Page 3 of Pack Frenzy
“Jess,” I correct.
“Omega. Twenty-two.”
My laugh comes out hoarse. “You forgot charming as hell.”
His mouth twitches. “Don’t provoke them and you’ll be fine.”
“You mean the ones with tasers and fragile egos? Noted.”
His expression softens, then it’s gone. “Just… keep your head down.”
“Is this Nexus?”
He hesitates. “You know it is.”
“I want a lawyer. A phone call.”
He shakes his head, regret flickering behind the glasses. “That’s not how it works.”
“My friends…Casey, Danica, Kayla. Are they here? Are they okay?”
Silence. Then that same pitying look.
“You’re the only Omega who came in during the last twenty-four hours.”
Not here? So where the hell are my friends?
Mercado glances down the hall, lowers his voice. “The girl in cell nine, Lily. That was kind of you.”
I shrug, trying to play it off despite my heart hammering. “Yeah, well. She seemed lonely.”
“Most people here don’t take that risk.” He studies me. “The guards don’t like troublemakers.”
“Good thing I excel at being unlikeable.” My voice wavers, just slightly.
He leans in. “For what it’s worth, she hasn’t spoken in three days. You gave her something.”
“What, my sparkling personality?” I swallow against the knot in my throat. Maybe I can’t save anyone…just like I couldn’t save Sabrina. But I can at least let them know someone gives a damn.
“Your empathy,” he says quietly, like it’s dangerous. “It’s rare here.”
He starts to turn away.
“Mercado,” I call, and he pauses. “Why’d you stop him?”
He doesn’t look back, but his shoulders shift. “Because you’re right. The food’s shit, and you deserve better than that…All of you do.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left wondering if I imagined the slip in his professional mask.
I sink back onto the cot, staring at the ceiling with hairline cracks in the cement, but it looks solid.
Sabrina went through this and survived, at least long enough to vanish.
Dad spent months trying to pull strings, but every door slammed in his face. Eventually, he stopped asking and let his work consume him. Mom? She found her answers at the bottom of a bottle and never stopped.
My shoulder throbs again, deeper this time. Like my body belongs to everyone but me, and that pisses me off enough that I reach back, searching for the place they took me down. My fingers find the tender spot on my shoulder blade and the bruise sparks under my touch. I hiss, but I don’t pull away.
It’s a reminder of how fast everything went to hell. Just like back then, everything I thought was stable turned to shit in an instant.
