Page 21 of Captive Omega

We’ve all spent the last two weeks in a frustrating search for Resa, Everleigh’s pregnant omega friend. Yet here she is, the pretty guest Vaughn walked in the front door like he just bumped into her on the street and invited her home for dinner.

Resa. And she is our scent match.

A slight flutter of Garrison’s dark lashes is the only indication he gives that he’s as shocked as I am by the identity of our pretty guest.

I cross over to the head of the dining table, my usual seat, and sit down before I fall down.

“Resa?” Garrison repeats.

As she rests more of her weight on the wall, I notice the bloody footsteps in the white entryway floor. She’s hurt, barefoot, and bleeding.

“Yeah,” she says warily.

Between the dark bruise forming on her left shoulder, the scratches on her face, torn dress sleeve, and a wariness she’s doing nothing to hide, Resa is giving all the hallmarks of being a victim of abuse.

Those signs mean we give her space and we get Sadie on the phone as soon as possible to get her any medical attention she needs.

Vaughn has retreated to the other side of the doorway. He crosses his arms, rests his shoulder on the wall and looks down, though he has his head angled her way.

I breathe through my mouth. The scent of her is filling the room, making it hard to focus. She smells like heaven and I want to see if she smells even more incredible up close, but I plant my feet and order myself not to move.

“Someone asked us to find you,” Garrison says with his back to the kitchen island. He has his hands stuffed in his pockets.

It’s not how he usually stands. If someone has their hands in their pocket, they can’t grab you.

The reddish-purple bruise blooming on Resa’s shoulder looks like it came from a punch, and there are fainter, older bruises on her throat. If I could rip apart whoever put those bruises on her with my bare hands, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

“An alpha?” She angles her body to the open doorway, poised to run.

Garrison shakes his head. “No. You have a friend who was worried about you. She asks about you often.”

“She?” Resa’s brow furrows. “I don’t have?—”

“Everleigh,” Garrison softly interrupts. “She said she saw you in a cell where the Asylum held her. When she and Pack Ashe went to free you, you were gone.”

Relief, surprise, excitement swim across beautiful, large brown eyes. All fade as suspicion takes its place. “I don’t believe you.”

Garrison pulls his hands from his pockets. Her gaze bounces from him to the open doorway as Garrison walks over to join me at the dining table, taking the seat furthest from her.

The second he pulls his chair under the table, her tension levels visibly drop.

“That’s your prerogative. But we can help you,” Garrison says.

She snorts. “Help me. Right.”

Garrison nods. “We are not?—”

“All alphas are the same.” Her voice is cold and hard as she glares at him. “Scent matches mean nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. I have a life and a fiancé I intend to get back to. You can keep your help. I don’t want it.”

Air catches in my throat.

A fiancé?

I’m not sure I ever want her to see the worst of the scars I’m hiding under this turtleneck. But the most intense and burning jealousy sweeps me from head to toe. It’s like I’m back in the car all over again.

She is ours.

Garrison nods as if we’re discussing the weather, not the fact our scent mate is telling us she wants to leave us for another man. “We can help return you to that life. Perhaps once we’ve seen to your bloodied feet?”

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