Page 167 of Sawyer

Wait. Wasn’t Sawyer talking about a medical journalist who speculated what the doc proved? What are the odds it’s the same beta?

“I’d love to talk to him about his research.”

She holds up her hands. “As you can see, he isn’t here.”

Her lip turns down just a fraction, and she plays the part well, but she’s lying. I turn to Bryn, who cocks his head to the side, and I nod. With a smile, he moves furniture.

“What the hell are you doing?” She stands, her chair falling backward. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, but he can. See, you’re under arrest,” I tell her, and the two deltas step in, cuffing her and dragging her out of the room. “Throw her in the van.” She’s going to Bridgeburn, where we will put her in a cell for interrogation.

“Suspicious,” Bryn says and kicks the wall. This room has wooden panels instead of regular drywall for the walls, yet as he kicks it, a small door unlocks and creaks open.

Bryn grips the wall and yanks it open, only to find a wide-eyed Doc. He’s scrunched up in what should be nothing more than a space for a hidden safe. Instead, it’s a little area where the man hid.

“Oh, Sawyer is going to be so excited,” Sin whispers in awe. None of us expected to find him in there.

“Well, Doc, you are under arrest,” I tell him, and Bryn hauls him out of the space and zip-ties his hands.

He doesn’t say a damn word as we toss him into the back of the van with his sister. With a single slap to the side, the van rumbles off toward the base.

“Let’s go get our girl.” For the first time in weeks, everything looks like it might be looking up.

Sawyer

“Do you blame them, Sawyer?” Daisy’s pencil taps the paper once before she focuses her chocolate brown eyes on me. Her thick, wavy blonde hair moves as she tilts her head to focus on me entirely. I know she’s watching every minute detail I give her.

I hand every emotion over to this woman on a silver platter. In the past few weeks, she’s become not just my therapist but a friend, even though I’m sure I am just another patient to her. Between her and Violet, I’m healing.

Her question, however, catches me off guard, and my hands plop to my thighs. I can feel the skin on my forehead stretch and then compress as I think through her question.

“Who?” My lips feel dry, and I reach for the small glass of water she always has sitting out for me. She doesn’t just listen to me, but she also absorbs what I say. After our first session, when all I could recall was how thirsty I was in captivity, she set out a pitcher of water and a small glass.

During my second session, I drank the entire pitcher.

“Sin, Rumor, and Bryn,” she answers. “Do you hold them accountable for what happened?”

Do I?

I hadn’t thought about it before. Even now, as the question rolls around in my head again and again, I don’t believe that I do.

That isn’t good enough.

Do I blame them?

“No,” I say so sharply that I cover my lips with my fingertips. “I don’t blame them.” Daisy waits for me to go on with a patience I never could quite muster. She never pressures me, even though our time is almost up. She just waits and often gives me a perspective I never would have come up with on my own. “I blame society.”

She tilts her head a little more, her eyes taking me in, and that pencil of hers taps once. I know it’s a tic of hers, and she tries to maintain it. I love it because it lets me know she’s normal.

“How do you blame society?” Her calm and even voice never fails to give me a secure sense of safety.

“Society teaches us that only omegas are worthy enough to obtain a pack, that they are the ones who can carry our race forward, and the previous monarchy fed that lie.”

“Why do you believe it is a lie?”

“It is a lie.” My words hold a conviction I didn’t realize I carried until I spoke them. I sigh as I feel a premature sense of relief with what I’m about to say. “We are all worthy of a pack.”

A smile stretches across her face. “Strong words, Sawyer.”

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