Page 17 of One Flew Over the Omega's Nest: Part One
"What the fuck happened to you?" The orderly I hate the least, Sam, asks as he rounds the corner, his eyes immediately going to my side, where a red spot grows larger by the second.
"I tripped." Why even bother making it believable?
His lips tighten into a line. "Josephine Harding?"
My brows shoot up. Is that her name? I never pay attention when the dipshits steal the patient files and make copies for everyoneto look at. I didn't even realize we were getting a new inmate until I walked in and spotted her head of fiery red hair in my seat.
Could I have sat in a different seat? Of course, but then I wouldn't have had an excuse to talk to her. "The feisty redhead with the sweet way of talking?" Gods, I want to peel her out of that horrible jumpsuit and count every single freckle on her body.
With my tongue.
"That's her," he says, looking me over again.
"Then I have no idea what you're talking about. I tripped." He looks unconvinced. "Very hard."
"You can't protect her, Vasiliev—"
"Do not call me that name," I bite out, turning to walk away from him.
I've renounced that name. The last name my asshole father extended to me, his bastard son, when he shipped me to the States to be his lap dog for the Russian Mafia.
"Kole." His voice is more gentle, but I don't need his pity. We both know I don't belong here, that my father sold me to this facility to be experimented on like a lab rat when I made a decision that cost him millions of dollars.
A decision I would repeat over and over again.
"She doesn't need protecting," I grunt. "She can handle herself just fine."
"Okay, and what if she handles thewrongperson? She's a danger to everyone here. She's already broken Lawson's nose," good, she's a bitch, "and beat Lars to a pulp." That's more surprising, but considering her obvious resilience, it shouldn't be.
I don't mention that based on my earlier conversation with her, I'm pretty sure she put a knife through Carson's hand for groping her.
No, while I can do whatever the hell I want around here, the less questions I have to answer about going after Carson later, the better.
"Maybe if more omegas were like her, I wouldn't be in here."
It's not a fair assessment, but I stopped caring about fair a long time ago.
"Kole—"
"Fuck off, Wright." I wave him off, continuing down the hallway as he calls after me.
"Make sure you get that looked at!" I ignore him, blatantly aware that he's one of the few orderlies that will let me get away with talking to him like that. I mean, I still talk to everyone how I want, but assholes like Banesworth will try to get me in for extra lab time because of it.
People leap out of my way as I walk through the courtyard, my hand still held on my side to staunch the blood flow.
My littleLisichkareally is a feisty little thing.
On my way past Carson, who still holds his bandaged hand like it might fall off, I make a sudden turn. My hand grips his neck as I slam him against the wall, his dangling feet kicking in the air.
"Woah, man!" he chokes out, his good hand clawing at mine. "What did I do? What did I do?"
Whatever friends he had surrounding him quickly leave, as they should. Soon, there's no one within twenty feet—like an invisible barrier separating us from everyone.
"You tell me," I growl, anger rising in me at the thought of this little pest with his hands all over my omega.
Fuck.
Myomega?
