Chapter 22 #2
It’s the only plan I have. The only viable solution I’ve come up with since being dumped in this cell.
The Beta doesn’t care what I have to say, though.
“When we got Caelan on the table, he had nearly coded twice. He had full-body blistering from silver corrosion.”
Each word is a weighted stone in my gut. My blood turns to ice, and I whimper, but she doesn’t stop.
“His body was rejecting his own blood. His lungs were collapsing.”
“I can help,” I plead frantically. “We—”
“I have no interest in your lies,” she snaps. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen from her since she walked in. “You are not the victim here, and your father isn’t around to save you.”
Tears blur my vision. The sheer impossibility of her beliefs is as maddening as it is untrue.
They think my father would save me? The idea is laughable.
Jonathan Varenthrall would put a blade through my ribs before ever lifting a finger to help me.
“Caelan’s pack is beside themselves.” Her hands run over my ribs, pressing on various painful areas harder than necessary.
Wait.
Did she just say his pack?
Who is his pack? The Alphas who found me and brought me here?
Are they my Mates, too?
My eyes flutter shut, despair crashing over me.
I’ve never felt so untethered. I want Caelan. I want a nest. I want to curl up into the smallest little ball possible and hide somewhere no one can ever find me.
The Beta keeps talking, but her words may as well be static. My face tingles. My fingers feel numb.
It’s much easier to find the thread of our Bond when I search this time.
Now that I’m looking for them, I’m dimly aware of the Fated pack Bond attached to Caelan’s soul.
Both threads are blocked by the same wall of onyx as mine.
Now that I know they exist, they’re obvious.
Transparent echoes of a deep green rather than the solid, pulsing silver of our Mate Bond.
I can’t believe I didn’t notice them before.
Then again, I wasn’t looking.
It’s not like opening my eyes to see what’s around me. Visualizing the Bond is more metaphysical than that. It’s possible I couldn’t see them because I simply didn’t know they existed before now.
I just don’t have enough knowledge about Bonds in general. And something tells me the Beta won’t answer any of my questions, even if I ask.
“Are you paying attention, Omega?” Her annoyed voice demands my attention.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
Her hands move up my body as she continues her unnecessarily cruel exam. I try not to react as she pokes at me, but that fails spectacularly the moment her hand wraps around my neck.
My mind goes blank. My vision darkens into a fuzzy black void. There’s an echo in my ears. A ringing I can’t place. I can hear it, but I’m aware I can also hear nothing at all.
Then memories slam into me, blinding me with too much light and sound at once. One after the other after the other, until they pull me down and suffocate me in fear.
Hands on my neck. Gripping, squeezing, refusing to let go. Not the small hands of a Beta, but the larger, stronger hands of an Alpha.
Of my father.
Flash.
Chains around my wrists. My ankles. The smell of dank mildew and death. My body shakes with a chill that may never leave my bones.
Flash.
My head slams into the wall, the plaster cracks, and the sound is so loud I can’t tell if it’s the wall that broke or my skull.
Flash.
The storm rages outside. My mother screams, the sound so shrill and panicked I hear it over the echo of thunder. I slide my small child’s body under the bed and clap my hands over my ears, praying for the storm to end.
Flash.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice someone unlocked your door? Who are you protecting?” Father’s shaking me, slamming my head against the wall again and again. Demanding. Furious.
My fingers claw at his arms, his wrists, anything to make him stop. I shake my head frantically.
“I won’t tell you. I won’t.” I choke on the words, forcing past numb lips.
Flash.
My stomach cramps from hunger. My throat aches from thirst.
A drop of condensation slips down the side of the cell’s wall, and I pull my starved, shaking body across the floor, knowing it’s my only chance. But the chains don’t reach. I can’t reach.
Flash.
Father snarls. He’s going to kill me this time. I know it.
But it doesn’t matter. I’ll do anything to protect Caelan. Anything.
He leans closer, his face less than an inch from mine. “That is very, very stupid, Omega.”
“Omega.”
“Omega!”
My eyes snap open.
My heart’s pounding. My skin’s slick with sweat. My throat’s so dry I can barely swallow. Where—
Oh, gods, am I back in the basement? Did he put me back in the basement?
I search the room frantically, my eyes flitting back and forth, taking note of everything near me. The dark brick walls, the metal door, the female Beta crouched in front of me, looking at me like I’m suddenly very interesting.
No chains. No basement.
I’m not there. I’m not eight years old, either.
No Alphas.
He isn’t here. I’m not in my bedroom.
I take a deep breath. Release it. My shoulders relax just a fraction.
Not there. Not back there. You’re not back there.
The Doctor eyes me wearily, like she thinks I might attack. She purses her lips, tapping her pen on her clipboard.
“Neural trauma response.” She cocks her head, eyes narrowed in thought. “Either that, or you’re incredibly dramatic.”
“What?” I wheeze. My neck’s bruised and tender. My throat feels raw and ravaged. Darkness bleeds along the edge of my vision. I blink repeatedly, straining to focus.
I squeeze my hands into fists, hoping the pain of my nails digging into flesh will pull me out of the panic attack faster. It never takes long. I’ve become so used to them over the years.
I’ve trained myself not to linger in the memories. It’s not safe. Not safe to get lost in the fear. Not safe to feel the pain.
I knew that living with Father, and it’s especially important now, in this dangerous place, full of dangerous people.
I concentrate on breathing, counting to ten slowly and packing each memory away one at a time before shoving them all down somewhere deep. Somewhere, they can’t hurt me.
Some day, when I’m safe, I’ll let myself pull the memories out and examine each one. I’ll give myself a chance to feel all the emotions it’s not safe to feel now.
I’ve never been safe. I’m starting to think I never will be.
When I reach ten, I open my eyes to find the Beta frowning at me.
“If you’re going to pass out, get it over with. I’d like to get this done and get back to my actual patient.”
The flame in my chest flares higher. Hotter. Without considering the implications, I level her with a furious glare.
“If I’m not your patient, then why are you even here?”
“I told you. To make sure you don’t die before the Bastards decide what to do with you.” Her explanation makes me sound like a horse being prepared for slaughter instead of a human suffering from multiple injuries.
If I had any misconceptions about my place here, she just made them perfectly clear. I don’t think I’ve ever been as frustrated as I am right now. I don’t know where I am, who I’m with, or who these ‘Bastards’ are.
I should be with Caelan, not alone in this cold cell with this cruel woman. All my previous attempts to keep calm fall apart, like a castle made of sand; my tenuous hold on my emotions is knocked down, washed away by a wave of anxiety.
My Omega instincts follow, a desperate whine breaking free. It’s a pitiful, keening sound full of fear and pain and the need for comfort. My fingers twitch, instinctively searching for something soft, warm, and safe.
But there’s no nest to hide in. There’s nowhere to run. No way to escape this nightmare. I don’t know why the lack of a nest is pushing me over the edge now. It’s not like I’ve ever had a place to hide. There’s never been an escape from the cruelty.
There’s never been anywhere safe for me to run.
The reality of my situation is suddenly so clear, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.
The males who took me threw me in here without even asking for my side of the story.
They left me here for hours, alone and in pain.
When they finally send a Doctor, she does nothing but poke at my wounds and cut me off every time I try to speak.
To explain. Each moment is so crystal clear in my mind, looking back.
Fates, I’m so stupid.
All of this was planned. They aren’t going to ask for my side. They aren’t planning to ask me any questions at all, let alone let me explain what happened.
No one here is actually interested in the truth.
They already decided I am guilty. I don’t know when, and I don’t know why, but they’ve already made up their minds about me.
These men—these Bastards—are judge, jury, and executioner, wrapped up in brotherhood. Tied with a pretty bow made of vengeance.
Gods, I’m so naive. So stupid for not realizing it faster.
Of course, there’s a reason no one came to speak to me. Of course, there’s a reason why this Beta is treating me like trash.
Nothing I say matters. Nothing. Not even the absolute truth burning on a pyre of pretty, painful words will make a difference to how they see me.
“When was your last heat?”
The question is an ice-cold bucket of water on top of my blazing spiral of anxiety. I open my mouth to reply and cough, choking on my words.
“I’m sorry, what—”
“It’s not a difficult question. When was the last time you had a heat cycle? I assume your father brought in human Alphas to help you through it?”
Heat rushes to my face. I feel it climbing up my chest and crawling over my neck to settle in my cheeks. This has to be the most invasive question a stranger has ever asked me.
I don’t know what to say. Do I tell her the truth? What does it matter? What does this have to do with anything?
She’s staring at me again, studying me with that curious expression that makes me feel like a science experiment.
She raises a brow, expectant.
“I’ve never had a heat,” I admit.