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Chapter Two

Leo

Five Minutes Earlier

T here’s a haze that comes when waking up after going too long without solid sleep. I’m so out of it that I roll over and only realize I’m falling from one of the loft beds when I’m midair.

I land on my shins, which doesn’t feel great, but I’m able to catch my top half with my palms before I face-plant into the floor.

“Where the fuck is Saylor?” Shaw growls.

“Don’t do it! Do you hear me, woman? I don’t know what that fucker is up to, but he’s not your bloody friend!” The Irish accent belongs to Omen—the white-haired beta who Saylor spent several days locked in with. “Just fucking wait, I’m tossing your arse over my knee when I get my hands on you again.”

I shove myself up and grimace as Shaw does the same from the pull-out couch. He’s nude, but that doesn’t stop him from throwing himself at the beta.

Omen’s head slams to the side with a vicious crunch as Shaw sucker punches him from behind. The beta doesn’t hesitate to throw an elbow back into Shaw’s solar plexus.

Shaw grunts and staggers.

Omen rotates, throwing a punch at Shaw, who successfully ducks the hit, but it’s a small space. He stumbles into the table and uses the opportunity of being bent over to grab the chair closest to the door.

“Relax, mate!” Omen lands two hands to Shaw’s shoulder and back, shoving him away.

Shaw stumbles. He doesn’t have much space to swing, and he still slams the chair into Omen’s leg.

“Oh, you twat! You’ve banged my Achilles tendon.” The Irishman bends, rubbing the back of his ankle. “What the hell is with the cheap shots?”

Shaw growls, tackling Omen into the glass pane next to the door, and I finally get my shit together.

Saylor is missing.

Those two need to find some common ground and work together.

Omen seems to know what’s happening, which is a good thing, since I don’t have the first clue. She was in bed with Shaw the last time I hazily woke up.

Skirting around the end of the sofa, I make it to Shaw as he slams his fist into Omen’s kidney. Wrapping my forearm around my partner’s throat from behind, I drag his snarling form back until I trip over the end of the couch mattress.

“Just stop being a feral dickhead for three seconds. We need to figure out what’s happening,” I growl, rolling him under me and pinning him in place.

“Well, now, that makes for an intriguing image,” Omen says with an obnoxious lilt to his voice. “Go on, don’t stop on my account.”

“Why are you fucking with me?” Shaw snaps back, struggling against my hold. “We should be teaming up to get information out of that asshole.”

“I’m starting to think this place really does encourage the rot,” I grumble. “If you hurt him, Saylor won’t forgive you. It’s that simple.”

“I know she was coerced out by that fucker, but I’m not sure I’ll forgive her for following him so easily,” Omen says, swiping at his lower lip.

Shaw goes stiff. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Put on some pants,” I growl, shoving Shaw against the mattress once more. “We all need to talk.”

“And I was just daydreaming of all the ways your little tryst could end.” Omen sighs. “Forgive me. My sense of humor grows darker when I’m anxious. I agree. The three of us need to get on the same page.”

* * *

Shaw finds his pants while I put away the pull-out bed and throw the blankets and pillows into the loft I slept in. It’s technically Omen’s bed, based on the smell, but he doesn’t say a word as I place myself down on one end of the couch and nod for him to take the other.

Shaw grabs the chair he smacked Omen with and sets it a few feet away. Instead of sitting as I would, he spins it and sits with the back of the chair to his chest. It gives him somewhere to rest his crossed arms. His body language, along with the glare on his face, ensures he’s not pleased with me.

“Leo.” I point at my chest, twisting to sit at an angle to make it easier to see both men. I throw a thumb toward Shaw. “That’s my partner, Shaw.”

“What the hell is going on?” Shaw growls. His foot bounces against the floor, betraying his anxiety and possibly his fury.

“You saw more than I did about what went down when Valor lost it. You were already on the court when Saylor and I made it out.” Omen sighs heavily, swiping a hand over his face. “I heard about it while we were in the hole—not from him. They sedated V on the court, but he didn’t snap out of the rage like usual.” His shoulders bounce with how forcefully he shrugs. “They didn’t place us together. I was with Conrad.” He glances between us, like the name might be cause for recognition. When he finds none, he goes on. “I believe they were purposely goading him by putting him with several of the men he was fighting before they tranqed us. Again, I couldn’t see it since the cell walls are cinder block, but he?—”

“He what?” Shaw snaps.

“Beat them to death upon waking up,” Omen says with an eerily calm delivery. “Based on the sounds alone, I believe he broke at least one of their necks. That was maybe six hours ago. It’s hard to tell time in a room with no windows. They eventually tranqed him again with double the dose and dragged him to another cell, but even with the additional medication, it never put him out completely.” He lifts his wrist, showing us the white canine marks that signal a claiming bite. “I attempted to reach him by yelling across the room and through the bond.” His white-blond hair falls into his eyes as his head shakes. “It’s like nothing I’ve felt in the time we’ve been bonded. All that comes through the connection is a simmering rage. No stream of consciousness. No lucidity. No rational thoughts. Just…nothing. It’s as if he’s not there at all.” His tone is hollow and defeated in a way that makes my stomach ache. I can’t imagine being in a similar situation with Shaw.

I catch Omen’s gaze and try to give him an apologetic look, but I don’t even know what that would look like, so there’s no way to be sure if I accomplish it. “I’m sorry to hear about your partner. Can you tell us how you made it back here, and what happened to Saylor?”

Omen’s jaw clenches as he gives a clipped nod. “Several of the guards came in. The British one who’s fond of Saylor?—”

“McCabe,” Shaw growls.

“Possibly,” Omen agrees. “He pulled me from the cell while two others grabbed their own prisoners. We didn’t follow them up, so maybe they took them to a new block? Honestly, I’ve no idea.”

“Get to the point,” Shaw hisses.

“He’s trying!” I bark, jabbing a finger in his direction. Jesus Christ, he’s on my last nerve. “Quit being a dick and let him speak!”

Shaw growls, baring his teeth.

Omen ignores us and goes on. “McCabe pulled me aside on the way up to tell me they called Amato. Apparently, he agreed to cut his losses. I don’t fucking know. That’s very hard for me to believe, but the British asshole told me they’re going to euthanize Valor this morning unless he can be brought back before that.”

The chair Shaw has been sitting in goes flying as he pushes himself to his feet.

My jaw falls, but my mind races. “He’s going to put Saylor in a cell with a fully rabid alpha and see what happens?”

“I told her not to do it.” Omen’s already pale face loses even more color. “The bond is enough for me to know he’s not safe to be around. I don’t know what that guard is up to, but I don’t trust him.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Shaw paces back and forth, but my eyes don’t leave the beta.

“You know the consequences of losing a bond,” I say, and it’s not a question.

He has to.

Everyone does.

If Valor dies, Omen will be in agony. The fresher the bond, the more violent it is to a person’s system. That’s why it’s easier for those who have a partner that dies of natural causes after a long life. The connection weakens over time, but even then, packs in their seventies, eighties, or nineties often die out within weeks or months of each other. It’s one kindness nature bestows on alphas and omegas…and I guess betas too, if they have a bond like Omen does.

“I know what I’ll be in for if they put Valor down.” Omen crosses one leg over the other and his foot bounces. “I’d rather experience that agony than allow my best mate to murder someone he genuinely cares about in cold blood. If he had a say, he would tell me to protect Saylor. Only, I was cuffed. I physically couldn’t stop her. McCabe shoved me inside the cell and that was that.”

“And now he’s about to stick her in with your rabid alpha,” Shaw says. “Why reach out to her family at all if he was just going to pull this bullshit?”

“It doesn’t make much sense to me either,” Omen says, sighing heavily. “I’ve seen Valor pretty bad off, and he’s never mistaken someone innocent for an adversary. I’d just feel a fuck of a lot more confident if any piece of him remained in the bond.”

Jesus Christ.