“You bet your rear you do. Now, start moaning and shit. Better to play the long-con.”
That evening, when a bus of new convicts rolled up the road, I took my chance. My contraband phone was buried—literally—at the very edge of the camp. If my math was correct, I’d have about eight minutes to dig up the phone, make a call, and get back. Not ideal, sure, but I’d have to make do.
As soon as the guards repositioned to go check in the new prisoners, I made my move. Citing stomach issues—no one questioned diarrhea—I went to lie down and rest.
Thankfully, my contact who’d helped me enter the camp detailed all the security camera blind spots, so I was able to sneak out a back window toward the fencing without anyone noticing.
My steps were sluggish, despite the adrenaline running through my body. The sickness was taking a serious toll on me. There was a reason newly bonded alphas and omegas tended to take bonding leave.
Without one another, they became utterly useless those first few months. And I was feeling pretty damn useless. But I didn’t have time to baby myself.
Using only my hands, I clawed at the ground, dirt shoving up under my fingernails that I’d have to wash right away. I sighed when I recovered the cell phone, tucked safely inside a ziplock bag. I wasted no time ripping away the plastic and powering it up. Thankfully, it was a fairly modern device that turned on quickly.
There were no contacts, but I knew the number I needed to call by heart.
“Hello?” Nolan's controlled voice answered the call.
“Nolan, thank fuck, man.”
“Preston? It's good to hear from you. Did?—”
“I can't talk long,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m in a town called Fairhaven Springs. I fucked up.Big time. I accidentally bonded with an omega. She's on her own and needs help. I can't get to her.”
“What? How did?—”
“Will you go to her?” I asked, needing him to confirm. “It's been months. She's probably sick.”
I could see his eyeroll without being there. “Jesus, Preston. Of course, we'll go, but we need more information.”
Behind me, a light turned on.
Crap.
The guards were returning faster than I thought.
“I have to go. Fuck. Nolan, I’m in prison. Don’t reach out to me—please, just go to her!”
“Wait! How?—”
Regretfully, I hung up, quickly throwing the phone into the dirt and kicking the small mound of dug-up mud on top of it. I didn't have the time to be careful or worry about the bag.
As soon as it was covered, I turned on my heel and darted back toward my cabin. There were several inmates per cabin, but most of the ones in mine were greeting the new recruits.
Conversation got louder as I approached, my steps reverberating up through my body. I wasn’t going to be lying about the stomach issues in a moment.
It was close, but I slipped inside and rushed to my bunk.
I lay there, hands behind my head, the picture of casual while my heart pounded in my chest, fighting to control my breathing, when the door opened and a guard—Hamilton—poked his head in.
“You okay, Manville?”
Don’t sound out of breath.
I nodded, steadying myself. “Yeah, I think something I ate just disagreed with me. How are the newbies looking?”
“We’ve got our work cut out for us.” He laughed, bobbing his head.
Most of the guards at Camp Bower weren’t actually bad guys, usually trained firefighters themselves. Some of them had even been through the program before.