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Chapter Three

Saylor

M y eyes widen as Valor bends close to the bars, tugging my shirt so hard that a ripping sound fills the air. He snarls, and his warm breath fans over my face. His hazy eyes seem focused on McCabe and not me.

Or that’s what I tell myself.

It’s intimidating to have his sharp canines right there as he roars.

There’s no doubt in my mind…

Valor has left the building .

The only part of him that’s here with me is the animalistic side of an alpha’s personality that remains once they go rabid.

“Back the fuck up, or I’ll put a bullet in her brain,” McCabe says coolly. “This isn’t a tranquilizer gun, and I’m not fucking about. Take a step back and release the omega.”

Spit flies from Valor’s mouth as he bares his teeth at the guard. McCabe, in turn, shoves the barrel of the gun deeper into my temple, causing me to whimper.

I haven’t even had the chance to freak out about that, but I always go numb in a crisis. The same thing happens when I have too many decisions to make. Rather than making any choices, my system just shuts down, fully highlighting the decision paralysis. Normally it’s a nuisance, but right now, it seems like a perk of having a neurodivergent brain.

McCabe points toward the back of the cell. “Back up, Valor, or you’ll find yourself picking chunks of her brain out of your hair.” He bumps my shoulder and says, “You try.”

My heart pounds so violently, I think I’m on the verge of having a heart attack.

This many beats per minute cannot be healthy .

“Back up, please. He’s going to let me in there with you,” I say, trying to keep the fear out of my tone.

Isn’t that what they tell you to do?

Don’t show fear to a predator?

“No.” Valor’s head tilts, and the full weight of his emotionless gaze settles on me.

“You’re scaring me.” I stare straight into his eyes, even though there’s not a hint of recognition. “That bothered you the first time we met, and I know you would hate to know you’re making me nervous now.”

Valor’s hand releases my T-shirt, and I exhale in pure relief until he growls, “Leave!”

“It’s your death warrant,” McCabe says coolly.

That is still not fucking happening, and I wish everyone would stop talking about it so casually.

Killing someone is a big deal.

I grimace as my mind helpfully replays a flash of the corpses in the next cell. Okay, so Valor may be a murderer, but he’s my killer.

They’re not going to put him down if I have anything to say about it. And once he regains mental clarity, I’m sure he’ll be much less murdery and way more rational.

I don’t think it was really even him who killed those guys. Fine, it was probably his body, but I don’t think his mind is intact enough to understand what he’s done.

The rabid alpha’s head tilts. It’s creepy and animalistic, and it gets hard to breathe with his heavy stare focused on me, but I know I have to get myself into that cell somehow.

“Just take a few steps back.” I raise my hands, giving a shooing motion.

“Now! We don’t have time for this shit,” McCabe growls.

I can’t be sure what he’s doing, since he’s behind me, but it sounds like he digs in his pocket, possibly looking for the key to Valor’s cell.

“Please?” I whisper, gesturing again for him to move back. I want to tell him I’m trying to save his damn life, but he wouldn’t understand.

I try again, this time ensuring the word comes out as a whine.

It doesn’t work.

Why isn’t it working?

Alphas bark, and it forces betas and omegas into motion, but an omega’s whine is supposed to have the same effect on an alpha.

“ Please, Valor. Back up .”

He snarls, bringing both hands up and rubbing his temples.

My eyes ache like I’m about to burst into tears, but I try one more time. “You have to back up! ”

Several eternities seem to pass, but he finally steps back. His head shakes violently, and he spins around, stomping to the back of the cell.

Once he reaches the back wall, he sits on the floor in the same position he was in when we found him.

The blood on the backs of his hands and down his arms makes me shiver. There’s no way all of that belongs to him, and my brain thinks it would be a lovely time to replay the flashes of those dead bodies all over again.

McCabe moves around me, pushing a key card into the front of the cell. The clicking sound makes me jolt, and he doesn’t waste any time, tugging the door open forcefully. It slides to the side, and the next thing I know, he’s shoving me into the cell.

I stumble, tossing my arms out to catch myself if I fall, but it’s unnecessary. I’m able to right myself as the door rolls closed.

The clicking sound feels especially ominous.

My head swivels, taking in the beds on the right wall.

Calling them beds might be a stretch .

It looks like a piece of concrete with two thick metal bars at an angle connecting the wall to the end of the ledge that I think makes up the sleeping space. There are two of them, one on top of the other, and they both have what looks like a one-inch-thick piece of foam that must count as the mattress.

“Here, this probably won’t help, but at least you’ll have it,” McCabe says.

I spin even farther to find him shoving something through the bars. It looks like a blanket, some towels, and his other hand moves through, dropping a bottle of water.

Well, that’s generous.

I have no desire to ever use a water fountain on the back of a toilet, which is how the one in here is set up.

A scratching sound comes from behind me, and I turn just in time to see Valor barreling toward me.

He doesn’t aim for me, though.

Instead, he stomps to the bars, lands against them with a thump , and makes a mad grab for McCabe.

The guard staggers back, cursing as he avoids Valor’s hands stretched through the bars.

“Come on now, mate,” Conrad calls out from his cell. “Don’t get yourself into an even worse bind. And don’t hurt the pretty lass that fucker just locked you in with. That’s the last thing you’d want if you were yourself.”

Valor growls.

“Fucking lunatic.” McCabe raises a hand, flipping him off.

“He’s sick!” I snap, jabbing a finger at the bars. “Don’t talk about him like that!”

The guard mutters something under his breath and heads for the exit.

I frown and cross my arms over my chest. My toes curl and unfurl as my fingers twitch. I rock on my sore heels, trying to calm down enough to stop myself from stimming. There are very important things going on. I don’t have time to give in to the urge. It’s a coping mechanism and a way I self-soothe, but once I get into the stim too deeply, I tend to zone out.

That can’t happen right now.

McCabe said the doctor is on her way, meaning it’s an emergency to get Valor’s attention focused back on me.

My feet are freezing from standing on the bare concrete, and my gaze bounces between the terrible bed and the blanket McCabe shoved through the bars.

I bet a little of Valor’s body warmth would help tremendously.

My thoughts end up a jumbled mess as I try to determine how to make him let me get close…without him accidentally hurting me.

Alphas purr to comfort omegas.

Omegas, in turn, have special pheromones we can release to soothe ourselves or our chosen alphas. Closing my eyes, I focus on taking several deep breaths while concentrating on wanting to calm myself and my alpha.

I’ve tried over the years but never managed. At the time, I attributed my inability to produce those pheromones to the fact I was taking suppressants.

God, I hope that’s the case.

Maybe I’m just broken, and I’ll never be able to have that particular skill?

No, stop it! Focus, dammit.

Several long seconds pass, and a warmth fills my chest, echoing out through my nerve endings.

A slow smile crosses my face as my nose twitches. Based on the fact I can now smell my pheromones over the overpowering stench of human blood, I think it worked.

Valor’s back is still to me, and I approach slowly, but not quietly enough. One second, I’m eyeing the back of his head, and the next, his tattooed hand is wrapped around my throat. He lifts me into the air, and my back slams against the bars of the cell.

I squeak, my hands flying to his forearm as I claw at his skin. His hold tightens on my neck, and I fight against the overwhelming fear.

“Hey,” I choke out.

The bars don’t feel great against my backside, but he didn’t use his full force. I know that much without a doubt.

He slides a knee between mine, and it only takes another second to realize he’s not strangling me. Sure, he’s applying a decent amount of pressure to my throat, but I can still breathe.

“Bad move, little omega,” he growls in his thick Scottish accent. His nostrils flare as his head tilts, and he gets close to my cheek. I’m torn between being grateful he formed actual words and concerned over why he’s baring his teeth so close to my face. His nose teases down my cheek as he applies firmer pressure to my neck. “You smell…wrong.”

The sides of my vision go hazy, but I’m still able to breathe if I take shallow breaths. Every instinct in my system is buzzing and trying to convince me to panic and flee, but they can shut the hell up. I have a job to do.

His hold on my throat tightens, and it’s clear I have to do something.

“Valor, you know me. I came in here to help you ,” I manage to rasp out.

“But you reek of another alpha?” His free hand lands on my hip, and he yanks my bottom half closer to his pelvis while keeping hold of my throat with the other.

He pulls back enough to stare straight into my eyes, and I grimace, not because of his words but because of the black eye he’s still sporting from when he saved me the first day. The cut in his eyebrow was staying closed on its own before he got into the tussle at the court, and now it’s open again, along with one on his other cheek.

“I hate seeing you injured.” I pull my fingers from his forearm and brush them next to the gash on his cheek.

He snarls, snapping at my wrist and baring his teeth.

It takes everything in me not to pull my hand away as my heart thumps wildly.

Okay, I thought he was on the way back to a clearer level of consciousness, but we’re not there yet. My vision is no longer hazy, though, so I think he may have loosened his grip on my throat.

“Omen picks on you for being a baby about having your injuries tended.” I flutter my lashes. “Your beta is right.”

“Why do you smell wrong?” he asks with his chest heaving.

I ignore the blood-soaked material and keep my eyes on his. “You knew they took my suppressants away, and you still got yourself locked up in here. You don’t get to make me feel bad. If you don’t like the way I smell, then I suggest you cover me in your scent.”