Page 3 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“You’re in Sentinel’s medical wing.” She refills the cup from a pitcher on the side table. “You’ve been here about a week now.”

A week.

It all comes rushing back... the basement. The knife. The rope cutting into my wrists. And then—kind eyes and a voice telling me it was over.

“What is Sentinel?” I ask.

The nurse pauses, pitcher in hand. “I think it’s better if you ask Pack Hayes that.” She gestures toward the door, and I peek toward the doorway to see three men standing in the hallway.

I recognize Declan immediately—he’s in jeans and a gray henley instead of tactical gear, but he still has the same kind eyes. He meets my gaze and nods.

Beside him stands a tall, dark-haired man, his black eyes moving over the room slowly, taking stock.

By the door, the third man leans against the frame with his arms folded. He’s the biggest of the three by a wide margin, broad enough that he takes up most of the doorway. When his gaze reaches me, it stays there too long.

“I’ll leave you to it,” the nurse says, giving my hand a gentle pat. “Just press this button if you need anything.” She indicates a call button beside my pillow, then slips past the alphas and disappears down the corridor.

The three men enter the room. Declan takes up position by the window; the big one stays near the door. The tall one walks directly to my bedside and pulls up a chair like he owns the place.

I’m guessing he probably does.

“Sophie,” he says. “I’m Griffin Hayes. This is Nolan Reid”—a nod toward the man at the door—“and you’ve already met Declan Murphy.”

I say nothing. My fingers curl into the sheets.

“How are you feeling?” Griffin asks. The question sounds practiced, like he has asked it a hundred times before.

“What is this place?” I counter. “What is Sentinel?”

Griffin leans back in his chair, studying me with those dark eyes. “Sentinel Security is a private organization that operates with government oversight. On paper, we provide security consulting and threat assessment for high-profile clients.”

“And off paper?”

The ghost of a smile crosses his face. “We help omegas. Or anyone who’s being abused by people powerful enough to evade the legal system. We find them, we extract them, and we make sure the people who hurt them never hurt anyone else again.”

Abused.

The word hits something in me.

Yeah, I think distantly. I was abused.

I never wanted to think of myself that way. Victims were weak. They were helpless. I fought every single time, even when I knew it was pointless. I refused to break, even when they were breaking me.

But I was still a victim. I’m still lying in this bed with an IV in my arm and scars on my body that will never fade.

“What happened to the alphas?” I force my voice to stay flat, though my fingers tighten in the sheets.

Griffin’s expression doesn’t change, but Nolan shifts near the door. Declan turns from the window.

“They’re being held here,” Griffin says.

Every muscle in my body goes rigid.

“They’re imprisoned and restrained,” Declan adds quickly, stepping closer. “Twenty-four hour security. Multiple checkpoints between their location and this wing. You have nothing to worry about.”

I make myself breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The way I used to do in the basement when I heard footsteps on the stairs.

“What will happen to them?” I ask.