Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
KAYLA
I slip out of the kitchen, and the dimly lit hallway stretches before me. Dread swells in my gut, sour and heavy. Tomorrow’s sunrise could be my last as a free Omega.
Will Ryker hand me over? I couldn’t even work up the courage to ask him who they work for.
I need an empty bedroom. The Alphas’s scents are everywhere, musk and pine and power, making it damn near impossible to think straight. But there has to be a corner not claimed, a room not marked.
Third door to the left, I push it open with a hesitant palm. It’s dark inside, curtains drawn tight. I stand still, take a deep breath, and… nothing. No hint of cedar or spice that would scream Alpha presence. Relief floods through me.
I inch forward, letting my eyes adjust to the gloom. Disappointment pricks at me, but it’s overshadowed by relief. This isn’t the sprawling suite I might have expected in a mansion, but it’s private. The room, while not vast, is well-proportioned, with a plush, king-sized bed dominating the far wall. Its deep burgundy comforter is a rich contrast to the crisp white sheets.
A sleek nightstand in a warm cherry finish sits beside it, and a tall, mahogany dresser opposite the bed boasts gleaming brass hardware. The only other furniture is a comfortable armchair upholstered in a muted sage green, tucked into the corner beside a large window. It’s not the height of luxury, but it’s undeniably elegant and, most importantly, empty.
“Finally,” I exhale, shoulders slumping as the tension drains away, if only for a second. I can pretend, can’t I? Pretend I’m just Kayla and not that any freedom I have isn’t going to be stripped away at dawn.
Though I’ll run before they can take me to Nexus. Not going there after what happened on the bus. After all the stories I’ve heard.
Telling myself I’ll leave before the sunrises, I set the alarm to four next to the bed. Then I open the closet door and find it empty except for a couple of folded towels.
I take one and open another door, and it’s a private bathroom connected to this bedroom. Wow. Never had my own bathroom before. Not that this is mine. I turn on the shower and while it’s heating up, I search the drawers and find an unused hairbrush still in the package and toothpaste.
Using my finger, I brush my teeth, then open the brush and comb through my hair.
Steam rolls from the shower and I undress, stepping inside.
Water cascades over me as I soap myself up. I’m rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when an image pops into my mind—Liam in the shower, water streaming down his chiseled chest, calling out my name, his hand wrapped around?—
My body betrays me, trembling with an unsolicited longing. My fingers slip down, tracing the lines of tension coiled in my core. The image of him, unabashed and lost in pleasure, flashes again behind my eyelids.
“Kayla,” he groaned, and God, that gravelly voice sparks through me. I’m not immune to desire, even if every instinct screams to guard my heart. With each stroke, I chase the phantom caresses I imagine from Liam’s hands, and the pressure builds. Slick liquid coats my fingers.
I hiss through clenched teeth as the crest breaks over me, dragging a shuddering climax from deep within. For those fleeting moments, I forget everything—the looming threat of Nexus, the Alphas’ uncertain allegiance, and my own tangled emotions.
Once my legs stop shaking and my orgasm subsides, I rinse off, still reeling from the aftershocks that ripple through me. Stepping out onto the cold tile, I reach for the towel, hastily wrapping it around my quivering body.
Taking a deep breath, I try to ground myself back in reality, but reality means facing what comes next. As I pat myself dry, I realize with a sinking feeling that I have nothing but the clothes I wore today, which are discarded and dirty on the floor.
“Great, just great,” I mutter. I could try to sleep in these clothes, but the thought of spending another uncomfortable night in the same outfit makes my skin crawl. I rifle through the bedroom for anything useful, but all the drawers are empty. “Guess it’s going commando under a towel tonight.”
A shaky laugh escapes me, a brief burst of hysteria at the absurdity of my situation. Alone in a mansion filled with men who could either be my salvation or my ruin and here I am, worried about pajamas.
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. Maybe I can do a quick wash. So, I grab my clothes and steel myself as I step out into the hallway with the towel, the only thing keeping me from being completely naked.
I pad down the hallway, my feet cold against the polished floors.
Please, don’t let anybody be awake.
The laundry room is empty as I slip inside. I toss my clothes into a washer, dump in some detergent without measuring, and hit start with more force than necessary.
“Come on, come on,” I urge the machine as it chugs to life, hoping none of the Alphas have a reason to wander in here.
Minutes tick by—too many—and I’m starting to get antsy. The washer seems to be locked in an eternal spin cycle, and I’m standing here, half-naked, with nothing but a towel to protect my modesty.
“Maybe there’s something in one of the dryers.”
The first dryer is empty except for a dryer sheet, and the second is completely empty.
I tug open the last dryer.
Score! I find Dane’s shirt among a handful of socks. I reach in and pull it out, the fabric soft and amazingly still warm from the dryer.
The hole from where he was shot is still there. Shaking my head, I bring the shirt closer. Memories flood back—the frantic rush to get the bullet out, the worry etched on Liam’s face, the heat of Dane’s body under my hands.
Taking a deep breath, I pull the material over my head. The shirt hits me just above the knees. Then I toss my towel into an empty dryer, glaring at the wash of my clothes that finally sounds like it’s fixing to finish. When it buzzes, I quickly pull out my wet clothes and toss them into one of the empty dryers.
A shout pierces through the mansion’s thick walls. My pulse spikes, and for a second, I freeze, ears straining.
“Was that...?”
The sound doesn’t come again right away, and I’m torn. Investigating feels risky, especially after Ryker’s veiled threat. But the stillness feels wrong, charged with an unsettling energy that makes my skin prickle.
Taking a deep breath, I hit the start button on the dryer. I can’t just ignore a potential cry for help, even in a house full of Alphas.
Padding down the hall, barefoot and wary, every nerve ending is on alert. The house is quiet now, too quiet, and I’m seconds from convincing myself I imagined the whole thing.
Then the shout comes again, a muffled cry that raises the hairs on the back of my neck. This time, I’m sure it’s real, and I’m moving before I can second-guess myself. I follow the sound, each step falling silent on the plush carpet.
The muffled cry cuts through the silence once more, louder, closer, and I press forward, driven by a mix of concern and the stubborn refusal to be the kind who ignores a call for help.
Outside a cracked door, I see flickering lights.
I creep closer, peeking through the crack, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The room looks like it got hit by a neon lightning bolt with a huge screen overhead.
Liam has a controller in his hand as he sits on the couch, his fingers mashing buttons.
Glancing back at the screen.
There’s a burly figure armored in pixelated steel, swinging a massive sword, cleaving through the grotesque form of a goblin. It collapses with an exaggerated squelch that echoes weirdly in the vastness of the room.
“Didn’t anyone tell you spying is rude?” Liam says. “Come in already.”
But I shouldn’t. I hover in the doorway, bottom lip between my teeth, as I debate going inside or leaving.
“Next time you need a shirt, Kayla... make it one of mine. Especially if you’re gonna skip the underwear.”
I freeze, caught halfway out the door, my heart a staccato in my chest. The air between us crackles, tension winding around me like a vice. For a split second, I’m tempted to turn around to see the smirk I know is playing on his lips, but I don’t give in.
“Keep dreaming, Alpha,” I toss back, trying for sassy but feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
His low, rich laugh echo in my ears, a tempting whisper against the throbbing pulse in my veins. But it’s more than just flirtation; it’s a challenge, a dance along the razor’s edge between fear and longing.
“Come on in, Kayla. I promise I won’t bite… at least not tonight.”
Curiosity about what he’s playing and not wanting to let him know how much he affects me, I step into the room, which is full of Liam’s scent and a huge bed. I shouldn’t be in here. Tension coils in my belly.
“Just for a minute.” He pats the bed beside him, but his attention is riveted to the TV.
I watch him, fascinated by the fantastical world unfolding on the screen. It’s all so strange, so different from anything I’ve experienced. Sitting down on the bed next to him, I draw my legs up underneath me.
“What is that?”
“Catacombs of Aethelgard,” he says, returning his gaze to the screen as if such monsters are everyday nuisances rather than digital nightmares. “Wanna play?”
“No idea how to, but I could try,” I admit hesitantly.
“Come on,” Liam nudges a second controller toward me, an easy grin playing on his lips. “It’ll take your mind off things.”
I hesitate. I should be waiting for my clothes to dry, I should be getting some sleep before the alarm goes off, and I have to leave before Ryker turns me over to Nexus. No idea what I’ll do after I’m out on my own but I’ll figure it out.
Maybe I could get a job cleaning houses or a waitress like my mom. Something.
Liam is staring at me with such eagerness, that I can’t resist. Besides, it’ll take at least twenty minutes before my clothes are dry, right?
I take a tentative step forward and reach for the controller.
“First, let’s create your character. You can be a rogue, cleric, battle mage, or warrior,” he says.
I click on the cleric. “I’ve never really played games like this before. What even is a cleric?”
“Good choice.” Liam gives me an approving nod as my fingers hover over the buttons, unsure. “Clerics have healing powers. We could use someone who keeps us alive in there.”
“Us?” My brow furrows because this is all so new and confusing.
“Co-op mode. We play together. Teamwork, Kayla,” The excitement in his voice is infectious.
“Okay.” I find myself smiling.
Liam walks me through the basic controls, and soon enough, my digital avatar—a slender woman clad in white robes—is casting spells that stitch wounds closed and bolster defenses with magic. Each successful move I make under his guidance sends a little jolt of satisfaction through me.
“Nice!” Liam exclaims as on-screen, my cleric pulls off a particularly tricky spell combo. He glances at me, eyes shining with pride, and for a brief moment, our gazes lock. There’s something there—warmth, connection, something.
I shake it off, turning my attention back to the screen. We maneuver through ancient crypts and battle horde after horde of monsters. It’s intense, and every victory and treasure chest I open has me eager to find the next one.
“Watch out!” Liam shouts as a trap springs from the floor, nearly skewering my character. His hand brushes mine as we both scramble for the controls, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.
“Thanks,” I whisper, focusing intently on the game but acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body next to mine.
We continue playing, and I fall into rhythm with him, our characters moving in sync, battling through the catacombs’ dangers. I’m surprised by how much I enjoy it—the game, his company, the escape from reality it provides.
“You’re doing great for a newbie,” Liam teases, playfully bumping my shoulder with his.
I roll my eyes but can't contain a grin. “Beginner's luck.” The game world feels like a refuge, where I can unleash spells and slay monsters without any real-world consequences. Where Liam has my back, and the burdens weighing me down slip away, at least for a little while.
“This game is pretty intense,” I say after we defeat another monster horde. “I didn’t expect to get so into it.”
Liam chuckles. “That’s the magic of catacombs. It sucks you in.” He leans back on the bed, studying me with an impressed look. “You’re a natural, though. Figured out the controls faster than anyone I’ve played with.”
I feel my cheeks warm at the compliment. “I have a good teacher.”
He flashes me a crooked grin. “Sorry if I got a little too excited earlier and scared you with that shout. I can get carried away sometimes when I’m playing.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just... on edge with everything going on.” And not knowing exactly what’s going to happen to me.
“Seems like it’s more than that.” He pauses the game, the screen frozen on our characters. “You can tell me.”
Could I? I hesitate, chewing on my bottom lip and staring down at my hands. His kindness seems genuine, but can I really trust him?
“How about I go first?” He saves the game and turns it off, facing me. “My mom was an alcoholic and not a good one, either. She was mean, throwing things, screaming, never knew what was going to set her off.” He pulls back his blond hair off his forehead. “See this? Twelve stitches when she sliced me with a broken beer bottle.”
I gasp at the jagged scar across his hairline that disappears deeper into his scalp.
He hikes up his sleeve to show me his shoulder and the edge of his back. “The one on my shoulder is from her putting her cigarette out on me when I was three or four, I think. Ones on my back are from when she kicked me and all her bottles of booze broke on the tile floor underneath me.”
Tears well up in my eyes as I imagine his pain and fear. How could anyone do that to their own child?
I want to reach out and hug him tight, take away all that hurt he’s still carrying around, but I freeze up. His confession hangs thick in the air, pushing down on my chest. It’s a damn wrecking ball smashing through the walls I’ve built up around my heart, leaving my emotions exposed and threatening to spill out in an unstoppable flood. My throat constricts, the words I want to say trapped behind this tightness that could shatter into a sob at any freaking second.
No words seem enough to wrap my head around how fucked up his childhood was.
“Liam,” I manage to squeeze out. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs. “Every time, she was sorry afterward but never changed. Eventually, she drank herself into her grave.” Liam pauses, letting the weight of his messed-up past hang heavy in the air between us.
A part of me knows I should return the favor, be just as honest with him as he’s been with me. He’s been nothing but solid since we met, him and Dane both. No sleazy moves or anything, which has me wondering... Is it my guarded nature they’re picking up on?
Or probably that I’m not shimmying up next to him because all three of them are handsome as fuck, and Betas would be all over them.
Again, I chew on my lip, torn. He just laid himself bare for me. Shouldn’t I offer him the same vulnerability? Even the thought of digging up that buried trauma makes my stomach do a nasty tango. The mere prospect of facing those horrors sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling in.
His hand reaches over, warm and gentle, and it feels like a goddamn lifeline thrown to a drowning girl. I clutch it like it’s the only thing keeping me afloat. His thumb starts tracing soothing circles across my knuckles, a silent promise that he’s not going anywhere.
I steal a glance at him, bracing myself for the pity party in his gaze. Instead, it’s like he really gets it, really understands on a soul-deep level.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice a low, raspy rumble that sends sparks ricocheting down my spine and burrowing straight into my core. “You don’t have to share anything you’re not ready for.” There’s no judgment in his words, just pure reassurance.
Suddenly, the dam inside me cracks. Grief surges forward, and I blink back the sting of tears threatening to spill over.
“It’s just... hard, you know?” The words tumble out in a choked sob. “Talking about it, reliving it… it feels like being skinned alive. Like someone ripped open the deepest, most fucking painful part of me and left it exposed for the whole world to gawk at.”
Instead of bombarding me with questions and demanding answers, he just waits, listening, letting me do this on my own. His hand over mine has my heart beating faster, but not in fear or revulsion like I would normally would. When I search his eyes, I only find warmth and compassion reflected there. A strange sense of safety washes over me. Maybe I can open up, just a crack.
I heave out a breath that feels like I’ve replaced air with glass shards.
“My stepdad. He-He…”
Seeing the muscle in Liam’s jaw twitch, I quickly pull my hand away from his, unable to meet his gaze. I’ve never unbottled this before, always too mortified, too afraid to let the truth tumble out. But now, it’s all rising up, clawing at my insides, desperate to escape the chamber where I’ve kept it locked away for so long.
“He hurt you?” he asks, and I can feel the barely contained rage. “Want me to pay him a visit?”
The thought, tempting as it is, sends a fresh wave of nausea crashing over me. I shake my head, the movement jerky and small. My throat tightens so hard it hurts, constricting like a vise.
“He-He didn’t actually… do anything…” The words come out in strangled gasps, each one a tiny betrayal. Shame, hot and suffocating, burns crimson across my cheeks and down my neck. “He tried to… I fought him and…”
Tears prick at my eyes, blurring everything into a watercolor mess. Flashes of fractured memories start strobing through my mind—fragments of that primal fear that still make me shudder like I’m goddamn freezing.
“You’re so fucking brave for fighting him off,” he murmurs. “And for sharing this with me. I’m here for you, Kayla. You’re safe now.” He holds out his arm, offering me a side hug.
Hesitantly, I do, and he simply wraps his arm around my shoulders, letting me lean into his strength. We stay like that for a while, him holding me while I sob. When I’ve cried all my tears, he gently wipes them away with the pad of his thumb.
It isn’t long before my eyelids get too damn heavy to keep open. I barely register Liam shifting, reaching over to gently pull a blanket over me. His soothing presence is the last thing I feel as I drift off into oblivion.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, his voice comforting. “I’ve got you.”
I feel... safe, like I can trust him, and I drift off to sleep.
I’m not sure how long I was out, but I jolt awake, disoriented as hell. Liam’s gone, but I’m cocooned in his bed, his lingering scent wrapped around me like a security blanket. Even when he’s not here, the guy manages to make me feel safe and looked after.
I really should go to my own bed and get a little more sleep, set the alarm before I sneak out in a few hours, but I curl up deeper in Liam’s bed, wanting the sensation to last. Telling myself that it’s not anything, just silly Omega hormones and being in a true Alphas bed.
After ten more minutes and Liam doesn’t return, I drag myself from his warm, comfy bed to go to the bedroom I’ve been sleeping in. Blurry eyed, I set the alarm for 4:30 a.m. and collapse into the bed, wishing I wasn’t alone.