FIFTY-ONE #3
“Okay,” he says again, rougher. I reach a hand out to him, and he looks at my hand like it is something sacred and terrifying before he finally takes it.
“I’m still mad,” I tell him.
“I know.”
“I still missed you, you idiot,” I tell him quietly, my voice nothing more than an emotional rasp that I have to clear my throat to get rid of.
His fingers close around mine as he says, “I missed you every day, Kota.”
The room suddenly blurs at the edges and I frown at my brother, shaking my head harshly.
Nope. Absolutely not. I’m not about to sit here and cry in front of my pack, my brother, and government paperwork. It’s just not on the cards for this morning.
I squeeze his hand hard enough to make him wince.
“There,” I say. “Emotional moment complete. Nobody speak of it ever again.”
Ewan sniffles loudly and I whip my head toward him. “Are you crying?”
“No,” he says through a strain. “My headphones are just really sad.”
“They’re on the table,” I point out, literally pointing them out to the whole room.
“Oi, they’re emotionally vulnerable after their surgery,” he argues. “They’re projecting their emotions and that’s okay.”
Ellis mutters, “I need stronger coffee if I’m going to stand here listening to this.”
Valeria leaves shortly after with the terms signed by me, Mercer, Ellis, and herself. Not tucked away. Not hidden. Written, witnessed, and copied. One copy goes with her. One stays with Mercer. One stays with me. A folder with my name on it sits on the table.
Dakota O’Reilly.
Not asset. Not sample. And not miracle. Mine.
The first changes happen before sunset. Small ones but real ones. A guard knocks before entering the medical office and looks mildly traumatized when Ellis tells him he “may proceed like a civilized mammal.”
Two senior officers are removed from duty while Valeria digs into Hale’s friends.
Mercer locks the sample fridge with three keys and gives one to me.
I hold it in my palm, cold and sharp-edged. A key to my own blood. What, and I couldn’t possibly fathom how to stress this enough, the fuck?
“This is weird,” I say.
Mercer nods. “Yes.”
“I kind of love it.”
The doctor pauses. “That kind of concerns me.”
“As it should, Mercer. As it should.”
By the time evening falls after another day in the apocalypse, I’m outside under a sky full of thin clouds and stubborn stars.
The compound smells like damp earth, smoke, disinfectant, and dinner that someone is definitely burning.
Not that I can complain, because it’s an actual dinner.
Like, real dinner. Not just soup in a can or dry noodles that have been out of date for four years.
My pack sits around me without turning into walls.
Fletcher sits on the step below mine, shoulder near my knee.
Kaito sits beside him, sharpening a blade with slow, even strokes.
Ewan leans back on his elbows, headphones over one ear and the other free so he can still listen.
Xeon sits beside me, close enough that our sleeves touch.
And then there’s my brother, who sits on my other side.
For once, no one stands in front of me. No one blocks the view, no one makes my safety look like a locked door.
I look at Haven Ridge. I look at the fence. The gate. The people moving behind it like life has the nerve to keep going. For six years, survival meant hiding. It meant hair hidden. Scent dead. Doors locked. Now everyone knows what I am.
Omega.
Immune, maybe.
Bonded.
Still here.
And somehow, I am not looking for a way to run. You can’t convince me that’s not deeply suspicious. I won’t believe you if you tried.
Ewan bumps my ankle with his boot. “What’s happening in that terrifying little head?”
“Cookie policies. Cure ethics. Possible curtains,” I answer without really thinking about it.
Fletcher smiles slowly and it makes me feel like I stepped into something I shouldn’t have. “Curtains?”
“Our room looks like a bunker had a breakdown,” I tell him seriously, nodding like it’s obvious.
Kaito’s gaze lifts. “Our room?”
Oh hell. That’s what I walked into. Damn it. Heat climbs into my face, which is actually rude, ridiculous, and wildly unnecessary after last night. How the hell can I even blush after that? What is even wrong with me?
“Yes,” I say blandly. “Our room.”
The bonds warm, all four of them. Not claiming, just answering.
Maine groans. “I need fresh air.”
“You’re already outside,” I point out, looking around to make sure that we are, in fact, outside.
“Not fresh enough.”
Ewan grins. “Want my headphones? They’ve grown to be very emotionally supportive.”
“They look like they lost a fight with a gate,” Maine counters.
“They won in spirit.”
I laugh. Small. Tired. Mine.
Xeon turns his hand palm-up on the step between us and I only hesitate for a split second before I put my hand in his. Fletcher’s fingers brush my knee. Kaito’s shoulder rests against his. Ewan’s boot stays hooked near my ankle. Maine nudges the brim of his hat down over my eyes.
I shove it back up. “Rude.”
“You were brooding.”
“It’s called reflecting, Maine. You should try it sometime.”
“Same haunted little face,” he says, poking my cheek with the tip of his index finger.
So I bite his shoulder. Mostly gently.
He yelps. “Kota.”
Not that gently after all.
“Poke the haunted face, pay the consequences,” I joke as soon as I let go of him.
The laugh that moves through us does not fix everything, but it’s real.
Tomorrow, Mercer opens the first file. Valeria will start tearing out Hale’s corruption and rot. And the compound will either learn, or I become everyone’s worst nightmare with knives. Maybe even both.
But tonight, I allow myself to sit under a broken sky with my brother on one side, my pack on the other, and a key in my pocket with my name on it.
Because when I look at the gate, I don’t see a way to run.
I finally see a way forward.