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He stares at the walls of his prison, breathing heavily, sorrow poisoning his veins.
The lock on the door rattles, and he quickly shoves the contraband under his flat pillow.
Ryland opens the door a crack, a smirk fixed on his face. His nose is broken, and that makes Abel feel better.
But only momentarily.
“Kid didn’t make it,” he says smugly to Abel. “Thought you should know.”
The door slams shut and locks before Abel can respond.
CHAPTER 5
HAZEL
Now that she’s unemployed,time moves slower.
Lifemoves slower.
She thinks about applying for another job but can’t find the willpower to do it.
Her brain is in a fog of depression, and she spends most of her time zoned out and doing her best to not think about the little boy.
Her cheek still stings from the slap and guilt stabs at her gut.
If I didn’t exist, Alphas wouldn’t need to be sent away.
But whose fault is that?
She’s never questioned it before. She’s accepted that she’s special in the government’s eyes.
All she needs to do to keep her bills paid is volunteer articles of clothing every week until her scent becomes less potent in her mature years.
It keeps the Alphas subservient and willing to stay in the military for life, never to be seen by the public again.
Herscentprotects the city.
It protects the entire country.
Everything she wants or needs is in Lincoln City.
All she has to do is obey.
It used to make sense. It used to be enough.
She tugs at her unwashed hair as she paces around the apartment, ripping out light brown greasy strands as her bottom lip quivers.
A seven-year-old child is gone.
A knock on her door interrupts her panic, and she opens it to find Ava, her arms crossed as she regards her friend.
“Hazel, what the hell? You look awful.”
“Thanks,” Hazel deadpans, swinging the door open so Ava can step inside. Normally, she would be embarrassed at the messy state of her apartment, but now she can’t find it within herself to care. The coffee table is littered with children’s books and games that she had planned on sharing with her class and a half-empty bottle of white wine.
“You know that messes with your suppressants,” Ava chides, pointing at the bottle. “And why does it smell like smoke in here?”
Hazel sighs. “You know why.”
