Page 17 of Omega Untamed
“I can’t,” I whispered.
“You can. You will.”
Following his lead, I made a few more steps before he cursed under his breath and picked me up like a child, one arm under my knees, one under my shoulders.
I leaned into his chest even further and clutched my good hand at his satiny shirt, not caring if I wrinkled or tore it. My other hand with the broken finger I pressed hard to my own chest, trying not to jar it.
We exited the suite and entered a hall. I could see the high ceiling and the inlaid, golden lights and the edges of the narrowed walls.
I heard someone speak but could not make out the words. Then an elevator dinged.
It was ridiculous. I clung to the guy who was carrying me off to kill me. I knew it in my gut. My brain was freaking out. But I couldn’t move, and with every step he took, I pressed myself tighter against him, clinging literally for my life.
What kind of person clung to their murderer? But he was all I had. I was losing, loser, lost. Drifting already toward the unknown.
The elevator went a long way down. From my vantage, I could see the numbers up high, going from twelve to negative two. Down below. Maybe to some parking garage? I didn’t know. I’d been unconscious when I was brought here.
When the elevator arrived, we exited, and the footfalls of the Alphas echoed eerily through the shadows of—yes, I’d guessed correctly—the parking garage.
“He’s really out of it. Did you give him something?” Bast’s voice rumbled from his chest and straight into my ear.
“Nothing,” came the response.
I heard an engine running, smelled gas fumes and the oily scent of many cars. A car door opened. I turned my head and saw a black sedan and an Alpha who looked like a chauffeur standing by the backseat entrance.
The car looked new, sleek and long. Okay, so we had a driver. For some reason that gave me heart. If there was a third party involved, wouldn’t that be too many witnesses? Maybe they weren’t going to kill me after all. Maybe they were taking me to a doctor.
Yeah. I was so deluded I’d grasp a belief in any fantasy at this point.
Bast bent down and put me on my bare feet. “In,” he ordered.
I practically fell back onto the seat, managing to lift my legs and swing them inside. My hair slapped me in the eyes, stinging, and I reached up to wipe it away. My hand came away wet with tears.
I started to open my mouth, to beg, and shut it. What good would it do? I’d given up. I had no more choices left anyway, no more branches on my path.
The driver got in and revved the engine. We took off. The tires gave soft little screams on the concrete.
I started to shake harder. “One way trip,” I said in a shaky voice.
The Alpha named Stone was on my other side. “Shut up,” he snapped.
Bast took a breath and let it out hard.
Myre did not come with us. I supposed he gave orders to kill but left the dirty work to his underlings. It made sense.
I wanted to say so many things. I wanted to plead, to convince, to make them feel sorry for me. But my voice stopped every time I opened my mouth. My body felt cold already, my own will too distant to reach. All parts of me ached. It would be a relief, I told myself, to sleep forever.
No orders were given to the driver as to our destination. It had all been planned ahead.
Beside me, Bast sat ramrod straight, facing directly ahead. I turned to watch him—he was so controlled, so still—and he did not seem to notice I was there at all. He behaved as if in a trance. His eyes did not blink. The lights from outside on the streets flashing in his hair were the only movements about him. In the window’s reflection, he could have been a life-sized doll.
I wanted him to touch me. Hold me when I died. Would he if I asked? No. I thought not. It would be too much to expect. Especially from a stranger of his lot, mixed up with organized crime, the worst of the lot of criminals I’d encountered.
After driving for about fifteen minutes on the highway, the car went up some side streets and into the hills where there was little light and only an occasional signpost naming yet more side roads. Quail Avenue. Rose Lane. Star Court.
The trees grew taller, the underbrush thicker.
We turned off onto a dirt road, drove another mile over hard packed, ridged dirt. Stone shifted and cursed beside me. Bast remained unaffected.
