Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
CASEY
T he world swims back into focus like diving into an ocean after a storm—murky, disorienting, with danger potentially lurking in every shadow. My grandmother used to say the sea teaches us its secrets slowly, but whatever these assholes injected me with is giving up its secrets all at once, leaving me dizzy and nauseous. They only intended to keep me knocked out to steal me, not kill me.
I press my palm against the cold window glass of the strange bedroom I find myself in, trying to ground myself. Miles of dense forest stretch out beneath a dipping sun, the trees swaying in a wind I can’t hear. No lights, no roads, no civilization. Fantastic. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know this setup never ends well for an Omega like me.
"Where the fuck am I?" The words come out raspy, my throat raw. Have I been screaming? The last clear memory I have is of those guys in black gear, the sharp sting of a needle, and then... nothing.
This day has gone from bad to worse in spectacular fashion.
God, my friends. The thought leaves me breathless. Danica had been close to me when the bus crashed, her voice high with panic as she shouted for us to run. Jess went in a different direction. And Kayla... the last thing I heard from her was a scream that still echoes in my skull.
We should never have separated, But when you’re being chased by Nexus guards, then masked Alphas show up, sometimes rules go out the window.
Speaking of windows...
I pull and tug at the one in front of me, searching for any weakness. Nothing. It’s sealed tight, probably reinforced like the ones at our Nexus school.
This room itself is sparse, just a queen-sized bed and absolutely nothing else. No lamp, no chairs.
Something about the deliberate emptiness makes my skin crawl. This isn’t their first rodeo. These guys know exactly what they’re doing, which means I’m either in a very professional trafficking operation, or…
No. Don’t go there, Casey.
I’m at the door, turning the knob, but it’s locked. Of course, it is.
My fingers find the small pin hidden in the pocket of my jeans, and a ghost of a smile touches my lips. My brother would be proud—he’s the one who taught me this particular skill, after all. I need to get hold of him, tell him to come find me, tell him I’m alive.
The streets aren’t always kind to Omegas, Case, he’d say, demonstrating the proper technique, always protective of me since we lost our parents. Gotta be prepared for anything.
I crouch by the door, working the pin into the lock with trembling fingers. Focus. The mechanism is decent quality—not the cheap stuff Nexus uses, but not impossible, either. A bead of sweat rolls down my spine as I feel for the tumblers.
Come on, come on...
The lock clicks softly, and I have to bite my lip to hold back a triumphant laugh. Take that, kidnapper Alphas. My brother always said I was a natural at this—probably not what our parents had in mind for their little Omega daughter, but they’re not exactly around to object anymore.
The thought sobers me instantly.
I ease the door open, holding my breath. The hallway beyond is something out of an upscale mountain resort magazine—all polished hardwood floors and artful black and white photographs in simple frames. Wall sconces cast warm light. Definitely not the zip-tied-to-a-chair-in-a-basement scenario I was half expecting.
My steps are silent on the wooden floors as I creep forward. Each photo I pass shows a different landscape—mountains, forests, oceans that remind me painfully of home, of our family trips to Hawaii. Of surfing with Dad before... before everything.
The craftsmanship of everything around me speaks of serious money. This place is like some billionaire’s luxury retreat. Every window I pass is sealed like mine, and I catch glimpses of security cameras disguised as decorative elements. These guys are either paranoid or they have really good reasons to want privacy. Neither option is particularly comforting.
Voices drift up from somewhere downstairs, male with that distinctive Alpha resonance of dominance.
Near the stairs, I press my back against the wall, each breath slow.
The voices grow clearer, and I pick out three distinct speakers. The first is gravelly and commanding, one of the two who chased me in the woods. The second carries an edge of dry intelligence, while the third holds a dangerous sort of playfulness.
"The Muso brothers sent through the plans," the intellectual one is saying. There’s a rustling of papers, the soft hum of what might be a computer screen. "Security’s tighter than it should be for a simple document retrieval."
They’re talking about breaking into a building, by the sound of it.
"Twenty grand for some paperwork to be retrieved," one of them says.
Wow, that is a lot of money for a break-in. I shift slightly, trying to hear better. Not just kidnappers but professional criminals. My chances of escape just dropped from slim to microscopic. Every exit is probably monitored, and every window is secured.
The intellectual one continues outlining their plan, talking about clean jobs and no casualties like that somehow makes them better than common thieves. Something in their manner suggests this is their usual type of work. They seem... calm.
I risk peering around the corner just enough to catch a glimpse of them gathered around what appears to be a dining table. Three Alphas, all built like they bench-press trees for fun, studying something spread out before them. My stomach clenches at the sight of sleek laptops and tablets—these aren’t just random thugs.
The one with glasses must belong to the intellectual voice. He has that tech vibe going, all quiet intensity behind his stare. His dirty blonde hair looks like he just rolled out of bed, but somehow it works for him. Probably breaks hearts at comic conventions.
The one sprawled in the chair nearby has to be Mr. Playful. There’s a dangerous grace to him even when he’s still, like a predator pretending to be tame. Dark waves fall across his forehead, and I catch myself wondering how it would feel to— Nope. Not going there. Remember the whole kidnapping thing, Case.
Then there’s the third one, all serious. He’s standing with his arms crossed, his Henley shirt pulling across his muscles that definitely weren’t built in some cushy gym. The way he scans the screens reminds me of the special ops guys my brother used to work with. Great, because professionally trained Alpha isn’t scary enough.
Three apex predators playing at being semi-civilized. My Omega hindbrain purrs. My survival instinct screams. I tell them both to shut up and concentrate on the conversation.
"Guards in the foyer 24/7," the one wearing glasses answers. His fingers dance across a keyboard as he speaks. "Side entrance here is manned by two armed guards in constant communication with the front."
They keep talking about their plan when the phone rings. I pull back instantly to avoid being spotted.
Then, a pause.
"Julian..." The serious one answers, and his tone changes, tightens.
But my world implodes.
Did he just say Julian ?
The name slices through me. My legs forget how to hold me up, and I grip the wall so hard, my nails dig into the expensive wallpaper. Darkness edges my vision as memories I’ve tried so hard to bury, dark memories that now claw their way to the surface.
Not him. Please, not him. It must be a coincidence.
The memory crashes over me without warning.
Julian’s private room at his estate, the one with the reinforced door and soundproofed walls. The one he called his training room with that perfect white smile. His fingers trailing down my back as he circles me, each touch a promise of pain wrapped in silk.
"Such a disappointment," he whispered, selecting a thin silver blade from his collection. The metal caught the light like a star falling into darkness. "But we can fix that, can’t we, sweet girl? Make you perfect. Make you mine."
I surface from the memory, gasping silently, my heart trying to break free of my ribcage. The conversation below continues, and I force myself to focus through the roaring in my ears.
"There’s been a complication... No, we don’t have her yet," the Alpha says tightly. "With all due respect, Mr. Hayes, calling us so quickly could draw unwanted attention… That was the agreement."
Hayes.
Julian Hayes.
Bile rises in my throat as realization sets in that it is him… my ex. The psychopath I stupidly dated earlier this year, and he became obsessed. Scared me. Hurt me. Even tortured me.
Julian must have hired these men and sent them to collect me.
Fuck!
I hadn’t seen him for six months, and I assumed that meant he finally got over me. I breathe heavily.
My fingers unconsciously brush over the scars on my inner arm, each one a tally mark of him teaching me a lesson, him getting off on seeing me suffer. Of lessons learned in blood and tears. The night I finally told him it was over, he’d promised to bring me back to him and teach me what happens to disobedient Omegas who think they can escape their destiny.
I’m going to be sick.
I don’t hear a lot of what they’re saying now as my heart’s racing.
"Fucker wanted to know why we haven’t delivered his Omega," the serious Alpha mutters with a sound of disgust behind his words.
I hug my middle. Julian knows where I live… and this Alpha told him he doesn’t have me yet, which is a saving grace. But why would he do that? What does he want from me?
I inch away, scared out of my mind that they’ll hand me over soon enough. I feel cornered, unsure where to go next.
Julian’s a monster who gets off on destroying Omegas, on teaching them their place through careful, calculated cruelty.
I need to get out. Now. Find my friends if they’re still free and get as far away as possible. Maybe this time to Hawaii—he’ll never think to look for me there. Maybe.
A floorboard creaks behind me.
In the split second before I turn, I know. Just like prey always knows when the predator is near. But when I spin around, my heart still forgets how to beat.
One of my captors fills the hallway, the one whose scent wrapped around me in the woods like wild blackberries and ocean breeze. The one with a playful but deep voice. Up close, without the balaclava, he’s even more intimidating. Six-four at least, with pitch-black hair falling across one eye and a scar through his eyebrow that somehow makes him even more dangerous. His ice-blue gaze rakes over me, carrying something that might be anger or might be amusement. In the dim hallway light, they seem to glow with predatory intensity.
"Going somewhere, little Omega?"
My heart thunders against my ribs, but I manage to lift my chin. Running isn’t an option. He’s blocking the only escape route, his broad shoulders filling the space.
"Just testing your security system. I’d give it a C-minus," I state with bravery I don’t feel, but I’ve never been one to back down.
His lips twitch, and for a moment, I think I see approval in those cold eyes. Then he takes a step forward, and every instinct I have screams danger. But underneath that warning is a stupid desire to lean closer instead of running away.
"Brave little thing, aren’t you?" he murmurs, that dark tone wrapping around me. He moves closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his body, which makes my head spin. "But we both know how this chase ends if you insist on running."