Page 19

EIGHT

WHAT THE THEY DON’T KNOW WON’T HURT THEM

CALIX

“ I know where she lives.”

I turn away from watching Dr. Reynolds walk toward the office and face Calix with an arched brow as he leans against the doorframe. I don’t say anything, not yet, but only because I’m not sure where he’s going with this and I’m not looking to get myself in any more shit today.

The beta nods. “Yeah, I know where she lives. Know how to get there.”

“ Okay .”

“Might even know a way out of here.”

My eyes widen in surprise as he tugs me into the closet and makes like we’re moving furniture around. “There isn’t a way out of here.”

Not one we could use.

It’s unlikely, anyway.

But Calix nods. “Part of why I’m up here with you. I kept getting out when I was on Ward B. Lit the Dean’s car on fire, burned down the Administrator’s personal cottage on campus. Even snuck into Hubbard’s old apartment and tried to get rid of the crotchety old bitch.”

“Is that so?” I grin as I pause to look at him.

“Yeah. They didn’t have enough… Enough…” He makes eye contact with me briefly before looking away, gnawing on his lower lip nervously.

“Enough what, St. James?”

He inhales sharply, his gaze lowered to his hands as they twist the sheet he’s holding but he doesn’t finish.

I don’t think anyone has talked to him since they’ve been letting us out.

Group isn’t really a social setting.

We share if the docs can get us to, Hawthorne is usually the one most willing to run his mouth, but it’s not like we sit around getting to know each other and shit.

They just started letting us out for short periods of time over the last week or two, and I’m pretty positive Calix hasn’t had any interaction with any of us.

I get it.

He’s a lone fish in a shallow pool full of sharks.

Granted, St. James isn’t a guppie or some shit. He earned his spot on Ward C. Hell, he just admitted to me he tried killing the head nurse. Yeah, he’s not to be overlooked just because he’s smaller than the rest of us.

Calix is like a… Piranha, or electric eel. A barracuda, maybe.

He’s his own brand of dangerous but any one of us could eat him alive with one bite if we were so inclined.

So, yeah. I doubt anyone has talked to him since we’ve been allowed to mingle. His reaction to me using his name while engaging has me wondering when the last time anyone bothered doing more with the beta than what a doctor ordered.

I don’t like that.

“Calix,” I say a little softer, and his eyes snap to mine.

It’s also probably weird for him to hear me talking this much. Like Reynolds. She was surprised, too, but just because I don’t waste my words, doesn’t mean I don’t have any.

“They didn’t have enough, what?”

He swallows hard, his dark brown eyes fixed on my face. ”Guards. Staff in general.”

”On Ward B?”

”Yeah.” Calix nods and starts wringing the sheet in his hands.

“I’m underestimated. Everyone underestimates me.

Didn’t think they needed to watch the beta.

Figured an alpha would get me, on the inside or out there.

” He motions to the window behind him. “Makes some shit easy, letting people think I’m weak or incapable.

Harmless. Makes some shit hard, though.”

”I can imagine.”

”But that’s why they kept moving me around. Figured it didn’t matter and I’d get mine in the end.”

I nod because I’m listening to every word he’s saying but I’m not looking at him anymore.

No, I’m watching Calix’s hands and how the skin has started to split at the knuckles, how his cuticles are ripped and torn.

His nails are short, too short as if he bites them and I have a feeling he probably picks at every little thing he sees based on the little scab by his wrist. Which would also account for the burn scars that look far worse than they should considering most of them seem to be made from small flames and hot metal.

I don’t like any of that, either.

For a beta, Calix St. James is big.

Probably about six-foot-one or two, but he’s wider and thicker than any I’ve seen, and I can tell he’s got a fuckton of muscle under his jumpsuit.

Throw in the dark eyes and even darker hair that stops at his shoulders and hangs in his face, I can see where he could pass for menacing.

Right now, though, he looks like a little boy who’s waiting to get hit with a belt because he did something wrong.

I fucking hate that.

”How long have you been here?” I ask, interrupting the nervous stream of consciousness that hasn’t stopped for the last few minutes.

Calix blinks a few times, looks down at the floor then back up over his shoulder. “Since I was nine.”

”And how old are you now?”

“I’ll be thirty next month.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How the hell has he been here over twenty years? And survived ? Especially since it doesn’t seem like he’s made any friends let alone become part of a pack. Where is his family? How did he get here?

Why the good goddamn do I care?

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t give a shit about him.

Like I shouldn’t feel some kind of way whenever Hawthorne isn’t up to snuff, or when I haven’t seen him in more than a day or two.

The omegas? Our fucking doctors ?

Definitely shouldn’t want them the way I do.

I figured that was because I haven’t been around an omega on a regular basis since I lived with my sister, but after the way I was ready to fuck Magnolia Reynolds in this very closet no more than a half hour ago, that’s not it.

Now I’ve got a beta tugging at my nonexistent heartstrings, making me want to protect him from whatever demons he’s been facing all alone for twenty fucking years.

I don’t think any of that was supposed to be part of my transfer to Blackhurst Ridge, or the treatment plan they’ve got running here.

”Everyone calls you Severe.”

I nod as I take a few steps toward Calix. “It’s my name.”

”Not your first name.”

”True.”

”What…” He swallows hard again, his eyes widening as he watches me reach for his hands that are now bleeding. “What’s, I mean, should I just call you, or I mean, I don’t have to call you anything or… Or I can just call you alpha, that is if you want me to talk to you or whatever, but?—”

”Korvin,” I grunt as I hold them palm up, inspecting every exposed surface to make sure it’s not more intense than a few thin lines of red. “And it’s fine if you call me that.”

”Korvin.” Calix says my name slowly, enunciating each syllable as if he’s counting them.

”Mhm.”

He sucks in a sharp breath as I find his pulse points, my thumbs smoothing back and forth over the absolutely erratic beating under his skin.

Yeah, I’ve officially fucking cracked.

Might as well embrace it.

I want to fuck my doctors, I want to protect my beta. I don’t know what the fuck I want to do with Hawthorne but I know he’s mine to do whatever that is.

This is so fucked up.

”Why did you tell me you know where Reynolds lives?”

Calix’s pulse slows, becoming more steady and rhythmic while his eyes stay glued to what I’m doing with my hands. “You want her.”

”So?” Perceptive little shit . I was hoping he didn’t hear my exchange with Reynolds. Then again, he was right outside the fucking door when I opened it. “I want other shit, too, why is she different?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, the beta blurts, “You want her, so I’m going to get her for you.”

I think this very broken, most likely ballistic beta just imprinted on me.

What’s weird is, I’m not the least bit mad about it.