AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No guests,” he said, plucking the nearest key off its hook. “And if I get any complaints about you, you’re out on your ass. Got it?”
Sorin nodded.
He knew he should have spoken up—that silence was enabling, and that if he left this man unchecked, he’d treat other people the same way he was treating Sorin right now—but there was no fight left in him. He needed to be alone so he could process what had happened and allow himself to grieve. If that meant shouldering abuse, so be it.
There would be other days to fight.
Or at least, he hoped there would be.
He was not deluded enough to think he’d escaped the danger he was in—there was a chance the agents of the council would track him down and put an end to him tonight—and if that turned out to be the case, he didn’t think he’d be able to get away this time. He was too tired to run and too unwell to come up with a clever escape plan.
If death did come for him tonight, he would let it take him.
He deserved it.
There was too much blood on his hands. Blood that never would have been spilled had he been strong enough to lead the Vanguard on his own.
It was the clerk who dragged him out of his dark thoughts. He made a phlegmy snort and tossed—not handed—Sorin the key. “Room Two,” he said. “It’s right next door to the office, so I’ll know if you’re up to no good.”
* * *
Room Two was stuffy and smelled like no one had cleaned it in months. It contained a single bed—the focal point of the room—and a desk that someone had carved into with a pair of scissors. The curtains, floor-length and sun-bleached, were drawn and the lights were off when Sorin entered.
He didn’t bother with the light switch.
He closed the door, locked it, and dragged himself across the grungy carpet to the bed, which he climbed onto fully clothed and curled up on. He’d wanted silence, but he didn’t get it. Not only was the screaming in his head deafening, but that evil voice was back, whispering vile things to him.
You could have stopped this.
They’re dead because of you.
All your hard work was for nothing.
Hundreds of years wasted, and all because you couldn’t pull yourself together.
You didn’t even make it a year without Bertram’s help.
You’re pathetic.
Why did you ever think you were good enough to do this on your own?
The last thought hit a painful place deep inside of Sorin that made the others hurt so much worse. He let out a dry sob and snatched the nearest pillow off the bed, clinging to it desperately as the agony of what had happened spread through his insides like cracks spiderwebbing across glass—cracks that expanded exponentially, weakening him from the inside until he was well and truly shattered.
What point was there in going on?
The Vanguard was destroyed, and without them, there would be no saving the omegas trapped in the Pedigree. Those selected to produce clutches would go mad, and their suffering would beget more suffering as new omegas took their place, thighs spread and ready to breed.
There was no hope left for them.
And no hope for Sorin, either.
He would never be forgiven for what he had done.
Without the Vanguard there to rise up and claim responsibility for what had happened, the blame would be put on Sorin alone. He would forever be seen as an evil, repugnant thing. A madman. The crazed omega so jealous of what he couldn’t have that he’d stolen another omega’s eggs.
Tears streamed silently down his face, dripping onto the bed.
He wasn’t those things.
