Page 23 of Pack Owned
“I know you have no reason to,” I reply gently. “But I promise, I’m not here to cause you more harm.”
Grabbing the gauze, I work with deliberate movements. Unshakable, dependable... that’s how they see me. But this Omega... she’s a storm brewing beneath the surface, messing with me in ways I can’t understand.
“Look,” I start, my tone unexpectedly softening, “I know you have no reason to trust me.” The bitter truth hangs heavy in the air. “But I’m not the one you should be afraid of, Kayla.”
For a long moment, silence stretches between us. Her lips part, as if she’s on the verge of arguing, but then they clamp shut, and she simply watches me with guarded eyes. Until finally, almost inaudibly, she says, “Okay.”
It’s a mere breath of sound, but that sliver of trust still manages to slice straight through me. As I rub the antibiotic ointment on the wound on her cheek, my fingertips brush her skin, sending tiny jolts racing up my arms. She jumps slightly, the reaction mirroring mine.
“Sorry,” I mutter, surprised by the apology. “The ointment can sting a little.”
“Doesn’t hurt,” she replies, but her voice trembles. She’s got fire and fight, but right now, all I see is a scared animal, caught and vulnerable.
“Good.” It takes everything in me to focus on the task at hand. “I’ll just wrap this up, keep it clean.” My fingers work deftly, securing the bandage with the practiced ease of years spent patching up wounds, but tending to a wounded Omega in my bedroom is a far cry from the battlefield.
She flinches again as I secure the bandage, and the frustration boils within me. I hate that she fears me, despise that I’m lumped in with the ones who’ve hurt her before.
“Kayla,” I say, my voice low and rough, the frustration bleeding through. “You need to understand… I’m trying to help you.”
“Help?” Her laugh is a hollow, bitter sound. “Is that what you call it? You’re going to sell me off.”
As bounty hunters, we take all kinds of jobs—finding Omegas who fled corporate reassignments, Alphas who disobeyed mating contracts, you name it. This isn’t our first rodeo locating missing Omegas.
“No. There’s a bounty out for you and the other Omegas who were on the bus to Nexus. We were hired to locate you and any other missing Omegas and bring you in.”
She snorts.
I don’t push the issue. Let her think what she wants. Liam has asked Ryker for a week and so far, I think he’s going to honor it. This little Omega is already getting under my skin, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Ryker is just as smitten as Liam.
“Can we talk about something else?” She picks at the empty package of the gauze. “Like where you learned how to do this?”
“I was in the army. A medic.”
Her eyes widen. “That must have been scary. What was it like?”
“Back in Kandahar, there was this kid, barely older than you are now. He got hit with shrapnel during a firefight. We thought we’d lose him.”
Kayla’s posture shifts, her wounded body leaning toward me.
“Did he make it?”
A ghost of a smile plays on my lips. “Yeah. Tough kid. Made a full recovery.”
The memory slams into me, a heat wave rolling off the desert floor. Air thick with the metallic tang of gunpowder, a sickly-sweet undercurrent of sweat and fear clinging to my nostrils. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, every movement a frantic blur as I fight to save the kid. It’s a brutal reminder—life hangs by a thread. A single wrong move means the difference between holding on and the chilling emptiness of letting go.
Kayla’s eyes lock onto mine, and there’s a raw awe I can’t quite decipher. Then, just as quickly, her gaze darts away, seeking solace in the sliver of blue sky visible through the window.
“Guess some people are just lucky,” she mutters, the words dripping with a bitterness that twists my gut.
Silence stretches, heavy and thick. I can’t let that stand.
“Not everyone gets a medic around,” I say, my voice softer than I’m used to. “We all fight our own battles, but sometimes, a sliver of hope, a helping hand... that can make all the difference.”
Her voice, barely a whisper, breaks the quiet. “Must’ve been hard.”
There’s a shift in her, a vulnerability peeking through the cracks in her carefully constructed facade. It tugs at something deep within me, a protectiveness I can’t explain.
“War is hell,” I reply, the words heavy with unspoken experiences. “But seeing him pull through... it gave me hope. Maybe there’s hope for you too, Kayla.”
