Page 161 of Daisy

And that's where the scent's strongest.

The lock on this door's old school—heavy iron, built to keep someone trapped. Takes me maybe thirty seconds to crack it.

"Son of a bitch," I mutter as the door swings open.

It's a fucking cell. Stone walls, a cot that's seen better decades, a bucket in the corner that I don't want to think about. No windows. No escape route except the door I just opened.

And huddled in the corner like a broken bird is a male omega.

Guy looks like a kid when I walk in, and the terror in his dark eyes makes me want to burn this whole place down. Years of being locked away have left him looking younger than his thirty-something years—messy brown hair and skin that's never seen sunlight. Too thin, like they've been starving him. When he catches my scent, he tries to disappear into the stone wall.

"Hey," I say, stopping just inside the doorway and crouching down. "Easy there. I'm not here to hurt you."

He doesn't say anything, just stares at me like I'm about to eat him alive. His scent spikes with panic, and I can see him starting to shake.

"Name's Hawk," I continue, keeping my voice as gentle as I can manage. Which, let's be honest, isn't exactly my specialty. "I'm here to get you the hell out of this shithole."

Still nothing, but he's not trying to phase through solid rock anymore.

"What's your name?"

"T-Tyler," he whispers, and fuck me, the sound breaks something in my chest.

"Alright, Tyler. How long has that piece of shit been keeping you down here?"

He shakes his head like he's lost count. Probably has. No windows, no way to tell time. Just endless darkness and whatever sick games Crane's been playing.

"Doesn't matter," I say. "We're leaving. Right fucking now."

I start to move closer, and he flinches so hard he smacks his head on the wall.

"Whoa, okay. I won't touch you unless you say so." I back off, hands visible. "But Ty—can I call you Ty?—we need to move. There's some seriously bad shit happening upstairs, and we don't want to be here when it all goes sideways."

"He'll find me," Tyler whispers, tears starting to fall. "He always finds me. Says I can't leave. Says he needs me to stay."

And there it is. The full horror of what this sick fuck's been doing. Using this guy as his personal omega, keeping him locked up like a pet to prevent himself going feral.

"Listen to me, Ty." I make my voice as firm as I can without being threatening. "That asshole can't hurt you anymore. My friends are upstairs right now making sure he never hurts anyone again."

Something that might be hope flickers in his eyes. "Really?"

"Really. But we need to haul ass. Can you walk?"

He nods, struggling to his feet. Weak as hell, but mobile.

"Good man. Here's what we're gonna do—we go up those stairs, through the house, and out to where my partner's waiting with a van. But I need you to stick close, okay?"

I hold out my hand, palm up. His choice.

After what feels like forever, he reaches out and takes it. His fingers are freezing and shaking, but he holds on tight.

"There we go. You're tougher than you look, Ty."

We make our way upstairs slow and easy, Tyler gripping my hand like it's the only thing keeping him sane. I can hear chaos from the front of the house, perfect cover for our little escape party.

"Hawk to base," I murmur into my comm. "Got Package Two. Moving to pickup."

"Copy," August's voice comes back. "Gunner's ready."