CHAPTER NINETEEN - BIRDIE
I jerk awake, my hands twisted into claws as I try to dig my way out of my snowy grave.
Not a grave, I realize over the frantic beating of my heart, but a weighted blanket lined with thick fleece.
It’s tucked tightly around my body, and I squirm, pain shooting up my wrist as I nearly pull the IV out of my hand.
“Careful,” Maggie says quietly, and some of my panic subsides as I take a careful look around. I’m still in the exam room, the blue paper crinkling under me, but now moonlight is creeping through the blinds. “You’ve been asleep for most of the day.”
I grimace at the thought of so much lost time, but when I open my mouth, my lips feel like they’re lined with glue. “Water?” I croak.
“Of course.” Maggie jumps up and grabs a paper cup with a straw from the side table and tilts it towards me.
I think about taking it off her, but my arms hurt too much.
In fact, my whole body feels like one big bruise.
I take a few cautious sips, relieved to feel only a slight scratchiness in my throat.
“I want to apologize,” Maggie says as she sets the cup down next to me.
“I should’ve been more thorough when I examined you at the cabin.
I can’t believe that I missed what was right in front of my eyes. ”
It seems that everyone feels bad about something, but it’s not like I can claim that I went looking for help. “I wasn’t exactly honest with you about what I’d been through.”
“You didn’t trust me.” She gives me a sympathetic look. “That’s to be expected. But I hope you know that we’re here for you now, Birdie.”
I nod, because it’s not like I can spring from the bed and march out of here. For now, I’m in her and her mate’s hands, even if the thought of relying on strangers makes my skin crawl.
“Do you think you can eat something light?”
My stomach growls on cue and she smiles and goes to the door, cracking it a few inches to murmur something through the gap.
I tip my head back and study the ceiling, too tired to try to eavesdrop on her conversation.
When she comes back, she takes my hand and I try not to flinch away.
There’s nothing wrong with her touch, but the kind of comfort she’s trying to offer isn’t something I’m used to.
And maybe her hand feels a little colder and softer than Colt’s, although I push that thought out of my head.
“Do you like the blanket?” She nods at my other hand, which is stroking the soft wool. “Axel wanted you to have it. He feels terrible… We all feel bad about not helping sooner, but I think he feels the worst of all. As pack alpha…”
“I didn’t want him to know,” I interrupt her, because his status in the Lawson Pack doesn’t mean anything to me. They’re not my pack, after all, so why should he feel guilty about something he couldn’t control?
“Well, I’m not going to force you to talk about things, but you should know that Carla wants to report the implant.
She’s thinking about starting with the Inspector General’s office and working her way up from there.
” Her mouth crimps, and her scent is sour with unhappiness.
“A few years ago, she worked with some omegas who were rescued from a trafficking ring. They claimed it had connections to the military, but the investigation never got off the ground. Carla is convinced the device in your throat came from some dark military lab, and she plans on turning over every rock until she gets to the truth.”
I shudder, because if she’s worked it out this quickly, it won’t be long before Axel starts to suspect as well.
If he speaks to the general, it’s more than likely it will get straight back to Reeves.
And if he thinks his little experiment is about to be exposed, he’ll extract me so fast, I’ll leave burn marks on the clinic’s crinkly blue paper.
“I was living with the True Pack Militia,” I blurt out. “It was them. Their implant.”
From the look of horror on her face, I wonder if it would have been easier to just tell the truth. “Oh, Birdie. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I just want this conversation over, so I force a smile. “The device is out now, isn’t it? And I never plan on going back there, anyway.”
She gives a distracted nod, but something is brewing in her gaze. “How did you escape? Were you extracted as part of the raid?”
I blink at her, confused. “What raid?”
A myriad of emotions flicker through her eyes. “When the federal agents intervened and disbanded the militia. It was a couple of months ago…”
A couple of months ago? I was locked in Reeves’ lab, but he never mentioned anything about a raid. Did he know about it? Did the general? Was that conversation the night they set me on this path just a ruse, so they didn’t have to tell me the truth?
An icy chill sweeps over me, and I’m suddenly grateful for the weighted blanket. But nothing can shield me from the images racing through my mind. “That can’t be right. You have to be mistaken.”
“Why is that, Birdie?”
“The compound’s a fortress and Kyle always said he’d defend it to the death….” My tongue trips over my stepfather’s name, but it’s the way Maggie’s lips curl down that makes my stomach plummet towards my toes. “What happened? Did… did people die?”
As Maggie’s eyes fill with pity, the floor seems to slip away from me, and I have to clutch the edges of the bed.
There’s a strange rattling noise rising in the air, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s coming from my throat.
Maggie is a blur beside me as she gets to her feet, her scent spiking with alarm.
“I’m sorry, Birdie. I didn’t mean to upset you… I’ll run and get Carla.”
“No, I don’t need help.”
My protest is so strangled, I can barely get it past my lips. I want to scream at her – at everybody – to leave me alone, but Maggie is already disappearing through the door in a wave of sour regret.
I grip the edges of the bed tighter, disbelief warring with the bile burning the back of my throat.
How can it be true? Wouldn’t I know if something like a raid happened?
My sweat, blood, and tears are literally soaked into that compound’s walls.
If federal agents pulled them down, wouldn’t I feel it in my bones?
I try to push my way out of the bed, but my arms are shaking too hard and the alarm starts beeping again.
I barely hear it as a barrage of questions hammer through my mind.
Who was extracted? Where are they now? And how many people did my stepfather sacrifice in his defense of his right to be a stone-cast asshole?
I moan, because the room is spinning, and I can barely drag in a breath.
Kicking off the blanket, I drop my head onto my knees and squeeze my eyes shut.
My chest is pinched so tight it makes me gasp, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the parade of imagined horrors in my mind.
People died. How many of them were omegas who never did a thing wrong in their lives?
How many of them were people who cared for and protected me, even when they knew I was always doomed to be cast out?
Something shoves into the wall with a metallic clatter, and then I’m surrounded by the scent of a rain-drenched forest. I try to suck it inside me, to breathe in that comforting rush, but my lungs feel like they’ve collapsed down to pinpricks.
“It’s okay, Birdie,” Axel says, his arm wrapping carefully around my shoulders. He’s not hugging me exactly, but it still feels like I’m being smothered under an impossible weight. “Take a deep breath through your nose. You can do it, sweetheart. In and out. Just take it nice and slow.”
I try to mimic his breathing, but the suffocating feeling won’t go away. More images are scraping through my mind; of smoke, and gunfire, and piles of blood-streaked rubble.
Who suffered? Who died? And how come I didn’t feel it when it happened?
I really can’t breathe. As stupid as it is, it feels like I’m the one buried under those collapsing walls.
I need air, but my lungs are painfully weak. Every breath is shorter and harsher than the last, and as I scramble to pull the bandage from my throat, I hear Colt’s frightened cry, “Baggage? What’s happening to her?”
“She’s having a panic attack.” Axel tries to tilt my chin up, but I fight him, curling tighter around my pain. He curses, and I feel his dominance clench down on me, just another wall to bury me under. “Shit, I can’t get through to her!”
“She’s turning blue!” Colt hisses. “Where the hell is Carla?”
Axel bites out a curse, but the next moment a wave of hickory woodsmoke descends over me, invading my traumatized senses.
I drag in a painful breath, and it curls on my tongue, a delicious balm to my spasming throat.
The bed dips beside me, and when Hog takes me out of Axel’s arms, I cling to him like a starving tick.
“I know you don’t want it,” he rumbles, pressing my head gently against his throat, “but my scent is made for you. Breathe it in, Omega, and it will help you get through this.”
I obey and sweet, sweet air dribbles into my lungs. I make a pitiful, mewling sound, but as my nose burrows into the skin below his beard, the pressure in my chest eases a fraction. “Good girl,” he rumbles, gently stroking my cheek. “Keep taking what you need. I’m here for you, Omega.”
My hackles rise at the obvious lie, only he is here, and he’s letting me cling to him like he’s the only oxygen in the room.
Which he kind of is, because as we breathe together, his steady exhales become my precious air.
It fills my lungs and slowly, inch by inch, the suffocating panic recedes.
I know I should draw back, but the combination of his undiluted scent and the warmth of his body make my entire body melt.
I press closer instead, greedy for more.
“Don’t cry,” he murmurs before I even feel the tears on my face. “I’m sorry if I’m hurting you…”
I shake my head, my nose skimming his throat in a way that makes his arms tighten around me.
It’s the kind of pressure I’m hungry for, and before I can stop myself, I reach up and wrap my hands behind his neck.
It’s warm and solid, and as I lace my fingers together, I can’t resist petting the soft hairs on his nape.
Petting an alpha?
Some distant part of me knows that’s an insane idea, but my logical mind isn’t in control now. My instincts have taken over, and the closer I get to this alpha, the more I want to bathe in his scent.
The next moment our chests are flush, our thighs are pressed together, and I realize I’ve squirmed into his lap.
It’s his turn for his breath to catch in his throat, and I rub my nose against the thick column of his neck.
I want to ask him to lie down, to pull me close, but I cling to my last shreds of self-preservation.
One slip and you could lose yourself forever, little firefly.
My mom’s words echo in my mind, as frightening now as when she whispered them into my hair.
Maybe Hog’s scent really is made for me, but there’s a fine line between comfort and control.
These few, brief moments are as much as I can take – as much as I can give up - without surrendering myself in the process.
I can’t let him use my instincts against me.
“Why would I do that, Omega?” I freeze, horrified to find that I’ve spoken aloud.
A week of being silenced, and I’ve forgotten how dangerous it is to put your thoughts into words.
But Hog seems more perplexed than angry by my slip.
“I’m biologically programmed to protect my scent mate with every fiber of my being. ”
“Not programmed,” I hiss, nausea crawling up my throat. That’s one of Reeves’ favorite threats. That he’d twist my biology and program me to beg for an alpha, to beg for his knot. “I don’t want to be controlled by you.”
He tilts his head, looking down the long line of his nose at me. “You’ve got that backwards, Omega. Whatever you want, it’s yours. That’s how this works.”
“It never works,” I scowl, my belly tight with dread. All those omegas, all those broken lives, and no fate was as bad as finding out you were some alpha’s scent match… “At least, it never works for the omega.”
For a moment I catch pure confusion in his eyes before he blinks it away. His arms are still around me, but now they feel like a fraying bridge instead of a protective wall. Despite my instincts screaming at me, I’m not at all surprised when he asks, “You want me to set you down?”
I don't, but I nod, because five minutes more and I’m not sure a crowbar could pry me from his lap. And then where would I be? Riding his knot and wearing his bite?
A shudder runs through me, and he hesitates a moment before he settles me on the bed. The nausea is different now, like it’s flavored with regret, and I have to lock my hands together so that I don’t reach for him as he steps away.
His voice is a raspy rumble as he stares down at me. “You need anything?”
You. Your scent. Your warmth. That honey glow in your brown eyes…
“The blanket...” He scoops it off the floor, draping it over me, and my throat catches. It’s soft and warm, but it smells like laundry powder and antiseptic. “Could I borrow your jacket again?”
“I think Maggie’s washing it, but you can have my sweater.” He peels it off so casually, I can’t hide the stunned look on my face. He only has a thin tank underneath, and the wave of undiluted alpha makes me bite my tongue so hard, I nearly draw blood.
“Won’t you be cold?” I manage to stutter out as he presses it into my hands.
“I’m just in the other room, and I’m not planning on going out anytime soon.”
Relief washes through me and I’m not sure how good I am at hiding it, because his gaze sharpens on my face. I drop my eyes, staring at the puddle of warm wool in my lap. “You should go home. You can’t camp out in reception.”
“It’s the only place I want to be,” he says, and his hard face softens into a hint of a smile as he turns towards the door. “Rest, Omega. Everything else can wait.”