Page 37 of Knot A Trace: Part Two

I wake up to John slapping my face and shaking me, his eyes frantic as he looms over me.

“Hey. Hey,” he says far too loudly, his pupils huge. “What do you want? What should I do for you?”

The fluorescent lights are harsh against my eyes, so I close them and lay my head back down.

“Summpressnt,” I attempt to slur out.

But it’s useless.

He needs my blood pure to make his drugs.

Even if a part of him cares, the need for money and O outweighs any empathy he might have.

So, I just listen to him whine and ramble.

“I’m really sorry,” he says as I keep my face pressed against the cool linoleum. His voice cracks. “I really want to be a good Alpha for you, Skylar.”

“Mm-hmm,” I murmur. “Not an Alpha, though.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I’m grateful someone’s at the door, because it means he’ll finally leave me alone.

I’ve learned that he has the occasional visitor, which I’m assuming means he’s selling his product.

I don’t care anymore.

Eventually, I’ll die, and he won’t have any more product to sell.

Unless he takes another Omega…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Shit,” he hisses, scrambling to his feet. That reaction is expected; he’s always jumpy at anything out of the ordinary.

The knocking continues, so intense I hear the front door rattle on its hinges.

It makes my head hurt.

I try to fall back asleep. I tell myself if I wake up later, then I can have a shower.

Now, I just need to rest.

But shouting catches my attention.

Multiple voices are yelling at once, an argument escalating out of control.

The chain may be gone from my ankle, but I can’t even stand up.

More yelling.

SLAM.

The front door is shaking on its hinges.

Someone is trying to break in.

I can’t find it in myself to care.

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