Chapter 5 Jo
five
Jo
Icannot believe I nearly spilled my entire plan to West.
As I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my absolute idiocy astounds me.
There's no telling where my outburst came from, why I froze like I did when he mentioned me stabbing Doc Nelson. It's not like I hadn't already mentioned it when he found me in the hall next to that guy…Lars.
What a stupid name.
I guess when he tossed my file aside and started talking to me like a person, I let my guard down a little.
Then he had to go and analyze me. It had been like jumping into an ice cold lake in the middle of winter.
A shock to my senses. A deadly reminder that he is not my friend, not my…
anything, no matter how much of a hard time I had not undressing him with my eyes.
Seriously. The man has no business looking that good in a building full of mentally unstable people. Myself included.
There are an obscene amount of attractive people here. I would wonder if it’s a part of the requirements of working here, but one look at Brooks makes it obvious the answer is a resounding “no”.
But come on. Between Hayden, my sexy psychologist, and even the slightly-dangerous-looking alpha with him, I’m feeling like a kid in a candy store.
The way Hayden’s hazel eyes sparkled with humor really did something to me, even if he does chatter more than a squirrel.
But, it doesn’t matter how handsome the deranged hottie is. He’s off-limits, as is everyone here. Chasing after boys is not the reason I killed thirteen alphas. No. I need to keep my eyes on the prize, and focus on finding Mabel.
Twisting onto my side, I stare at the wall opposite me. The rooms are better than the Omega Rehabilitation Facility, that's for sure. A decent bed, a damn desk, and even a dresser. You know, for my two uniforms.
Still way better than the ORF. Well, besides the walls. They're this soft buttery yellow color that Leslie claims helps promote "soothing thoughts", but really just gives me a hankering for popcorn.
Though I'm not sure if I'd be able to eat a single piece of popcorn with how stuffed I am.
After my appointment with West, I met up with Adela outside, and she showed me how to get into my room.
They left a pair of lavender sweats—the exact same shade as my jumpsuit—on the bed for pajamas, and I got my own hairbrush, hair ties, toothbrush, and toothpaste.
Then we went to dinner and I gorged myself on lasagna and garlic bread.
Who knew murdering a whole bunch of guys could give me a better life than I grew up with?
Except the communal shower. I'm not looking forward to that.
A faint squeaking catches my attention, and I frown, sitting up as my senses go on high alert. What in the…
The squeak sounds again.
I hop off the bed and follow the source of the noise, which leads to a small air vent in the corner of the room.
The panicked squeaking only intensifies as I approach, and I use the shiv I made out of my broken plastic spork from dinner to pry the cover off the vent.
The vent isn't any bigger than a shoe-box, and when the cover clatters to the floor, my brows shoot up.
"Why hello there, sweetie." I reach my hand out to the little rat that sits just inside the vent. It's not a sewer rat, or a dirty, gross little thing. No, this little darlin' looks like one of those fancy rats you pick out at a pet store. "Aren't you just the cutest little friend?"
The rat gets in my hand, its gray and white fur smooth to the touch. This critter is lucky I've always had a thing for animals. I stand up straight, holding my hand up as I look into its eyes. That's when its bright pink collar catches my eye.
"Oh, I bet someone misses you," I coo, carrying the little miss back to bed with me and eyeing my woefully empty room. "Sorry, I don't have anythin' for you right now." I really should have tried to sneak some snacks in.
The rat doesn't seem to mind though, and I place her on my pillow before settling my head next to her.
She tilts her head at me before her nose twitches, and she scurries off the mattress, to the floor and under the bed.
"What are you up to, little thing?" I sit up once again, raising my brows as the rat climbs back up my bed, something in her mouth.
Dumbstruck, I hold my hand out and watch as she drops the small device in my hand, then scurries back towards the desk. I study the small black disk—no bigger than a dime— in my palm. She's been trained to locate electronic devices?
Which means…they…they bugged my room. Is this part of the experiment we're all a part of? Or something else?
Shit.
"Aren't you a clever girl?" I praise as she comes back with another one. She finds two more before she's satisfied, settling herself on my pillow again. I can't destroy the bugs. If I do, I'll alert whoever it is that they've been found. But…
Getting off the bed, I open the top drawer of my dresser and drop them inside before smothering them with a towel. I'll have to ask for another one.
"I wish you had a name on that fancy collar," I tell the rat, settling my head next to her. "How about…Cheddar?"
Not-Cheddar gives an offended squeak, making me laugh as I shake my head. "You're right, that's a terrible name. Too obvious."
I swear she huffs out her nose as she tries to go to sleep. I wish I could get as comfortable as she is. My mind is still racing faster than a cat on a hot tin roof. Being here, finally, after all this time…it's what I've been working towards since I found out Daddy sold Mabel off to a pack.
Finally, after what feels like hours, my body settles, and I slowly drift off to sleep.
"Daddy, I won't ask you again. Who did you sell her to?
" My nose is bloody, my ribs screaming as I straddle his chest, a knife to his throat.
He looks at me with nothing but hatred. "We only turned eighteen three days ago, you sick bastard!
" We were supposed to leave today. Never look back. And now…now she's gone.
"You may as well give up, Josephine. You'll never get your poisoned hands on her again. She was a good, obedient girl until she started listening to you."
"Awfully chatty about the wrong things for someone with a knife to their throat," I grit out, pressing the knife further.
"Fuck you." He spits. "You don't have the guts. This is why it had to be her. But I'm sending you away, girl. They'll break you. Make you into the perfect omega, primed and ready to take as many knots as your alphas deem fit—"
Rage blinds me as a scream rips out of my throat. He’s never going to stop. He’s never going to stop hurting us.
Unless I make him.
I lift the knife and plunge it down into his neck. He gurgles, blood spurting from the wound as I throw myself off him, taking the knife with me. I scramble away, backing into a wall, ready for him to come at me again.
But he doesn't move. His black hair is plastered against his head with blood from our scuffle, and his beer gut hangs out of his stained, white undershirt. The puddle of red under him grows with each passing second, the gurgling fading, until finally…it stops.
Logically, I know he can't get up and punish me for what I've done. But still, every omega instinct inside me is screaming that there'll be a beating coming for defying him.
I don't know how long I sit there, shaking, my back against the wall with the knife in my hands, ready to stab the first threat I sense.
But then there's a shadowing figure crouching in front of me.
Not Daddy.
He's probably close to thirty, and he has this hard look in his eyes like he's seen some stuff.
He regards me carefully and for some reason…
relief fills me. The knife falls out of my shaky hand as green eyes stare into mine.
I don't realize that I'm crying until the stranger reaches a hand out and wipes away a tear.
His voice, warm and rich, coats me like a blanket. "Did you do this?"
I don't know why I answer honestly, but I do. Maybe it's the sense of protection that I've never felt from an alpha before, or maybe it's the lack of judgement in his eyes.
Wordlessly, I nod, and something like pride fills his face before he tilts his head. "Why?" he asks curiously.
My voice is choked as I speak. "He…he said he was sendin’ me somewhere to 'break' me. He already sold my sister. I have to find her." Suddenly I have the feeling that this man is the answer to all my problems, and I take a chance. "Please…can you help me? Can you help me find Mabel?"
"Mabel…" he says softly for a moment before regarding me. "What's your name, Princess?"
I swallow roughly. "Jo."
"It's nice to meet you, Jo. I'm Declan."
Declan. He came. As she was on her death bed, Mama told us that we needed to go into her room, look at the note taped under her dresser drawer, and call the number. They would keep us safe.
But Daddy…he didn’t know about the note, but he was always so secretive, he wouldn't let us anywhere near the room, and threatened us with each other's safety if we tried to get in.
And then he took her away from me.
When Daddy left the house to get more beer, I picked the lock and nearly tore the drawer out, before finding a scribbled note that said "Declan—last resort!" and a phone number. With shaking fingers, I had dialed the number and left him a tear filled voicemail with our address.
I didn't expect him to show up.
But he did.
I take his hand, and he helps me up before leading me out of the house. Men swarm Daddy's trailer, pouring gasoline everywhere, and by the time we make it to the large, blacked out SUV, the trailer is going up in flames, taking all evidence of my crime with it.