Page 92 of One Flew Over the Omega's Nest: Part One
With the way Jo is looking at me, I’m half expecting her to pull out a t-shirt that says “Alpha’s First Murder”.
I’ve never seen myself as a guy who needs to be here. Sure, the noise in my head only stops when I lay eyes on the chaotically mesmerizing dance of flames, and I’ve accidentally burned down a building or two, but that doesn’t mean I’m certifiable, right?
Jo makes me question all that.
Because the way she just destroyed the piece of shit that tried to rape her? The way she was a complete badass theentire time, never once losing control of the situation? How she looked as she sliced the fucker’s neck open?
Thathas me hard as a rock. So maybe I really do belong here.
Because on top of that? The murder I just witnessed? Not bothered. Not even a little bit. It’s almost like fate knew what it was doing when it put Jo with all of us.
Speaking of fate, getting out of the abandoned wing undetected was suspiciously easy. Sam had taken us to a door that led out behind one of the buildings, then to a hole in the electric fence. It was tricky getting through it while carrying a dead body between us, but we managed it.
“Focus, Hayden,” Sam barks at me, and I jolt out of my thoughts. West, Kole, and Jo have gone ahead to wait at the edge of the forest for a flashlight, and Sam and I are rifling through a secret compartment in the trunk of his car, which has tanks of gasoline, matches, knives, a few shovels, and too many guns to count.
The parking lot is illuminated by a few streetlights, and when I had pointed out the cameras on every corner, Sam waved me off and told me, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Who do you work for again?” I ask, my throat going dry when I spot a grenade launcher.
“I used to be special ops. Now I work for myself,” he grunts, grabbing a canister of gasoline and a shovel. “Grab some of those matches.”
“Isn’t it…” I swallow nervously, “dangerous? Having all this stuff in your car?”
He shrugs, smirking at me. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little friendly fire?”
I scoff. “Nothing about this seems very friendly.”
“Relax.” He rolls his eyes. “The compartment is made with reinforced steel that would contain any kind of explosion. Well…mostly contain.” He lowers the false bottom of the trunk back in place, and then covers it with the floor mat so it’s undistinguishable to someone who isn’t looking for it. Hell, Iamlooking for it, and I can hardly make anything out.
When West mentioned that he and Sam were working to take down Thornfield, I didn’t imagine anything of this magnitude.
I had thought like…feeding information to the FBI. Not an ex-special ops mercenary with a shit-ton of cool toys.
“Carry this.” He pushes the shovels in my hands and plucks the flashlight out of his back pocket.
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, rolling my eyes at him as we continue through the parking lot. I scan the other cars in the lot, looking for Banesworth’s. It’s not helpful, considering I have no idea what car he drives, but maybe one will jump out and scream, “Hey, I belong to a fuckwit!”
I frown when no such thing happens. “We need to move his car if we’re going to convince them that he tucked tail and ran.” When we get back, West is going to use the asswipe’s phone to email his resignation, and hopefully they won’t ask too many questions.
Sam only nods. “I’m already on it. I got a guy who runs a chop shop ten miles away. He’ll come collect the car while we’re taking care of the body.”
The spot we’re heading to is at the very back of the asylum property, and it's a bit of a trek from the parking lot, so I take the opportunity to have a heart-to-heart with the guy.
“So…you guys are in?” I ask, rolling my neck.
“In…what?” Sam sounds a bit disgruntled, but he may just be tired. I mean, itistwo in the morning.
“Jo’s pack.” I try really hard to not look at the guy like he’s stupid, butcome on.
“Part of me…wants to say this is all a delusion. But…if her brother really is the head of the Irish Mafia, he’ll have the connections needed to get you guys set up with new identities after this shit goes down. We might have a shot at an honest-to-gods pack life.”
“I think West is in,” I say with a grin, remembering the way he kissed her back when we were torturing Fuckwit. Packing up is weird. If anyone else besides the three men in this situation with me were to put their hands on her like that, heads would have rolled. But seeing my Fireball with our good Doctor?
It felt…right.
“We both are.” Sam’s voice is decisive. “There’s no going back. I want her, he wants her…if she’ll have us, we’re in. I don’t know if the drugs they’ve been giving her will affect her ability to bond at all…but I want in, regardless.”
Oh, shit. We never told them that Jo and I are bonded. Or that we’re true scent matches.
