Chapter 4
four
Jo
My eyes blink open, and I find myself staring at a ceiling. An aged and yellowing ceiling, not unlike the one I woke up to…how long ago was that?
The last thing I remember is fighting with two orderlies…
It sounds like someone is banging on the walls, but a second later, I realize it’s just my head. Thump, thump, thump. The pounding slowly chips away at my sanity.
Or, what’s left of it, anyway.
Groaning, I tentatively try to move my arms to find that I can, in fact, move them freely. But…my limbs ache. My whole body does, really. I feel bone tired, and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess to sit up and look around the room.
It’s a…prison cell. Minus the bars, at least. Everything else though? The white paint on the concrete walls is yellowing, there’s a metal toilet in the corner, and while the door isn’t unlike the one I had at Thornfield, there’s a little window that can slide open and shut—right at eye level.
Of course, it can only be engaged from the other side of the door.
My blood chills as I realize where I am.
The Cathedral.
I can’t stay here. There has to be a way for me to get out on good behavior and go right back to getting Mabel. If I call Declan in to retrieve me now, she might be lost forever.
I can’t let that happen.
Fuck, how long has it been since they brought me in here? I try to gauge what Hayden is feeling through the bond without lifting the blinds, but all I can feel is his muted presence.
I bet he’s losing his mind.
Part of me wishes I had said “screw it” and bonded the other guys too, because then at least I’d have an idea with how they’re dealing with everything.
Well, at least Kole. I really hope he hasn’t killed anyone yet.
West and Sam told me they wanted in, but really, I’ve had one kiss with West, two with Sam, and that’s pretty much it.
I wouldn’t blame them if they wanted to call it off at this point.
Well, actually, I totally would blame them. I might hunt them down, tie them up and give them a piece of my mind. But I would totally pretend to be okay at first. You know, like a completely sane, logical omega.
A blinking red light catches the corner of my vision, and I turn my head to see a security camera in the corner, bolted to the ceiling.
Either they installed this just for me, or only the patients’ rooms are monitored via video feed because there definitely weren’t any cameras in the common areas the last time I was here.
I’m not sure which option is worse.
Scowling, I raise two middle fingers to the offending camera, and then stick my tongue out for good measure.
I’m so intent on my taunting, that when there’s an actual hard knock on the door, I’m jumping in surprise.
The metal panel slides open, and a chipper voice calls out, “Wakey, wakey, little psycho!” Then his gray eyes land on me. “Oh, good! You’re already up. I have breakfast.”
Scowling, I turn to see who’s decided to visit me in my zoo enclosure. If my memories weren’t so fuzzy, I’d be able to tell with certainty if this is the beta orderly from yesterday.
When all I do is stare at him blankly, he tilts his head. “Aren’t you going to ask me nicely?” he taunts.
I really wish I had my shiv right about now.
Closing my eyes to hide the way they roll to the back of my head, I stand, pasting a saccharine smile on my face.
“Oh of course, Precious.” I let my hospital gown droop off one shoulder, not caring about the bit of skin exposed.
“How rude of me.” I’m not sure if he can see the sway of my hips as I saunter towards him, and I hope to hell he can’t tell how shitty I’m feeling.
Based on the way his eyes are trained on me, I’m pretty sure my well-being is the last thing he’s thinking about.
When I reach the door, I stand on my tip-toes and tilt my head, fluttering my lashes. “Pretty please,” I make my fingers walk on the frame of the opening between us, “could I have some breakfast?”
I’ll play nice until I get what I want. Maybe I can trick them into letting me make a phone call if they think they have a shot at me sucking their dicks without biting them off.
Not that I ever would. Nope. My packs’ dicks are the only ones ever going near my mouth again.
He grins, a smug, satisfied smile on his face as his eyes dart to my shoulder. “Mmm. I think you can do better than that, Josie.”
I freeze.
Josie? Abso-fucking-lutely not.
I recover quickly even as rage boils in my veins, and I let out a little giggle. His eyes brighten with interest, and as I sweetly, tentatively, reach my hand through the window to stroke a hand through his hair, his eyes flutter closed.
His pathetic voice is shaky. “Um, maybe—”
Snarling, I tangle my fingers in the hair at the back of his neck and pull forward as hard as I can. Since I caught him off guard, there’s almost zero resistance as his forehead slams into the metal door.
There isn’t a sound besides the clatter of what sounds like a cup or something plastic clattering to the ground. But the orderly doesn’t make a peep.
No noise. No name calling, no scream of rage. I must have knocked him out.
Huh. Guess I was madder than I thought.
But for real. Josie? How hard is it to stop at the first two letters? J-O. Jo.
Fuck, I might prefer Josephine to Josie.
Frowning, I peek over the frame of the window. I can’t see much, but I do spy the beta orderly’s head with a big ol’ welt on it, sprawled on the floor next to a spilled bowl of oatmeal.
Well, damn, he really did have breakfast. I probably won’t be getting another one.
A burst of laughter from down the hall has me scrambling to my bed. I sit down, my back against the concrete wall as I make a show of looking at my nails. “What the fuck happened to you, Jones?” the same voice asks through his hysterics.
A groan sounds from right outside my door.
“Don’t tell me the omega got the drop on you?” The laughter continues, and I find my hackles raising. It’s not that ridiculous of a notion.
“Fuck off, Steve,” the beta—Jones, apparently—grumbles, groaning again. “Dammit, I think I hit my head.”
A new face fills the window, and I look up in faux surprise.
“Two visitors in one day?” I smile, crossing my legs. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I was monitoring the camera. I came as soon as I saw you start to reach through the window, Omega.” He says my designation like it’s my name, and there’s no hiding the derision in his tone now that his laughter is gone.
“Fuck, you’re…pungent. Don’t know how you’ve been hiding under the scent blockers for so long.
” He shakes his head as if he got off track, then tilts his head towards the beta on the floor.
“Jones here has never dealt with an omega in this facility.
Even if he had, he wouldn't have been prepared because none of them are ever as…wily as you.”
“Don’t that make me ‘Wile E. Omega’ then?” I ask, raising a brow. I never much cared for the Wile E. Coyote cartoon growing up, but at least coyotes have teeth.
He snorts. “Cute. If anything, you’re the roadrunner, and I’m the coyote.
” He shakes his head like he’s annoyed he got off track.
“Anyway. Since you wasted your breakfast, get ready to be hungry until the next meal.” He shoves a wad of fabric through the window.
“You can’t come out unless you put this on. ”
I frown, getting off the bed and retrieving the material off the floor. “What is this?”
“A straitjacket. Throw a fit all you want, but you’re not getting out of this room without putting that on. You’re a risk to the other patients.”
The other patients that they left on the floor after tranquilizing them.
Yeah. I’m the risk here.
“You’re awfully chatty, Coyote,” I comment, slipping the straitjacket on. The sleeves hang all the way to the floor, and the back is open.
“Face the wall, arms crossed in front of you,” he orders. “One wrong move and I’ll tranq you again.”
Huffing, I follow his directions, crossing my arms and facing the wall. “I don’t s’pose Brooks’ll be too happy with that,” I say lightly.
“Brooks isn’t the one who has to deal with your sorry ass.” I roll my eyes. “Closer,” he snaps.
“If you keep talkin’ about my ass, Precious, I might think you’re interested in me.
” I move forward until my nose touches the concrete.
“Better?” I ask sweetly, and he only huffs in response.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle when I hear the door open, his heavy footsteps coming into the room, followed closely by his wet asphalt scent, tinged with bitterness.
My omega wants to scramble as far away from the alpha who doesn’t belong to us, but seeing as I’m literally against a wall, there’s not much I can do.
He’s silent as he buckles the back of the straitjacket shut. “I don’t know why he doesn’t just dope you up like the rest of them,” he mutters under his breath.
“Not used to your victims—I mean, patients, talkin’ back, Coyote? Should I say, ‘meep meep’, instead?” He pulls the sleeves tight behind my back.
“You know, you keep calling me that.” He makes one final adjustment before spinning me around. I look up into cold eyes. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”
I tilt my head. “What’s that?”
He smirks. “Coyotes are the predators.”
I keep my smile to myself as I let him push me out the door, to where the beta orderly is cleaning up my oatmeal. He gives me a nasty look, but I only shoot him a wink, making his face turn red in anger.
Steve might be right that in real life, the coyotes are the predators. But what he’s not seeing is that the Road Runner outsmarts Wile E. Coyote every single time.