Chapter 37 #2
“This is why your friend here is such a treat,” Thane continues conversationally.
“For a long time, it was thought that two copies of the necessary gene were required to create an Omega, making a male on biologically impossible. Obviously, that is not the case. If I can the genetic mutation that allowed him to naturally come into the world as a male Omega, it will greatly advance my research. I’m going to break him down into little pieces and analyze every single one until I know all the secrets his body has been hiding. ”
The blade bites into Cillian’s skin, drawing a thin line of blood. His scream this time is raw and primal, the sound of a soul being torn apart.
“Stop!” The word rips from my throat before I can stop it. “Just stop!”
“You might have us at your mercy,” I snarl, gripping the bars until my hands go numb, “but Logan will eventually track you down and kill you.”
The Inquisitor sets down his scalpel to throw back his head and laugh, a sound like breaking glass that echoes off the sterile walls. “Logan? The spoiled princeling who has never cared for anything more than himself in his entire life. He isn’t coming for you.”
I wish I had the conviction to argue. “Fuck you.”
He wipes Cillian’s blood from the blade with clinical precision. “My dear, naive child. Logan is far too much like his father to risk his precious position for a pair of damaged Omegas. The crown matters more to him than anything else—more than you, more than his secret pet here.”
The scalpel glints as he raises it again. “By now, the king has made it very clear what the price of interference would be. Logan’s already lost two pack members to my investigation. He won’t risk losing his throne for some Omega cunt that can be easily replaced.”
“Easily replaced? I seem to have made quite an impression on you,” I say, forcing my voice to stay level despite the fear clawing at my throat. “Considering you felt the need to follow me all the way to the palace just to get your hands on me again.”
Thane pauses in his ministrations to Cillian, the scalpel hovering just above pale skin. A flicker of something crosses his face—annoyance, but the smallest bit of grudging respect.
“You were my most ideal specimen once,” he admits, setting the blade down with deliberate care.
“Perfect genetics, optimal hormone production, exceptional susceptibility to conditioning protocols.” His clinical gaze fixes on me through the bars.
“But you ultimately became a disappointment. Which is why I need to understand what went wrong in your development.”
I lean forward, pressing my face closer to the cold metal. “What went wrong is that I have a functioning brain, you sick fuck.”
His laugh is sharp. “Intelligence was never the issue, my dear. Though none would think you’d be smart enough to accept your place in the natural order, rather than suffer uselessly.”
“Natural order?” I scoff, rage building in my chest like a furnace. “Is that what you call forcing yourself on captive women?”
Thane’s expression shifts, something darker flickering behind his eyes. “You think this is about sexual gratification? How pedestrian.” He picks up another instrument, examining its edge with scientific precision. “My interest in you was always purely academic.”
The lie is so obvious it makes me laugh. “Academic? Is that what you called it when you stripped me down and tied me to a table?”
“I sought to optimize your potential?—“
“You wanted me for yourself,” I interrupt, letting silk creep into my voice. “That’s what this has always been about, hasn’t it? Your wounded ego because I escaped before you could finally have me in all the ways you want.”
Thane goes very still, the instrument frozen in his grip. A muscle ticks in his jaw.
“Must have made you so angry,” I continue, pressing my advantage, “when you discovered I’d been bonded. All that work, all that time invested, and another man got to have what you’d been preparing for yourself.”
“Enough,” he snaps, but I can see I’ve struck a nerve.
“Speaking of abominations,” he says, his voice regaining its clinical detachment, “this bond you’ve formed with another Omega who was already bonded to an Alpha…it shouldn’t be possible according to every text ever written on designation biology.”
I feel a cold smile spread across my lips. “Maybe your textbooks are wrong. Maybe there’s a lot you don’t understand about what you’ve created.”
Thane’s eyes narrow, studying me with renewed interest. “Perhaps. But that’s precisely why you’re both so valuable to my research.”
He returns to Cillian, the scalpel glinting as he raises it once more. “Two anomalous Omegas, bonded in ways that defy conventional understanding. The data you’ll provide will revolutionize everything we know about designation genetics.”
Cillian’s scream echoes through the lab again, and I feel something inside me break.
A surge of emotion crashes through the bond I thought was dead—not pain this time, but something fiercer. Rage. Pure, molten fury that burns so hot it makes me gasp.
But it’s not coming from Cillian.
“You’re right about one thing,” I say, my voice steady now, empty of the fear Thane so desperately wants to hear. “Logan won’t come for us. He’s exactly what you said, a spoiled prince who values his crown above everything else.”
Thane looks pleased by this admission. “Finally, you begin to see reason.”
Through the bond, I feel a distant roar of violence approaching like a freight train. Logan’s fury, no longer contained, rushing toward us with the force of a natural disaster.
But if the bond isn’t dead yet, then it will be soon and Cillian along with it.
Thane adjusts his grip on the scalpel, angling it toward Cillian’s throat. “Interesting. It appears your friend has passed out. Good, the screaming was starting to grate on my nerves.”
I glance at Cillian’s still form, searching for any sign of consciousness. His chest rises and falls in shallow, irregular breaths, but his eyes remain closed. The monitors attached to his body beep erratically, their rhythm chaotic.
But I swear I see his fingers twitch. Just barely. So subtle I might have imagined it.
And then I remember what he once said about what he would do to break himself out of restraints.
“You know,” I say, my voice taking on a sultry quality that makes Thane pause, “maybe you should keep me for yourself after all.”
The Inquisitor’s eyebrows rise slightly. “The offer is tempting,” he admits, setting the scalpel down to study me with renewed interest. “But you’ll say anything to save yourself. How very predictable.”
I shift in my cage, pressing closer to the bars, letting my voice drop to that breathy whisper the Enclave taught us drives Alphas to distraction. “What’s so wrong with that? Isn’t a healthy sense of self-preservation what you’d expect from your ideal specimen?”
His clinical gaze travels over my form appraisingly. “Perhaps.”
“Put the scalpel down,” I purr, arching my back slightly despite the confines of the cage. “Let me prove it to you. You don’t even have to unlock the cage.”
Thane’s pupils dilate slightly, his breathing quickening as he considers my offer. The predator in him recognizes what I’m presenting—an Omega in apparent submission, offering herself to distract from his current victim.
“Clever little thing,” he murmurs, approaching my cage. His hand hovers over the scalpel for a moment before he deliberately sets it aside. “Very well. Show me what you’re offering.”
As he moves toward me, I catch the faintest movement from Cillian’s fingers again. This time I’m certain—a deliberate flex, followed by the barely perceptible shift of his weight against the restraints.
He’s conscious. And waiting.
I just need to keep Thane’s attention long enough for whatever Cillian is planning.
“That’s it,” I whisper as Thane approaches the bars. “I’ve missed you, Doctor. Missed the way you used to look at me.”
His breathing grows heavier as he reaches the cage, his hands gripping the bars mere inches from mine.