Page 27 of Your Wild Omega

But the real story cements in my mind as I run my fingers over the leather belts, finding one wrist restraint roughly sawed through—the picture of Red’s past, when she was trapped in a dark room, praying for her alphas to come.

I lean on the bed, winded. Overlaying this room comes the image of the nest in my apartment, trashed beyond recognition with the string lights cut and pillows snowing across the floor. A small dark room the same as this one. No wonder she can’t even walk past it without twitching.

And the way she screamed and cried through her heat like she was being murdered. Because she nearly was, so many times.

My omega spent months in this dark room before rescue, trapped by these restraints as that devil alpha fucked and edged her while others stuck needles into her.

And I asked her to relive the ordeal, saying it was just words.

Suddenly I can’t breathe. I rest my hand on my chest, gasping as my entire body tightens so hard my bones might break. I drop to one knee, hunching down to get smaller, balancing against the edge of the bed. Tears rush down my cheeks to catch in my beard.

The fact Red’s walking around smiling and talking is a miracle. No, it’s the result of her sheer determination to move forward, and her impeccable acting skills. I can’t blame her for clinging to Zack and refusing to put him back in a cage for any reason. And I thought she was nuts.

I’m the insane, misguided one.

A warm hand rests on my back. “Hey. You all right, Callisto? Is it chest pain?”

Fuck, yes, my heart hurts, but not for the reason he’s thinking. “Just . . . give me . . . a minute,” I wheeze. What did Ricky tell me to do? Breathe. Look at my fingers. Count.

I roll my fingertips together, examining the knuckles as I count to three over and over, gasping in snatches of air. I glance under my arm at the open doorway. Ricky promised there’s enough air in the room for me to breathe, but this space is smaller.

Gradually I lengthen the counts to four. For a long time, I fear I’ll be stuck this way for eternity, quivering on my knees and clinging to Red’s captivity bed like it owns me. But I promise myself over and over it will pass, and then it does, fading so slowly I don’t notice the loosening at first.

My hands ache from clenching and my ribs feel bruised, but finally I can draw a deep breath. I fall onto my ass and stretch out my numb legs.

“Sorry, man,” Brett says, passing me a water bottle he got from who knows where.

I eye the seal, but it snaps cleanly as I twist the lid. “Thanks,” I mutter. My hand quivers and the liquid spills over my lips to run down my neck and chest.

The agent sighs. “Damn. I should have warned you more.” He swivels on his heel and clicks his tongue as he looks around. “They’re some twisted shits all right.”

I nod, leaning back against the wall near the door. Red would have sat here too, braced against this very surface, waiting for rescue. “My hat’s off to you for doing this on the daily,” I tell Brett.

His mouth wrinkles. “Thanks. We get some dark days for sure, but no matter what the omegas have been through, my takeaway is that we got them out.” He eyes me up and down, and squats to take the bottle from me when my hand quivers. “It really affected you, huh?”

“She’s my scent match,” I admit softly, pointing the water bottle toward the bed before passing it to him.

“Oh, fuck.” His eyes widen and the color drains from his face. “I thought you were just her lawyer.”

I laugh bitterly and rest my head on my arms, braced over my knees. “Yeah, that’s all I am, because I was too busy with my work to—” Fuck, it hurts.

He drops his hand on my shoulder momentarily, keeping silent. I bet he of all people would understand that we humans are complicated beasts. After a few minutes, I pull myself together and get to my feet. I snap more photos around the room, locking my exhausted emotions down behind a wall of numbness. If I chose my work over her, then I at least need to make sure I deliver on these cases.

Once I’ve finished taking pictures, Brett gathers some samples from the room, gouging out chips of paint and cutting a sectionof the padded bed as well as the one dangling strap. “I’ll send you my detailed notes from the day, with everything the omega said,” he mutters as he drops them in an evidence bag. “Hope you can lock the fuckers away forever.”

“Me too,” I say darkly. “Let me get another picture of that strap before you bag it.” The opposing counsel will want any evidence not collected on the day thrown out, but this case will go down to a jury, so let them see the straps that held my omega in place.

As we leave the compound, breaking out into daylight once more, Brett clears his throat. He tosses his keys from one hand to the other as he catches my gaze over the car roof. “It’s not my place to comment, but that omega struck me as a real survivor who knows her own mind, the kind who won’t let any shit stand in her way. I suggest you don’t give up either.”

I nod, acknowledging his comment, before folding myself into the passenger seat.

He’s right. Red won’t give up on anything.

I tell Brett I plan to catch some sleep on the way home, and he passes me a cushion from the back seat. I nest it against the seat belt and headrest and close my eyes.

If Red’s willing to commit a crime to rescue one of her alphas from prison, isn’t there a possibility she’ll give me another chance? She let me help her through her heat, after all. She wants me—I just need to step up my game.

Instead of criticizing her choices, I’ll become her biggest supporter. I’ll court her with the same level of determination she’s had to survive.

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