Page 65 of The Violence of Love (The Black Market Omega #2)

Rhett

Six fucking days. That’s how long it took us to get across the goddamn border.

It didn’t help that we had to ditch Brock’s van near Cassenville when the piece of shit broke down and refused to start again.

Thankfully, I brought all the cash from my safe back home, so we managed to buy a replacement.

The guy at the tiny dealership didn’t even blink when I told him I’d lost my ID.

If anything, he seemed used to selling cars for cash—no questions asked.

I guess that’s to be expected this close to the border.

The new car didn’t fit all of us, which meant saying goodbye to Brock and Melissa. I tried to shove some cash at them, and of course, Brock protested at least a dozen times. Eventually, he took it, then promised to swing by our apartment and bring a few more of our things once everything settled.

Myrick loudly claimed he didn’t need anything—but the second Autry turned her back, he leaned in and asked Brock to bring the espresso maker.

But we’re finally almost there.

Our new home.

“How did you find this place?” Oli asks as the SUV jolts over a rough cut of road. If you can even call it a road. It’s more like a suggestion—half-covered in wild grass and creeping underbrush, the kind of place people forget exists.

“I bought it last year.”

Oli’s eyes go wide. “Aren’t you worried that someone will come here looking for us? I know that the laws here are pretty shit, but Donall could?—”

“No one knows about this place,” I say. “I bought it through a shell account.” I glance in the rearview mirror, looking at Myrick. He’s reaching over Charlie in the middle, trying to check on Autry, not listening. “After Jason.”

A flash of understanding moves through Oli’s eyes.

I don’t have to say out loud that I was planning on killing Jason after what he did to Myrick.

That I tried like hell to track him down, drag him up here, and make him pay.

Oli knows. Sadly, I found out a few months later that he died in a bar fight. I never got my revenge.

A low, strangled sound from the backseat draws my attention.

I glance in the mirror again at Autry.

She’s curled into the door, jaw clenched and her body trembling despite the sweat beading at her temples. Her scent is thicker now—undeniable. Rich and heady, like crushed sugared-icing and sharp lemon citrus. I don't smell slick yet, but soon.

Charlie says it’s pre-heat, but I think she’s in heat.

Maybe the early stages, maybe something in between, but her body’s heading there whether she wants to admit it or not.

“I’m not in heat,” Autry grits out, like she can read my mind. “I just don’t feel good.”

Charlie shakes his head like he wants to scold her, but he keeps his mouth shut. Myrick, on the other hand, is trying not to panic. He has one hand on her knee like he can hold her together through sheer force of will.

Autry groans and the air shifts a touch sweeter.

Oli turns to me, voice low. “We need to get her inside. Soon.”

“I know.”

The tires thump over a hidden tree root and Autry whimpers, curling tighter.

“You’re not fine,” Charlie murmurs, gently wiping the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “It’s okay to admit you need tending to,” he says softly. “Rhett can pull over. We can?—”

“I know my own body,” she snaps, then winces. “This isn’t heat. It’s not. I’m just… I’m tired. I’m hot and my head hurts. I just need to get out of this car.”

So fucking stubborn.

“You’re scared,” I say, keeping my voice calm as I guide the SUV up the last narrow bend. “And that’s okay. Your body’s confused. Distress and heat don’t mix well.”

She doesn't answer. Just stares out the window with glassy eyes.

“It doesn’t make you weak,” I add.

That gets her attention. She turns, blinking at me like she’s seeing me clearly for the first time all day.

“You’re not weak,” I repeat. “You’ve been running on adrenaline for weeks. Your system’s in freefall. And now that we’re almost safe, your body’s doing what it’s been holding off.”

She swallows hard. “But I don’t want this to happen now. My nest isn’t…” Her bottom lip quivers. “I miss home.”

“I know,” I say. “But we’ll get your nest ready, sweetheart. Everything will be perfect.”

When we crest the last ridge, the cabin finally comes into view. It’s hidden behind a large cluster of oak trees, the roof nearly caved in with moss, and the driveway is more gravel and roots than anything else. But it’s there.

Safe and secluded.

I ease the car to a stop, engine ticking. No other vehicles. No signs of life. Only wilderness and sky.

“We’re here,” I say quietly.

Autry doesn’t move.

Charlie wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside.”

She barely nods.

Oli’s already jumping out, circling to help open the back door. Myrick grabs two of the smaller bags, while I step up onto the porch. The boards groan and bow under my feet as I unlock the cabin door and push it open.

The air inside is dusty and thick. There’s a fireplace, an open kitchen, a single hallway leading to three small bedrooms, and the furniture looks older than I am. It’s not great—but it’ll do.

It has to do.

I turn back in time to see Autry stumbling a little on her way up the porch steps. And for the first time since we left the city, I feel it in my gut. This is it.

It’s been almost two months since I brought Autry home. Two months of waiting for her heat, waiting to properly mate and bond. And it’s finally happening .

But I hate that it’s happening right now .

Autry deserves more. She deserves the nesting bed we left behind—pillows and blankets so perfectly layered it looked like a cloud. She deserves silk sheets, cooling fans, warm lights, and everything soft and comforting.

But I don’t let myself wallow. Everything else about this place is perfect. The location, the nature, and the safety. We’ll slowly collect the things our omegas need. In the meantime, we’re together, and that’s all that matters.

Myrick steps inside, Dolly clutched tight to his chest like a security blanket. His gaze sweeps over the open space, and I catch the subtle shift in his expression. Disappointment. He tries to hide it, but I’ve known him too long.

“This place is… rustic,” he says, voice a little tight.

I glance at him.

And he smiles—bright, too bright. “I mean, it’s got charm, right?”

I smile and squeeze his shoulder. “Thanks for trying.”

Oli’s already moving, shedding his jacket as he circles the cabin. He throws open every window he passes, muttering under his breath about airflow and mildew.

“It’s not bad,” Charlie says, helping Autry step carefully around a loose floorboard. “It just needs some love.” He glances toward the kitchen, then back at me. “Is there electricity?”

“There should be,” I say, flicking the nearest switch.

Nothing.

I try another.

Still nothing.

“The main generator’s out back.” I angle toward the door. “I’ll grab a few more bags while I’m out there, too.”

Charlie holds Autry a little tighter, moving toward the narrow hallway. “Alright, Autry and I are going to find the biggest bed.” I notice the way her feet drag as she moves, her knees almost giving out several times.

We don’t have much time.

“Myrick?” I turn to my mate, but he’s already on the move.

“I’ll grab the nesting supplies.” He breezes past me, a blur of blond hair and nervous energy.

Outside, the sun’s starting to set. The oak trees cast long shadows across the ground, but the sky’s still that brilliant kind of blue that only happens when there’s nothing around for miles.

It’s bizarre, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I can breathe .

The air here doesn’t taste like smog or city dust. It’s fresh. Crisp. Clean. And quiet—God, the quiet . Oli walks beside me in silence, scanning the outside wall of the cabin as we go. There’s some water damage and rusted nails that need to be replaced, but I can’t help but love it.

Sure, the nearest town is a forty-five-minute drive, and the roof might cave in if we sneeze too hard, but my pack has a chance to build a life here that we’d never have in the city.

We circle the back of the cabin, past the leaning woodpile and a rusted-out grill. I spot the generator tucked beside what’s left of the shed. It’s old—like really old. Half-covered in spiderwebs and pine needles.

I pop the lid and immediately curse under my breath.

I give it a kick, but there’s no satisfying slosh of fuel inside.

Empty. Of course. Then I notice the chewed-up wires near the starter.

Fucking squirrels…or raccoons, hell, maybe even a porcupine—something with teeth and zero respect for private property.

“Outta gas?” Oli asks, stepping up beside me .

“And half-eaten,” I mutter, standing upright and wiping my hands on my jeans. “We can get parts in town.”

Oli doesn’t answer right away. He looks past me, toward the tree line and the ridge beyond it. A sliver of orange light kisses the mountaintops in the distance.

“This place is actually kinda nice,” he says, arms folded. “I mean, I grew up in the city—billboards, noise, corner stores on every block. So this?” He tilts his chin toward the horizon. “It’s gonna take some getting used to.”

I look the alpha up and down, imagining him chopping wood and hunting deer. “How do you feel about being a country boy?”

He shrugs with that cocky little grin. “As long as I get to enjoy all the clichés.”

“Like what?” I ask, already suspicious.

He turns to me, expression deadpan. “Barnyard sex.”

I bark out a laugh, nearly doubling over. “Where the fuck did you hear that stereotype?”

“I don’t know,” he says, suddenly a little sheepish. “Porn, maybe?”

I roll my eyes, still chuckling. “Hate to disappoint you, but we don’t have a barn.”

Oli sweeps his gaze across the property, pretending to size it up. “We can always build one.”

I shake my head, still grinning like an idiot, but it fades when Oli’s expression turns thoughtful.

“Do you think Autry’s heat might trigger Charlie’s again?” he asks. “I know it’s early in his cycle, but still…”

I nod slowly. “I asked him a few days ago. He said probably not this time. But yeah, eventually, they’ll likely sync.”

Oli clicks his tongue, dragging a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “Two omegas in heat. That might kill us.”

I smirk. “There are worse ways to go. ”

Then it hits.

A scream.

High-pitched. Guttural. Raw.

Followed immediately by a burst of perfume—sweet and sharp, citrusy and overwhelming. Lemon and sunshine and slick . I smell it through the fucking walls .

Oli and I lock eyes. No words. Shared instinct.

She needs us.