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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.