Then, as they round the corner?—
A sharp, stifled whimper cuts through the silence.
I jerk upright.
The sound is small, but it hits like a blade.
Someone’s hurting.
And they’re close.
I step back into the entryway and glance around. Mrs. Danner’s gone. Good.
I creep to the base of the stairs, listening. The house feels still—too still. My cast itches, a maddening prickling under the surface. I squeeze it, trying to ignore the sensation.
Then I hear it. A wet, broken sob.
My head snaps toward the double doors beside me. They’re shut, but shadows flicker across the gap beneath them. The scent of blood floods my nose—thick and unmistakable. I know this room. I think one of the nurses called it a triage room. It’s the same one they brought me to when I first arrived. Cold. Harsh light. Machines I didn’t understand.
A scream rips through the silence, and I flinch. Something crashes inside. Feet scramble. My stomach turns, but I reach for the doorknob anyway, fingers trembling as I turn it.
My whole body locks up as I stare at the chaos before me.
Half a dozen nurses in navy scrubs crowd around a table. A pale omega lies there, blood smeared across his lips and chest. He’s so small. Barely conscious.
“Please!” the omega whines, then coughs. Blood sprays from between his puffy lips, and my heart pounds in the center of my face. “I…this….stop…” He lolls his head to one side. For a brief moment, his bloodshot eyes connect with mine, then they roll upward, and his body goes limp.
The threat of tears makes my nose run, and my gut clenches hard with fear. The nurses are all scrambling as some machine makes a horrible, constant beeping sound. Icatch a few words like “bleeding out” and “pressure is falling”.
I shouldn’t be here.
More machines scream.
I freeze, heart pounding, rooted in place. “Get me a clamp!” someone shouts.
Blood-soaked bandages hit the floor with a smack as clean ones are pressed against the omega’s stomach. They quickly bleed red. A nurse scrambles to find something on a nearby cart, rummaging through packets of gauze and glass bottles. Someone begins to push violently on the omega’s breastbone.
It’s all so horrible.
“Shit!” Charlie’s voice cuts through the noise. “Autry? What are you doing in here?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“Get her out!” Dr. Plume barks from somewhere, but I don’t look for him. All I can see is the omega’s vacant eyes. They’re glassy and unfocused.
“I—I’m sorry,” I whisper, voice cracking. But I still don’t move.
Charlie steps in front of me, blocking my view of the young man. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs gently. “Let’s step back, Autry.” His voice is calm, not angry, but firm with concern. He removes his latex gloves with practiced ease, tossing them into a nearby bin. His long fingers wrap around my upper arm, guiding me away from the chaos. “You don’t need to see this,” he adds softly, his touch warm and reassuring.
He leads me into the entryway, shutting the door behind us with a quiet click. “Why aren’t you in your room?” he asks, leaning down to meet my eyes. His dark hair falls forward across his forehead.
I’d normally be flustered at having the handsome beta so close, but I’m too shocked by what I just saw.
Still numb, I blink up at him. “Is that omega going to be okay?”
Charlie hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. “He’ll be fine,” he says, offering a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s a lie, but I appreciate the attempt to soothe me.
“Autry?” Mrs. Danner’s voice hits my ears, and I bow my head. I’m sure I’ll get in trouble for not staying put. “Why aren’t you in Dr. Plume’s office?”
