Page 36 of Feral Omega

"Listen," I say, my voice strained with the effort of keeping my own fury in check. "Ivy is still unconscious. She's hurt, she's traumatized, and she needs us here. With her. Not off on some half-cocked revenge mission."

Whiskey opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off with a look. "I want to storm that place as much as you do. Probably more. But if we go in guns blazing, it's going to be chaos. And in that chaos, they'll have a chance to cover their tracks, to hide the evidence, to make it seem like we're the crazy ones."

I can see the reluctant understanding dawning in their eyes, the way their shoulders slump slightly as the reality of the situation sinks in.

"We need to be smart about this," I continue, my voice low and intense. "We need to gather evidence, build a case, find out who's really responsible for this. And then, when the time is right, we'll take them down. Hard."

Plague nods slowly. Valek remains impassive, but I can see the glint of anticipation in his eyes. Wraith is still snarling softly, but he doesn't argue.

"We can start with asking her," Whiskey says, looking pointedly at Plague. "When are you waking her up?"

Plague meets my gaze, or at least those creepy ass lenses do. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," he says, his voice low and measured. "I think it's time to bring her out of the coma."

My heart skips a beat at his words, a mixture of anticipation and doubt coursing through me. I want nothing more than to see Ivy awake, to hear her voice, to know that she's truly on the mend. But I also know that waking up is just the beginning of a long and arduous journey for her.

"Are you sure she's ready?" I ask, my brow furrowed with concern. "She's been through so much. I don't want to rush things if she's not strong enough."

Plague nods. "She's ready," he says firmly. "Her body has had time to heal, and her vital signs are stable. Keeping her under any longer could do more harm than good."

I take a deep breath, weighing his words. Plague is the best medic I know, and if he says Ivy is ready, I trust his judgment.

"Okay," I say finally. "Let's do it. But we need to be prepared. She's going to be confused, scared, probably hostile. We need to give her space, let her come to us on her own terms."

The others nod in agreement, but I doubt this is going to go smoothly.

How can it when you throw a lamb into a den of wolves?

Chapter

Sixteen

IVY

My eyes snap open, heart racing as I sit up in a panic. Unfamiliar walls, the sterile scent of disinfectant, wires and tubes snaking from my body…

Where am I?

The last thing I remember is running, desperate to escape Plague's grasp, before collapsing into Thane's arms as the world faded to black.

A gentle hand on my shoulder startles me, and I whip around to see Plague standing beside the bed, his presence both unnerving and strangely calming. "Easy, Ivy. You're safe here," he says, his voice low and soothing through the mask. "I don't want to have to sedate you again, but I can't let you get so worked up. Just relax."

I eye him warily, my muscles tense, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. But something in his demeanor, the way he speaks to me, makes me hesitate. Slowly, reluctantly, I allow myself to sink back against the pillows, never taking my gaze off him.

Plague nods, seemingly satisfied with my compliance. He begins to ask me questions, his tone gentle yet firm. "Do you know where you are, Ivy?"

I glance around the room, taking in the medical equipment, the stark white walls. A clinic of some sort, that much is clear. But beyond that, I have no idea. I shake my head, not trusting my voice to remain steady.

He hums thoughtfully, then reaches out to tilt my chin up, shining a light into my eyes. I flinch at the sudden brightness, but force myself to hold still as he examines me. His touch is surprisingly gentle, his movements precise and efficient.

"You're in my clinic," he explains, taking off one leather glove and replacing it with a thin blue one. "You're perfectly safe here. I just need to make sure everything is as it should be."

When he reaches for my throat, I flinch, but he pauses with his hand hovering midair. "Just a brief exam. Nothing invasive, I promise."

After another pause, as if waiting for me to protest, he tries again. This time, I don't fight him as he gently presses his hand to the side of my throat. Feeling my pulse? My lymph nodes? He's done in a second either way, moving on to my wrists.

As he works, my mind races with questions. Why am I here? What happened after I passed out? And most importantly, what does Plague want with me?

I've spent so long running, hiding, fighting against the system that seeks to control and break omegas like me. And now, here I am, at the mercy of one of their most formidable agents.

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