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I’ve been watching the temple.
Only quietly—when no one else is paying me any attention, while I’m moving around the island or working the fields. I go on walks late at night, tell anyone who asks that I’m deep in contemplation.
It’s not a lie…not entirely.
I’m just contemplating springing every omega out of this prison.
I press my back against the cold stone of the temple’s outer walls, eyes scanning for any sign of movement. Security is tight, like I expected, but not tight enough. There’s always a gap, always a slip—and that’s where I fit in. I wait for the guard to pass, his footsteps echoing into the night, then I make my move.
The descent down to the basement is a dance with darkness—each step taken with precision, each breath measured. The air grows thicker as I delve deeper, and the stench hits me—the unmistakable scent of eros. It clings to the walls, to the very air I breathe, and it brings back memories of the lab under Dreamland, memories I’d rather forget.
Fragrant, floral. A little like Aisling, a lot like pure, distilled sex.
“Focus,” I mutter to myself.
I find the entrance to the lab, just like I thought I would. Hidden behind an unassuming door, it opens with a silent plea to a world of pain below. I hustle down the corridor, the same back entrance where I think they transported the omega near the slaughterhouse.
The facility sprawls before me, a maze of sterile white and chrome. No warmth, no life, just the hum of machinery and the faint whimpers that seep through the walls. There are people here, but they’re locked behind solid doors or bars, in holding cells where they’re taken out only for two purposes.
Experimentation…and breeding.
Footsteps light and heart pounding, I navigate the passages, every turn taking me closer, every sound a potential alarm. I thought there would be more security, but I guess this is just another example of how thoroughly Terra Vitae has locked down this island—they trust that no one will flee, that they wouldn’t fling themselves from the cliffs in an attempt to escape.
Or maybe they just devalue the lives of their prisoners that much—not caring if a stray omega jumps into the sea and drowns.
Heavy footsteps reach my ears, and I tuck myself into a shadowy corner, behind a row of shelves holding boxes full of pills. I hold my breath, hoping they won’t catch my scent. The smell of eros and fear is so strong down here that I don’t think they will…but if they do, I’m ready. I clench my fists, square my shoulders—
—they move on.
All I need to do is find out where the omegas are being held, and then I can sneak out and make further plans. Once Rook has a pickup point, he can come get us, and I’m sure Aisling knows this island like the back of her own hand…
“Let go of me!”
I still, listening. The voice was distant and muffled, but definitively female, and I sneak forward, waiting to catch a glance of the action. Turning a corner, I find an alpha guard slamming a cell door behind him with a ring of metal, spitting out blood on the floor.
“You fucking bitch,” he mutters. “You’ll pay for that—“
“I’ve dealt with worse than you, asshole,” the female voice snarls back. “Now get lost!”
He growls and stalks down the hall in the other direction, leaving a spatter of blood on the sterile white floor. I move only after a couple minutes, pacing myself so I can be sure the coast is clear.
The cell is a large room with three women inside, all naked and covered in dirt. One of them has a black eye, and another bruised knuckles—and they catch sight of me as soon as I see them, two cringing back while the one with bruised knuckles stands in front of them like a sentinel.
“Come back for more, dickhead?” she hisses. “I just punched your friend in the nose—“
I raise my finger to my lips and she stops in her tracks, eyes wide.
“I’m here to help,” I whisper. “Aisling sent me.”
The girl in front looks back at her friends, then comes closer and crouches in front of me. Her strawberry blonde hair is a tangled mess, dark circles under her eyes—but those eyes sparkle with fierce intelligence.
“Talk to me,” she says. “Hurry.”
I crouch before the transparent wall, my voice a hush of urgency. “Plan’s in motion to get you all out. Names. Now.”
The woman with steel in her stare nods. “Ruby,” she says, and her voice holds the weight of leadership. Her eyes dart to mine, a silent plea for the one they left behind. “Is this about Lark?”
“Lark is safe,” I assure her, and a collective breath, hushed and heavy, ripples through the group.
