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“Well, too bad for you, they’re not here, and I can promise you that they won’t find us here,” he said with a laugh as he climbed on top of the gurney with me. The metal protested again, but he didn’t acknowledge it.
For a moment, I thought that he was going to tear away my clothes, but he pressed the blade into my torso, digging it into my flesh until I couldn’t hold back my screams. The cuts were deeper now, the pain worse. He was no longer keeping it surface level.
He wasn’t interested in answers. I’d given them what little I knew, and they weren’t impressed. Now, he wanted my pain. He was getting off on the screams, protests, and tears, and the fact that no one had intervened meant we were likely alone here. That thought chilled me to the bone. I’d seen how far he’d go under supervision. There would be no end to my pain now.
Another cut, this one into the meat of my arm, had hoarse cries echoing in the room, his laughter mixing with it to make a symphony of pain and excitement.
Any time I’d quiet down to a whimper, he’d inflict more pain. My voice was cracking and strained, and I feared what would happen when I had no more screams left for him.
The door burst open, startling him enough that he dropped the knife. It clattered to the concrete floor as silence descended on the room. He turned to look, but I had a perfect view. A sob broke the quiet as relief overwhelmed me.
My mates had found me.
Weston was swift, snatching the fallen blade before burying it in Danny’s throat. The alpha didn’t stand a chance to protest. He was thrown to the ground, his head cracking on the concrete with a satisfying thud.
Sterling and Hayes started to undo the straps. The moment I was free, I shoved them away and dropped to the floor, moving over the man who had tortured me for hours. The blade protested when I tried to pull it free, but I didn’t relent, wiggling it back and forth until it was in my hands.
The first blow had pain radiating through my arms, but I pulled it free again, raining hit over hit on his chest. Blood covered my hands, and my screams tore out of me in a feral war cry.
Tears streamed down my face until my vision had blurred completely. Even that didn’t stop me. It wasn’t until the energy and adrenaline started to ebb, my hands shaking too badly to keep going, that I dropped the knife.
“Hey, hey…” Cyrus’s voice was deep and soothing as he dragged me into his lap. He didn’t care about his suit or the blood. He rocked me back and forth, his arms tight around me.
The others spoke to me, but their words were a distant echo. I was exhausted, and the blood loss was making my head swim. I could barely hold myself upright between the dizziness and the pulse of pain that came from too many sources to name.
“We have to get her home and get the doctor there,” Cyrus said. Someone helped us up, but I couldn’t tell who. The overwhelming smell of blood drowned out every other scent.
All I knew was that I was safe. The pain was over.
When I woke again, the smell of blood was gone, replaced by the clinical cleanliness that you only found in hospitals. That thought had my heart slamming in my chest, but someone gently held me down when I tried to sit up. A moment later, something cool hit my veins, and the panic gave way. My head swam pleasantly, and for some strange reason, there was no real pain.
“You’re safe,” Weston promised. He shifted on the bed next to me, and I looked up into my mate’s face.
The fear and worry there didn’t belong, but I couldn’t figure out what happened. It was as if I were watching a slideshow. The memories came and went so fast it was hard to make them out—the coffee shop, torture, pain, my mates rescuing me, then his death.
I felt no remorse. Danny would have taken my life happily and deserved nothing more than what he’d gotten.
“We’ve got you.” This time, it was Sterling’s voice. I almost sobbed when the scent of his spiced cider joined Weston’s ginger and whiskey. They had become my safe space at some point, and they were chasing away the lingering demons pulling at the edges of my psyche.
“Where are we?” Now that my brain was slowly piecing everything together, I took a second to look around. Despite smelling like a hospital, we were in a bedroom of some sort. The king-sized bed was loaded with fluffy, expensive blankets. The lights above us weren’t fluorescent, just modern and ordinary.
“Another one of our safe houses,” Cyrus answered. I glanced at the foot of the bed where he stood. His hand lingered over my leg as if he wanted to offer comfort but was afraid to touch me. “I thought it was best that no one knew we were here.”
Did I look that bad?
When I lifted my arms, I winced. There was more purple and blue than tan.
“They died for this,” Weston said. His hand gently trailed over my arms.
“Hayes?” I asked. He was the only one I hadn’t seen.
The sound of something moving in the corner had me looking over. Hayes was walking up, all calm gone from his face. He was pale and worried, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. The pain in his eyes matched the others’.
“I’m here, Bailey,” he promised. “I’m so sorry.”
“You guys can’t keep apologizing. You didn’t take me,” I protested, not ready to go through this loop again.
“We didn’t,” Cyrus said bitterly, “but our people did. My own fucking brother. Admittedly, he didn’t know you were our omega, but he was behind the abduction.”
