“Joker, status. Now. What is going on?” Siren asks firmly.
I back away, letting the door close to muffle the sounds for a moment. A chill runs down my spine, and I have to swallow the bile trying to crawl up my throat.
“An omega. They’re…they’re torturing her,” I whisper faintly.
Memories start to float forward in my mind. Snarls and skin slapping, the stench of alphas too far gone, blood. So much fucking blood. Sobbing. Screaming.
“I have to help her,” I say after a moment, cutting across whatever Siren might have been saying.
“Joker. Stop. Now.”
Another chill runs down my spine, my limbs freezing as I go to step forward. Siren’s voice resonates in my ear, my instincts obeying instantly to their alpha bark.
“Finish the plan. Leave the omega. She’s not our problem,” Siren says, still with that overwhelming force of will.
“I need—”
“Go to the computer, Omega.”
I lurch forward, my limbs animating on their own, moving me back to the computer cart. I try to fight off the bark as Siren orders me through giving them access to the facility’s mainframe, but it’s like I’m a puppet, unable to do anything except what they say.
“Now walk away, Omega.” Siren barks after we finish hacking the system.
And even though I hate every microsecond of it, my feet move inexorably away from Sawyer and her torture chamber and back to the common room. Only then do I feel the compulsion fade.
“You’re a cunt, you know that?” I grumble at them when I sink down onto the couch near the window.
“We have a job to do. It would do you some good to remember that,” Siren replies coldly.
Before I can retort the line goes dead. For a long moment, I consider going back to help Sawyer, but I’m exhausted from fighting against the alpha bark. And even when I do feel a little better, Delilah emerges from her session looking like death warmed over.
When she reaches me, I hold out my arms and without protest, she curls up against me, hiding her face in my shirt. My plan solidifies as I keep her close for the rest of the afternoon.
I might not be able to save every omega here, but I’m sure as shit going to save this one.
Chapter nine
BreakfastonthefirstSaturday of every month is a bittersweet treat. It’s one of the few days we get freshly cooked food instead of whatever microwaved eggs and frozen waffle or pancake combination we normally get. Some of my fellow patients are talking more openly today, not realizing what’s going to happen in just a few hours.
“Is it someone’s birthday or something?” King asks from beside me.
He’s been here for a few days now, following me around wherever I go, only leaving my side when he’s forced to by the staff. At first, I didn’t quite understand it, but now, I’m almost excited to get up in the morning and see him waiting for me just outside the secure door separating my residential wingfrom the rest of the facility. I could do without his constant stream of questions at times, but he’s good about sensing my moods and being quiet when I really need him to be.
I look up and sigh, taking in everything around us. There are too many nurses around for me to speak openly.
“Or something,” I repeat pointedly, looking around at the staff members.
I’m afraid he’s going to push, but thankfully he drops the subject. As I finish most of my meal, Claire comes over with a smile.
“It’s time for your morning session, my dear. We’ll see if you’ve made any progress since last time,” she says brightly.
King looks at me with the most serious expression I’ve seen on him, half out of his chair to follow me as I get to my feet. I hold up a hand to stop him.
“I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” I say, hoping he’ll actually listen this time.
“I can at least walk you to the door. I am a gentleman, after all,” he says, the attempt at a joke undermined by the seriousness of his frown.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. King. You have your first individual session soon, too,” Cindy says, approaching now that she knows he won’t snap at her again.