," Reid says, his voice flat and professional. "The cameras caught the entire breach. The footage provides enough evidence for the attempted murder charge."
The words settle in my gut like lead. I look at the ceiling and scan the smoke detectors and the light fixtures. They watched me every day I’ve been here. They’ve probably watched me masturbate to the sessions I’ve had with them.
They lied about everything from the very beginning.
Anger flares in my chest. I want to scream at them and throw the blanket at their faces, and run out of this building. They built a cage and called it a nest. They watched me like a lab rat.
But as the police leave and the room grows quiet, a different sensation pulls at my lower belly. A warmth coils in my core. The stress, the trauma, and the Alphas I now realize are all around me hit my system all at once.
Shit, it triggered my heat to start early.
The scent of the room changes, replaced by something sweet. My scent fills the air; I’m perfuming, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
My inner Omega doesn't care about the lies or the betrayal.
It doesn't care about the hidden cameras.
It only needs the four Alphas in the room.
It wants the protection and the knots they can offer.
I look at Sawyer—no, Dameon—as he turns toward me, his nostrils flaring as he catches the change in the air.
Fuck, I want them. I want them so bad it hurts.
Logic and desire tug at my brain. God, I don’t want to go through yet another heat without an Alpha.
I’m a knot-virgin, and I want to give my body what it wants once.
They’ve been lying and using me, why shouldn’t I use them back and then get the hell out of here?