Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Valor
W e have an issue.
A big motherfucking problem.
Nothing I’ve ever scented smells like the omega currently devouring the sandwich and crisps she found in the bagged lunch that she grabbed from the cooler.
Omen sits on the seat next to her, but I’ve kept my big ass on the opposite side of the table. After a strenuous workout, all I wanted was a hot meal and a shower.
I’m still confused why she didn’t eat from the hot bar. It’s always filled with much heartier options.
I burned a few extra calories teaching Sergei and Vlad an important lesson about keeping their fucking hands to themselves, but I’m sure the guards are going to make us all suffer for that.
Even thinking about the Russian assholes makes my fists clench.
They should know better.
They’ve been here long enough to understand the rules.
Even when I’m fully rabid, I understand the concept of consent. That’s not something that just disappears from your consciousness, unless you never had any intention of being a decent human being to start with.
Holding the bag of ice to my eye, I watch the gorgeous woman shove several crisps into her mouth. I suppose she would call those chips . She’s American, that much is clear from her accent, but she doesn’t have the hardened shell that most omegas who come to the facility have.
It’s none of my business.
I’ve learned my lesson about staying out of other people’s affairs.
Omen must be poking at my thoughts in the bond. An obnoxious laugh slips from his lips, and I roll my eyes. The move doesn’t feel great, considering the kick Vlad got to my eye socket. The one on the side of my skull hurts considerably less, but he got lucky with the second slam of his boot.
The mask protected me from the brunt of it, but that fucker tried his best to break my nose.
“Am I allowed to grab another of these?” the omega asks, shoving the last bite of sandwich into her mouth.
“Of course.” Omen pushes himself out of his seat and stands next to her. “Another turkey, or would you like to branch out?”
She brings a hand up to block her chewing. “The same thing, please.”
My partner takes off, and I meet her gaze.
“Be careful. If you overdo it, you’ll make yourself sick.”
She nods, pulling her hand down.
A pretty pink flush dances over her cheeks and the bridge of her pert nose.
Damn, she even has nice lips.
“Thank you. I didn’t think about that, but I’m sure you’re right.” Her eyes dart around, and she leans forward, keeping her voice low. “I was hoping I could speak with the two of you. Maybe somewhere more private?”
That’s a bad fucking idea. She needs to take herself back to the women’s wing and far away from me. We’re entirely too compatible for me to be anywhere close to her without an audience.
I know my core values, but I don’t trust myself anymore. Ever since the rot set in, I lose time. It’s dangerous for me to be around anyone who can’t protect themselves.
I don’t get to voice my concerns.
The facility alarm rips through the air, sounding a thousand times louder in the open space of the cafeteria.
Saylor jolts, her ass leaving the seat as her hands land on the table.
Fuck.
I figured it was coming.
Although I didn’t expect it to be this soon.
Vlad and Sergei must have been in worse shape than I thought. That, or their benefactor doesn’t want to take any chances.
“Grab your food. We have to go now.” I push myself up, wondering why she’s not already in motion.
She has short legs .
There’s no way I’ll be able to get her to her room across the block and get back to my cell before they lock the doors. That particular buzzer is the ninety-second warning, and they don’t fuck around if you’re caught outside one of the rooms.
They will tranq your ass.
“Go where?” she asks, gathering her trash, like she’s about to walk it to one of the garbage cans.
“Your cell, but we have to hurry or I’ll never make it back to mine before lockdown.” Stomping around the table, I move to pick her up. “My legs are longer. I’ll carry you.”
She doesn’t fight me as I heft her into my arms. “No. I’m going with the two of you. It’s safest.”
Is she daft?
Being locked in for possibly days with a rabid alpha is not the safest option when it comes to anything.
I spin to check where Maggie is.
Only, her hair bounces around her back as she guides her group toward the women’s wing.
Omen jogs my way with his arms loaded down with bagged lunches, drinks, and snacks. Although they feed us three meals a day when we’re locked down, they’re punishment rations, and they’re never very appetizing.
No one will be particularly pleased with me once they release us from our cells, but that’s barely a thought in my mind.
“If you’re planning to drag me to my cell, then you better be ready to come inside with me,” the insane woman says, slapping my shoulder.
I growl, baring my teeth.
Her eyes widen, and she smacks me again. “Don’t do that. It’s rude. It seems like you need to decide quickly. Everyone else scurried away, and my room only has one twin-sized cot.”
My head falls back, and I grumble, “Fuck.”
* * *
“What are you doing?” I ask, snatching the door handle to the room I share with Omen.
“I’m not sure.” The omega squirms, planting her hands on my shoulders. She attempts to rearrange herself, and my instincts are convinced that she’s trying to escape. My hold on her hip tightens as I get us into the room.
Keeping my boot against the door, I make sure it’s propped open and move to place Saylor on her feet. She doesn’t release my shirt, and it keeps me bent over at an awkward angle.
“Go sit down somewhere,” I instruct, moving to pry her hands off my T-shirt. “I’ve got to keep this open in case Omen doesn’t make it.”
It will produce another alarm, and the guards will come investigate, but as long as it’s closed by the time they do their pass by, they’ve never fucked with us.
“Or you could just let me smell you,” she hisses, relocating her hands to my waist. She’s strong for such a little thing, and she pulls with enough force, it almost causes me to lose my footing.
“Enough!” I snarl, close to her face. “Omen can’t be caught outside when that door locks.”
“I don’t see what it hurts to let me sniff your sweat. It’s not like I’m going to block him from coming in.”
“You’re a spoiled brat.” My hand wraps around her lower back, pulling her flush with my front.
I flatten against the door and scan the hallway, ignoring the way she rubs her face around the sweaty material of my shirt.
Omen skids around the corner, and a bottle of water goes flying off the oversized bin he’s got in his arms. He frowns at the water, making his whitish-blond hair fall into his eyes, but he doesn’t stop to pick it up.
He jogs down the hall as the few stragglers to the left close their doors, and he makes it just as the obnoxious wailing leaves the speakers to signal someone’s door didn’t latch.
My partner slips past us with his chest heaving, and I pick up the little omega, using my hand on her lower back and the other on her hip.
I bring us fully inside the room as the heavy door closes and clicks when the lock engages.
That feels a lot like the lamb just got locked away with the lions .
* * *
Saylor spins around at the sound of Omen dropping the heavy bin onto the floor of our room. She doesn’t move away, and I frown down at her, trying to determine why she’s still invading my personal space.
Nearly everyone I come across can sense the threat, and they keep their distance accordingly, but not this tiny woman. Fine, she’s average-sized or a bit taller than average, but I’m a giant. Everyone seems small compared to me.
“What happens now?” she asks as Omen collects the drinks and food he grabbed. He lines it up on the small two-person table just inside the doorway.
He chuckles, shrugging. “Now we see how long they intend to punish us this time.”
“What’s in the bin?” she asks, grimacing.
I’m still surprised he risked stopping by one of the supply rooms, but he must really want to impress our guest.
“This?” He does an over-the-top presentation, gesturing to the container. “Just a few courting gifts, facility style.”
“Christ,” I mutter, bringing a hand up to unclip my mask.
I never got to eat when she did.
It might be dangerous to be around the omega unmasked, but I’m starving.
If I’ve learned anything over the past year, it’s that I stay mentally clearer when I keep my body as close to homeostasis as I can get it.
It’s why I’m so rigid with my schedule.
I exercise, eat, and sleep at set times to ensure my system knows what to expect.
This place is claustrophobic with just the two of us. I don’t have the first fucking clue how we’re going to manage with three.
The room isn’t tiny.
It’s not spacious either.
The wall to the right is fully see-through. It’s made of some type of impenetrable glass or plastic that I don’t know the name for, but it’s got a glaze that protects it from breaking.
The far-left wall is the same material and has a view of the cell on the other side. That one is currently unoccupied, but it’s only a matter of time before someone takes over it, especially if the omega sticks around. They’ll want to be able to watch her, even if they can’t touch.
If you’re standing in front of the entry door, the small two-person table is directly in front of you.
Ripping off my mask, I toss it down next to the bags of food.
Omen shoves the bin behind the chair in the area between the glass wall and the first loft.
That’s the bed I normally sleep in. It’s a cubby design and takes up most of the wall directly across from the door where you enter. The right side has a ladder for climbing up and down, and the bottom is a solid five or six feet in the air, but the ceilings in the cells are closer to ten or twelve feet.
Under the loft is a dresser of my things, a mat for working out, several sizes of hand weights and resistance bands, and a leather lounge chair.
That might not be the right name for it.
It has no arms and it sits directly on the floor.
I’ve heard Omen call the one under his loft a gaming chair, but mine is where I lounge, so it’s a lounger.
Omen’s loft takes up half of the glass wall on the far-left side of the room from where I’m currently standing. He’s got the same setup with his belongings under it. On the same wall as the entry door, just on the far side of the room, is the door to the toilet.
“How about I give you a tour?” Omen holds out a hand for Saylor.
She nods, placing her palm in his.
He casually guides her past my bed, showing her his loft, before leading her to the bathroom. We keep the space clean, but the toilet seat pretty much lives in the up position. The bathroom is basic as hell, with a sink to the right, a toilet straight ahead, and a shitty little shower to the left. It doesn’t even have a shower curtain, and the water in the cells is always cold. It’s why most of us opt to shower in the communal bathrooms.
My jaw clenches, and I exhale heavily.
When I started the day, the last thing I was expecting was to take responsibility for another person. Keeping Omen alive and safe in this shithole is a full-time job. Adding an omega to the mix is pure fucking insanity, especially considering what she looks and smells like.
I was starving after my workout, but my stomach rolls.
What the fuck was she thinking, asking to be locked in here with us?
Omen and I have a code.
A set of morals that we follow, but she has no way of knowing that. And now all I can wonder is if this is a setup from my boss. He made it clear he wasn’t ready to write me and Omen off—even after I went against his orders and fucked some shit up serious style.
I fucking hate it here.
No, I really hate that I can’t trust my own mind anymore.
This entire situation is a pressure cooker waiting to explode.