Ozias shrugged one shoulder. It drew attention to the massive scar on his neck, a ragged bite mark from when a feralalpha had tried to rip out his throat with his teeth. “Won some coloured pencils in a bet a while back. Sketchbook, too. Good gift?”
I had a few colours of spray paints in our room, but wall art wasn’t a good gift for an omega. She couldn’t carry it around with her.
A torn-out sketchbook page, though…
“Deal.”
Painkillers were good to have, but if we got out of here in a week, we wouldn’t need them. Ozias would. Far as I knew, he didn’t have an appeal coming up anytime soon, and the only way he gained leverage in this place was in fights.
It was a good trade for both of us, as much as I knew the fucker had only approached to antagonize me.
He produced a small box of coloured pencils and a mini-sized sketchbook from his back pocket, trying to hand them to me.
I shook my head. “Pills aren’t on me.”
He snorted. “Bring ‘em out tomorrow. I trust you.”
My eyes narrowed. Trust? No. You couldn’t trust anyone down here—sometimes not even your own pack.
His smirk grew, and he shoved the items into my hands forcibly. “I trust that you don’t need anymore enemies right now. ‘Specially not me. And if you die before you get me my side of the deal, I’ll take the pills off your corpse.”
It took every fucking ounce of self control I had, dredged up from the silt of my very being, to stop myself from breaking his goddamn nose.
But I didn’t.
That was progress, right?
Maybe I wouldn’t be the one keeping my pack down here after all.
Ozias almost seemed surprised that I didn’t rise to the bait, his smirk dropping ever so slightly. The cafeteria worker clearedhis throat, and I looked over my shoulder to see Bug and Rick waiting impatiently beside my three heaping plates. Finnian was waiting at the mouth of the hall that led to our cells, absently picking off dried pieces of spray paint from his arms, half ready to sprint back if a fight broke out.
“You’ll get your painkillers tomorrow,” I muttered, putting the pencils and sketchbook in my other pocket and picking up the plates with one balanced on my arm.
Bug tried to take one, but I growled at him. This was my task for my pack, and I didn’t needhelp.
I could take care of my omegas all on my own.
I could balance myself.
I needed to, because if I couldn’t I’d be dooming us all.
Without another word, I stalked back toward the cell to my waiting, hungry omega.
After returning to the room, I thrust a plate into Vandle’s waiting hands, then Phantom’s, keeping the last one for myself.
“Why’d you only get three plates?” Sin narrowed his eyes at me.
“You and Crescent can eat off ours.”
I needed to do fucking something. Maybe a little caretaking would remind my brain what mattered. Not ruts or fights or the thrill I got from bloodshed.
Omegas.Myomegas.
“Like hell.” Sin pushed to his feet. “Try and feed me, and I’ll stab you in the eye with a fork.”
Crescent looked wide-eyed up from her place on the bed. Vandle whispered something in her ear, and her panicked expression softened into a little giggle.
Probably told her Sin was joking.