Page 78 of Sacrifice

As I shuffle forward, the cuffs dig into my wrists, a stark reminder of my helplessness. The guards flank me, their presence oddly non-threatening despite the situation. That’s when I notice it—their scent. It’s not the harsh, metallic tang of alphas or the neutrality of betas, but something softer, sweeter.

“Omegas?” I mutter under my breath, my eyes narrowing as I study them more closely. “You’re using omegas as guards?”

“Bluestockings,” Huxley corrects without missing a beat, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve proven to be quite effective.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” I scoff, the irony of it all not lost on me. Gunnar and Aisling, using omegas to keep an alpha like me in check. My own home turned into a prison, where even the jailers are a slap in the face. It’s clever, I’ll give them that. Disarming in its absurdity.

“Times change, Mr. Solace,” Huxley says, leading us down the corridor. “And we must adapt with them.”

“Adapt or die, huh?” I reply, half to myself. It’s a cruel game, but one I recognize all too well. If they’re playing it this way, then there’s more at stake here than just my pride. They want something from me. Something only I can give.

As I step out of the confines of the cell, my nostrils flare, picking up a scent that’s as familiar as it is unwelcome. Oberon stands among the guards, his eyes locked onto me like a hawk. He’s always been Aisling’s shadow, her loyal pet. I knew I should never have trusted him—loyal only to the Eclipse…then to Aisling.

Was he the one who suggested all this? Who turned closest allies against me?

“Enjoying the view?” I snap, the words laced with venom.

“Easy, Vance,” Oberon warns, his voice a low growl. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Your choice.”

I let out a huff, the fight draining out of me as much as my pride will allow. “Lead the way.”

I shuffle forward, the click of cuffs echoing against the sterile walls. We move through the labyrinthine corridors, the air growing colder, more oppressive. It’s no mistake that we’re heading for the elevator, the same one I’ve ridden countless times before—only now, I’m not the one holding the keys. The elevator dings, and we ascend, leaving behind the bowels of my once impenetrable fortress. Each floor brings a wave of memories, each more suffocating than the last. This was where I kept Gunnar and Aisling when they were my captives, where I’d thought I held all the power. And now, here I am, the captive in my own gilded cage.

“Is this supposed to be some kind of sick revenge?” I mutter to myself, though I know they can all hear me. “Locking me up in the same place I held Aisling?”

No one answers, but I can feel their eyes on me, weighing me down further. By the time the doors open, I’m practically dragging my feet.

“This isn’t meant to be a punishment, Vance.” Huxley rarely uses my first name, even though he’s known me since I was a child—and it’s that sole detail that makes me feel even worse. He really thinks he’s helping me.

“Well, it feels an awful lot like one,” I say.

They don’t respond; instead, they bring me to a familiar door. Again, it’s the room where I kept Gunnar and Aisling…where I watched them fuck. I scowl at my captors as Huxley gestures toward the door.

“You can go and get cleaned up,” Huxley says. “This will be your accommodation for the time being. There’s a change of clothes for you laid out on the bed.”

“Wow,” I snap. “Thank you so much for your generosity.”

The room’s solitude slams into me as the door clicks shut, leaving me alone with the hum of silence and the red glare of a camera lens. The omnipresent eye doesn’t waver. No privacy. No trust. I yank at my filthy clothes, peeling them off with a disgust that clings like the grime on my skin.

Is she watching right now?

Does she like seeing me like this?

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, stepping into the shower. Hot water cascades over me, scalding and soothing in equal measure. It strips away the layers of filth, but it can’t cleanse the betrayal that festers deep within. My fingers run through my hair, unkempt and matted—another stark reminder of how far I’ve fallen. How long did they leave me to rot?

The steam wraps around me, a fleeting comfort as I scrub away a week’s worth of captivity. But even here, I’m not free. The camera’s unblinking eye is etched into the back of my mind, Aisling’s mark on my every move.

I step out, the chill of the air biting at my wet skin. Huxley’s left clothes for me: sweats and a t-shirt. They’re clean, simple, devoid of any personal touch. This is no olive branch; this is control, a silent echo of Aisling’s own imprisonment. I pull them on, and the fabric feels foreign against my skin.

No shoes.

That feels like a barb.

“Game on, Stargazer,” I whisper to myself, a wry smile touching my lips despite the gravity of my situation. She’s playing at something here—and I’ll be damned if I don’t figure out what.

With a heavy heart, I open the door. The guards stand as before, stoic sentinels in the dim light, but now Luka’s there too. His presence feels like a taunt, yet another pawn in whatever game we’re caught in.

“Really, guys? You need two to take me down?” I scoff, trying to inject some bravado into the moment. Oberon and Luka don’t flinch as they move to either side of me, their hands gripping my arms with a firmness that leaves no room for argument.

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