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Omegas need comfort. They need pillows and blankets to nest with. They need a fucking nest, for Fate’s sake!

Denying an Omega those basic rights is nothing short of dehumanizing. It’s fucking abuse. Omegas have been removed from their homes for situations far less awful than this.

This is… Fates. This is so much worse than I could have ever imagined.

Guilt churns in my stomach. My anger’s no longer directed solely at her father.

I fucking left her like this. It’s only been a few days, but… I assumed⁠—

I assumed that at the very least, Varenthrall provided his Omega daughter with the bare minimum required to prevent designation-related illnesses.

This shit is cruel. It’s sadistic. Her instincts probably register her father’s treatment as a rejection. Doesn’t he realize how sick he’s probably making her? Doesn’t he care?

My nails dig into my palms so hard I feel the skin split. I don’t rein in my instincts. I can’t. They’ve taken stock of her condition and are screaming at me.

Protect. Mine. Claim. Mine. Fuck. Mine. MINE.

My hands shake. I unclench them and flex out my fingers, trying to regain a bit of control, but it’s not working.

I’m so close. So fucking close to her. The need to protect her is overwhelming.

I want to touch her. Breathe her in. I want to wrap my body around hers more than I want my next breath.

I crouch down and before I realize I’m moving, my hand stretches, reaching for her. It hovers in the air between us, her hair so close to my fingertips I can almost feel it.

She looks fragile. She’s practically shivering from the cold, wearing nothing more than a short-sleeved shirt and pajama bottoms.

My nostrils flare instinctively, my Alpha desperate for even a hint of her scent.

At first, all I can smell are suppressants, but on its heels, there’s—something.

A hint of something new and soft. Honey, maybe, or… fuck.

I inhale again, searching, begging⁠—

There. Right there.

I can almost catch it. The merest suggestion of her Omega perfume. It’s not much. Not nearly enough to confirm a Scent Match. But it’s enough for my Alpha to explode forward, reaching for it like a lifeline.

Reality rushes in, and I gasp, finding myself struggling for a full breath. When I stand, my legs shake.

I bend over, bracing my hands on my thighs for support.

Fates, what am I doing?

Seeing her in this hellhole, deprived of her basic needs, is pushing me too far. I’m torn between taking her away right now and damn the consequences, and tracking down Varenthrall and ripping his spine out of his fucking neck.

One thing’s for sure. Eventually, I will get vengeance.

For her.

For the way he’s kept her here like a fucking animal. For the way she’s been abused. For the fear in her eyes when she was near him. For whatever the fuck Alexander has to do with all of this.

The pull to be next to her is too strong. Giving in, I crouch back down next to her mattress.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

My gaze lands on her back and I follow the line of her spine from neck to waist, getting more and more pissed as I do. I can see each ridge of bone pressing through the cotton of her shirt, like she hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks.