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“I…I…”
“Breathe, Hazel.”
And if this isn’t the world’s most fucked up dynamic. She’s wearing the same expression that some of the new Alphas have when they first arrive at the base. It’s the same tactic Draven and he used to calm them down when they’re having their existential crises.
But surprisingly, she listens. She gulps down air, the sound pained and agonized against her cramped throat.
“Good. Now, exhale.”
It takes a few moments and one more time of sticking his foot out to keep the elevator doors from closing, but he talks his pretty little hostage out of her panic attack.
And once her rich brown eyes go from terror back to their hostile glare, he grips her arm and leads her down the hallway.
“Don’t forget, I’m the one with the military training here,” he says conversationally. “If you try to run, I doubt you’ll be able to evade our trigger-happy friend from earlier.”
She stiffens, and he allows himself a small smile.
Of course she would think of running. She would be stupid not to plan to, but it seems she forgot that there’s an asshole with a weapon running around.
They’re probably looking for him, but he doesn’t bother to remind her.
She’s alternating between shock, sorrow, and fear, so her brain isn’t using as much logic as it should.
And if he can nudge it in the direction he wants it to go, that doesn’t make him a bad guy.
It makes him resourceful.
They make it to her unit number and he gently grabs her wrist. He presses her palm against the scanner next to the door and listens as the door unlocks.
Successful.
It was brilliant of the city to build the apartments this way. The only way in is through the Omega’s handprint, or the handprint of an authorized emergency contact. If for some reason the Omega cannot scan their hand, they have a voice activated emergency code.
Breaking into the apartment would be nearly impossible. Even the windows are too small for a body to squeeze through.
Lincoln City thought of everything.
He spares another glance at her as he opens her apartment door. Her plush lips are pulled into a thin line and her brow is furrowed with stress.
“When’s the last time you slept?” he asks her, and she makes that incredulous face at him again. He still hasn’t let go of her wrist, and when she tries to maneuver him off of her, he only grips harder.
Never to the point of pain, though. Just an intense hold.
He has no interest in hurting her, no matter how much she may think otherwise.
In fact, every moment he spends with her, the need toprotectincreases.
But he has a mission to accomplish. He’s here for a reason, and it has nothing to do with the Omega in front of him.
Or maybe it has everything to do with her,a traitorous voice whispers.
He shakes the thought away, and they step into the apartment while she mutters something about her sleeping habits being ‘none of his business.’ The lights flick on automatically and he takes a moment to survey her living area.
Her apartment is small but furnished well with soft browns and creams. A small kitchen area is to the right of the front room, and further back is an open white door, which he assumes to be her bedroom.
A desk sits in the far-left corner with her laptop perched on top.
It’s the perfect setup.
