Page 125 of Wild Omega

“Red?” I call, my pulse spiking. “I’m going to cut a hole in this door, but not the whole thing. I promise we won’t come in.”

“No!” Panic floods her voice.

I grit my teeth and set the tool in position. “Please make sure you aren’t near the door.” If she hurts herself on the other side, I’ll never forgive myself, but her life’s at risk with the way things are.

The whir of the electrical motor drowns out everything else. Thumps sound on the other side as Red panics, kicking the nearby wall. My muscles burn as I hold the tool in place to carve out a one-foot-square piece from the bottom of the door. The wooden block plops to the floor and I snatch it away.

“See, Red? Just a hole to pass you water.” I motion for Ricky to get one of the plastic bottles and he brings it over and rolls it through the hole.

“Please have a drink, Red?” he begs. “It’s just water.”

We wait stiffly in silence as Red moans on the other side. Then she goes quiet and a minute later the plastic crinkles as she picks up the bottle.

Ricky and I share a sigh of relief. One step in the right direction.

Red moans again and Ricky flinches, dropping onto his stomach to look through the hole. “I’m here for you Red.”

I lean against the wall. One step may not be enough.

Chapter fifty-two

Red

It burns. Everything. My body, the room, my throat, and most of all my head. Even time burns, blurring between shadow and light. I tuck into a ball on the floor, and roll side to side, trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt. A volcano simmers in my core, threatening to erupt through my skin any second. It’ll turn me to ash.

My pussy throbs like it has a life of its own, weeping and wailing for an alpha to cradle it close. The aches ricochet up my torso and down again, building with every tick of the clock on the wall. Each switch of the second hand thumps into me like a blow.

The sound’s so grating, I drag myself over to the wall and spider crawl off the floor to reach it. The polished wood formed in the shape of the continent hosts antique-looking gold hands. I want to set it down and pull the battery out, but I’m not in control. I whimper as O-11 hurls the noisy thing to the floor.

Like me, the clock won’t die easily. The wood splits up the middle and the hour hand goes flying, but the device in the back keeps ticking over. “Stop! Just stop!” I cry as I yank on the pieces.

Stop. The words I desperately wanted the House of Bitches nutjobs to obey. The command I wish O-11 would follow. But the sane Red has flown away. Red alert.

More tears flow down my cheeks to choke me. As I collapse on the floor beside the broken clock, my gaze lands on the hole cut into the bottom of the door.

Whoever’s out there obeyed. I told them to stop, and they stopped cutting. They didn’t come in.

Another spasm hits me in the guts, and I scream. Fresh tongues of heat lick up my chest, scorching me from the inside out. I arch my back off the floor, trying to escape it.

“Red?”

I know that voice. “Rickon?”

“I’m here, Biscuit. I’m right outside the door, for whatever you need.”

I need him, yes, but I can’t trust anyone when my body’s like this. Maybe I dreamed up my alphas as a way to cope with the pain. The betrayal as they take my haze over and over would kill me.

But if he’s real . . .

“Alpha?” I call softly.

“Right here, omega.”

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. I always wanted someone to call me their omega with such a loving tone. Not even in my dreams did it sound so sweet.

“Please drink more water.” He rolls a bottle through the notch in the door. I slide my body across the floor, panting softly with the effort. When I try to uncap the bottle, it slips in my limp grip.

“I can’t do it,” I whisper between the cramps. I despise this weakness. Vulnerability that anyone can use against me. Even now, the nearby alpha musk drives me to rut into my own hand. Whimpers spill from my throat.

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