Chapter 13
DIANA
Oh, goody. I can feel Judge somewhere in this massive contraption, a faint pulse through the bond.
So he really made it, didn’t he…
It means literally nothing to me right now. Am I in shock? Is that what this feels like? I’ve always had moments of feeling shocked, but not being in a state of it.
The memory surfaces like a corpse floating up from deep water of my parents having the conversation with me that they were going to give me away.
I was twelve. Twelve. And they sat me down at the kitchen table that had extra salt because Mom couldn’t stop salting things.
They were all calm and reasonable and explained that I'd be going to another bunker.
That I'd be mated to a man in his twenties. That it was for the good of our community, for alliances, for survival. That he wouldn’t touch me until I was sixteen, as if that made it better.
It’s not like I didn’t know this happened in our circles. It was the fact that I was so young, like the deal was too good to not give me over, and they were so willing to sacrifice me. That my biology was going to be rewritten by an alpha I never met before I was an adult.
Clearly, I never got over that betrayal. It lives in my chest like a splinter too deep to dig out. Selene leaving me here feels familiar to my nervous system now.
Maybe this is just my life. Everyone is either using me or is never truly my friend. They take what they need and disappear, abandoning me with the wreckage. Every single time. Or they lock me in an attic, and dress up Roxy to take a role I may have eventually come to enjoy.
The only person who never did was Dean.
My brother.
Hot tears stream down my face as I say his name in my mind, and it's like touching a bruise that is forever present.
Dean.
I weep. It's a name I've buried for a long time, shoved down into the darkest corner of my memory because I can't stand the pain of it.
There's no medicine to take for this kind of hurt.
I feel the wreckage of my life. The frayed strings I desperately tried to tie together so I could actually live.
So I could function, and smile, and pretend I was okay when nothing was okay, when nothing had been okay since I ran and kept running—
I can't handle this.
With the torrent of emotions flooding through me, I feel so unstable. So broken. So fucking empty. This is why I keep them locked away. This is why it's not safe to feel, not safe to revisit the past, not safe to remember the people I've lost.
The only person who ever truly helped me is dead.
“Dean…”
His name escapes my lips like a prayer, like a wound reopening.
I pull my legs closer to my chest, curling into myself, my body shaking as I wail.
My cheeks are wet, saliva stringing between my teeth.
The sound of my sorrows echoes off the metal walls, and I don't care.
Let them hear. Let everyone on this nightmare train hear the omega falling apart in their belly.
They’re probably used to it.
I clench the rose so tight the thorns pierce my palm, but it feels good, somehow. The pain is real.
There's panic in my chest suddenly—a foreign sensation, almost like I can feel him trying to purr through the bond. Trying to soothe me from a distance.
Oh fuck. That's right. He can probably feel this. Every sob. Every broken thought. Every wave of grief crashing through me.
For a moment, I look up, searching for my alpha through tear-blurred vision.
Does he care? Would he take this pain away if he could?
I'm so terrified to know what the fuck he was doing with Roxy.
I can't survive that answer. I can't survive knowing he betrayed me too, and now he's bound to me until death, and there's no escape, no way out, no—
I can barely breathe.
And then I hear something heavy approaching.
I sniff, which doesn't help much because my nostrils are basically entirely closed up from crying. But adrenaline floods my system anyway, shoving aside the grief with brutal efficiency, because survival doesn't care if your heart is broken. Survival only cares about the next five seconds.
And in the next five seconds, I see the dirty, matted face of a warrog.
It's massive. Bigger than any I've seen, bigger than the one that cowboy was riding. Its vibrant, glossy eyes are yellow and hungry, fixed on me with the kind of focus that says prey. Drool drips from its muzzle. Its claws scrape against the metal floor.
I don't think twice.
I take off running.
I dart around corners, having no fucking idea where I'm going, the rose still clenched in my hand, just trying to get away. The Mirage is a labyrinth of corridors, curtains, dead ends—I’m sprinting through it blind, my lungs burning, my ankle screaming when I twist it on the stairs.
I shriek in terror when I hear the beast snap at me, feel the rush of hot air as its jaws close inches from my shoulder.
I jump down a set of steps, stumbling as my ankle gives out completely, and try to keep going.
I fly forward without any effort, hitting the ground hard, and I'm aware that some part of it got me.
There's a sensation of heat and pain across my back—claws, teeth, I don't know—but I can also barely feel it through the adrenaline.
I'm on my ass now, scooting backward as fast as I can, watching the warrog advance as my back burns, a sense of tissue being torn and unusable more pronounced than anything. It snarls, low and rumbling, savoring the moment. Playing with its food. I stare into those massive, golden eyes that have decided I’m its next meal, and I have no idea what to do.
So, I scream out in terror. And with another step of its massive paw, something shifts inside me, some final thread snapping, and the terror becomes rage.
"Just kill me!" I shout at it, my voice raw and cracked. "Just fucking do it! Get it over with!”
The warrog opens its mouth to deliver the request, rows of teeth gleaming in the low light, strings of saliva drooping between its teeth—
And then its eyes look to the side before it moves its blocky head. My hands fly over my eyes instinctively, hearing a disgusting sound of flesh being pierced, and when I lower them, a thick, massive body is standing between us.
Judge.
My body is frozen, my mind uncomprehending, as Judge literally grabs the warrog's mouth. Its teeth pierce his hands, blood welling up immediately, and he doesn't even flinch. He just pulls. Muscles straining, tendons standing out in his neck, visible from underneath his coat.
And he breaks the jaw completely in half with a massive yank, the warrog shrieking a horrible sound that makes my ears ring. It shakes its head, Judge’s hands awkwardly dislodging from its teeth, and then the beast tenses, shrieking more. It just backs away, slowly screeching…
Judge turns to me, chest heaving, hands dripping blood onto the floor. "Diana.”
“Don’t come near me!”
He stops. Just... stops. Mid-step. Panting, holding his bleeding hands up like a surrender, his echo eyes alive with fury and concern in equal measure. The whites are more visible than I've ever seen them. He looks half-feral, like he’s refraining from going on a murder rampage.
The man from the underbelly, the one who has to be Sid, runs around the corner behind him. "WHAT DID YOU DO—"
The man halts as he sees Judge and the blood on his hands. Violence radiates off the alpha like a physical force as Judge slowly moves his head to give Sid his partial attention, but clearly refuses to let me leave his line of sight. "Go the fuck away, or I'll rip your jaw off too."
His voice makes my muscles loosen. The deep, warm rasp that soothes me far too easily.
"Oh shit." Sid takes a few steps back. “Yes, sir, Judge.”
And like that, we’re alone. Judge lowers his head slightly as his full attention returns to me, like he's trying to make himself smaller. "Let me see your back."
"I don't want you!"
He gets down on one knee. Slowly. Those wild eyes never leave mine, never blinking. Just staring me down with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "Let me see your back, Diana. Blood is pooling behind you.”
I can feel it through the bond—the sincerity, the desperation, the raw aching need. And fuck, I want to give in and just let him take care of me.
"Everyone fucks me over," I say, my voice cracking, still lost in everything I’ve been carrying, all the sleepless nights getting to me. "So why should you be different?"
"No," he responds, firm like Judge would be. “I can explain it all.”
"I don't even care what it is. I shouldn't be mated and bonded to someone who literally parades around another fucking omega!” It feels so cleansing to get this out.
His lips thin. His eyes harden. Something dangerous flickers across his face. "Roxy looks like you," he says finally, his eyes glancing down behind me, then back to meet my gaze.
Once I start laughing, I simply can’t stop. “I don’t think that makes it any better,” I say, starting to feel the depth of the pain in my back, which steals my breath.
“It means I thought it was best to put all of the attention on her."
My smile fades. I can feel how eager he is through the bond, how hungry his energy is for me. How much he wants me to understand, to forgive, to come back. As long as he's bonded to me, I’m too weak to these suggestions. I can't help needing him.
I hate it.
"I am sorry, Diana." That actually surprises me, because I doubt those are words the alpha never speaks. “That all could have been handled better.”
My face winces when I breathe too deeply as it makes my back ache, and his body moves in the subtlest ways, like he’s about to lurch forward, but then hesitates. It shows me I’m nearly inches away from him taking action, something I probably can’t stop once he decides to.