Chapter 2
two
Jo
As soon as we get around the corner, Adela breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry," she sags against the nearby wall, "that guy gives me the creeps. I just need a second to get my breathing under control."
"I don't blame you," I mutter, watching the cute beta calm herself. A moment later, she pushes off the wall, and I fall into step beside her. "Do you work here?"
"Oh," Adela shakes her head, her cheeks turning pinker than strawberry as she glances down at her scrubs. She cradles her belly, "No. The jumpsuits…well, they don't fit my baby belly too well."
The hallway we're in doesn't look like it'd be in the building I saw online when I was looking into this place.
The linoleum tiles are shiny, the bright white walls almost hurt my eyes.
When I typed in my web browser, "Thornfield Asylum for the Criminally Insane", it brought up pictures of gothic architecture, almost like a cathedral. This…this is nothing like that.
"How far along are you?" I can't help the softness in my voice. She's carrying a damn baby in this hellhole.
"Oh, about…thirty weeks." She gives me a weak smile.
Thirty weeks. Only ten more and she'd have the baby. What will they do? Will they take the baby away? Will she have to raise it here?
I'm not sure which option is worse.
Before I can carry on my line of questioning, we come upon a set of double doors that open automatically and lead to a large courtyard. Jaw dropping, I look up.
Well, I'll be. That's more like it.
The towering gothic castle looms over us like the grim reaper, but I quickly school my features, trying hard to seem unimpressed by the whole thing.
“What buildin’ is that?” I ask, feigning mild curiosity. “I bet that stained glass looks interestin’ from the inside.”
Adela shivers, shaking her head. “You don’t want to find out.”
Frowning, I tilt my head, unable to stop staring at the stained glass image of a small woman on her knees, three alphas standing as they surround her.
It’s all blue and golden hues—almost heavenly.
At least—that’s half the picture. The image is split right down the middle, a line cutting through the woman’s body with the other half showing her standing, the alphas on this side of the image cowering at her feet.
The colors are red and black, and it doesn’t take someone with an art degree to figure out exactly what the images are trying to convey.
This place is not kind to omegas.
“Why not?” I wonder if this is some kind of cult-building.
“That’s where…” she shivers, rubbing a hand over her belly, “they take you if you can’t adjust to the…’community’ way of life here. Keep you drugged up so you can’t cause any more trouble.”
Ah. So that’s Zombieland.
It’s almost obvious now, the way there’s absolutely not a single soul dwelling in the space by the large double doors of the building. Almost like they’re afraid a close proximity will make orderlies jump out and drag them inside.
“Don’t go in the creepy cult-lookin’ buildin’. Got it.” I nod, silently thanking the gods above that I got a tour guide as good as Adela.
"It's almost lunch time," Adela says to me, leading us through the different groups of people in the courtyard.
"And then after you'll have your meeting with the facility director, Ms. Leslie Perez.
She's really nice. And then you have your psych appointment with Dr. Monroe…
" I can't help but notice that I’m the only one wearing a purple jumpsuit.
Everyone else is either wearing orange or a dark gray color.
Every head turns to stare as we pass, narrowed eyes and blatant stares raking over me.
"I'm gatherin' y'all don't get newcomers very often?" I ask, raising a brow. Adela gives me a sheepish grin.
"Not too often, at least…not one with a record like yours." Her cheeks flame red as she says the words. "Not that…I mean—"
"Woah, woah, there, Mama." I put a soothing hand on her arm. "I completely understand why you might be nervous about me. I didn't know everybody would be privy to that information, but…I never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. Trust me, the world is better off without them in it."
Adela's eyes widen as she looks at me, audibly swallowing. "Like…like a vigilante?"
I can feel a smirk tilting at my lips. "Kinda. So, tell me…how did you end up in a place like this? Only seems fair since y'all know about me."
Adela pushes her glasses up—something I'm discovering is a nervous tic—and rubs her belly with one hand as her other pushes a strand of shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear.
"Father sent me here when I got pregnant and refused to get rid of the baby.
Vander…he loves me, and when I'm out, we're going to raise the baby together, no matter what my father says!
Vander will take over his family's business, and as soon as I turn eighteen he's coming to get me.
" She gives me a bright smile, her demeanor not tainted by the world around her yet.
“They wouldn't normally keep a minor here, but since Father is close friends with Isaac Thornfield…” Her gaze goes dark for a second, but then her smile is back. “He did him a favor.”
Oh, fuck. This girl is only seventeen? I mean, I'm no crone at twenty-three, but something protective stirs inside me at that knowledge. Instead of prying into her business further, I take a look around at the other "patients".
We're on the other side of the courtyard now, closer to the gothic building, and I fold my arms over my chest, staring at the little cliques. It really is just like a mini-society.
"Is that common?" I find myself asking. "People getting sent here because they're considered…problematic?"
My eyes catch on a man sitting on top of a picnic table, his feet on the bench.
The jumpsuit that stretches across his broad chest is bright orange, and it immediately dawns on me that he must be an alpha with his size.
With a jaw that sharp and face that looks like it was blessed by angels, it's no surprise he's surrounded by a gaggle of followers.
He's not paying a lick of attention to them, though. His hazel eyes stay firmly trained on me as a little smirk tilts on his full lips. His elbows rest on his knees, and in his left hand is a…is that a lighter?
Who the hell gave a lighter to an inmate in an insane asylum?
He flicks it open and closed repeatedly, but there's no flame. Not even a spark.
Well, praise the Lords Almighty for small mercies.
"That's Hayden," Adela whispers harshly to me as he gets off the table and saunters over to us. "He's another one that's kind of like me, but he did burn down a few buildings, so—"
"Well, what do we have here?" Hayden's smooth voice speaks of someone who's gotten everything he wants his entire life.
His gaze travels up my body as he puts his hands in his pockets.
Surprisingly, I'm not repulsed by the look he's giving me, but it doesn’t matter either way.
I can't afford any distractions right now.
"I'm Hayden Pierce. I take it you're the new girl? "
I’m sure my hair is a mess, all flyaways and frizz outside of my two dutch braids from three days in solitary, then being knocked out and transported here, but the alpha still looks at me like he wants to devour me whole.
I'll play nice…for now. There's a faint scent of smoky pepper surrounding him that I find quite pleasant. I suppose I'm lucky they tamped down my instincts or I might not be able to keep my head in the game.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pierce," I turn up my southern charm and avert my eyes briefly. "I'm Jo. Jo Harding."
"Well, Jojo Harding," Hayden grins, his teeth perfect and white, "that accent is fucking doing things to me.
Also, just call me Hayden." He steps forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
A bold move, to be sure. Why does his confidence make me want to waver?
"Why don't we take a walk? I can show you around the facility, help you get…
acquainted." He winks at me, a blatant flirtation.
If I didn't have a job to do, I might have been tempted.
"Maybe another time, Darlin'." I shoot him my own wink before looping my arm through a speechless Adela's and turning us in what I hope is the direction of the cafeteria.
Hayden falls into step easily beside us as we walk, and I sigh internally.
He's making it very hard to maintain my politeness.
"That's alright, Jojo, I'll walk with you.
I know all the ins and outs of this place—my old man bankrolled the renovations.
I can give you the inside scoop. The four-one-one.
I have no idea what that means, I just heard it in a movie one time. The low-down. The—"
"Hayden?" I stop in my tracks, tilting my neck to look up at the alpha.
"Yes, Jojo?" He gives me a smile that makes me want to drop to my knees.
What the hell is wrong with me? I need to nip this in the bud, now.
"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" My voice is sickly sweet. I expect him to react the same way that all alphas do when I turn on the honeyed voice with my poison words. With anger, blustering arguments, or violence.
But Hayden surprises me. His smile grows. "Don't you start being mean to me, gorgeous. It'll only make me fall in love with you."
A scoff leaves me, and I roll my eyes. "You're deranged. Psychotic."
His head falls back with a groan. "Fuck, Jojo, what did I tell you?"
"Hmm," I tap my chin, "that you're nuttier than a fruitcake?"
"What you don't seem to get is that this is like foreplay to me. You're only making me harder." He cackles. He fucking cackles at me.
Huffing an angry breath, I grab Adela's arm again and keep walking, leaving the hot, psycho bastard behind us.
Maybe he does belong in here after all.