Page 195 of Captive Omega

“You said Garrison asked you to stop by,” I recall.

“To see you.” She smiles. “He was concerned about you and the baby, and wanted to make sure there was no lasting damage from the drug.”

“Oh.” There’s no steam in the room, yet I get that same prickle behind my eyelids.

I lie down when Sadie asks me to so she can do the tests to make sure I’m okay.

Even after she’s left with more blood and urine samples, I keep thinking about Garrison changing the sheets as I slept, running me a bath that eased all my sore muscles, and asking Sadie to come and check on me and my baby.

I think about how I trusted Garrison Brewster to help me through my heat. He did, and he didn’t bite me because I didn’t want it.

Knock, knock.

Thinking Sadie forgot something, I get up, cross over to the door and immediately open it.

It’s not Sadie.

Garrison is in black pants and a smart white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to reveal muscled forearms.

I don’t know what to say to him.

“How are you feeling?” His question is quiet but his gaze is probing. As if he’s trying to peer through skin, blood, and bone to actually see for himself that I’m okay.

“Fine.”

It doesn’t feel like a good enough response. I’m struggling to think of what I’m supposed to say or do after we just spent the last four days well… fucking. Though that last time did not feel like fucking. It felt like something more.

He takes a step back. “I just wanted to let you know that Lex found your notebook and took it to your room.”

I nod my thanks.

He swings away. Then he stops and peers over his shoulder. “The trial ends in two days. If you still want to speak, and you want to do something with that list, let me know and I will make it happen.”

“Make what happen?”

“Change the world.”

“And you can do that, can you?” I arch my brow, doing nothing to hide my disbelief.

“Not me.” He points his chin at me. “But I think you can, Resa.”

I watch him go, then I close the door behind me and cross the hallway, returning to the elegant and slightly boring gray room that has increasingly felt more like home with each passing day.

Just as Garrison said, my notebook is sitting on top of a dresser. Someone has made my bed and left a window opened to let fresh air blow through the room.

I spend an hour flipping through my notebook, absorbing all the names of alphas who belong to Asylum. Not all of them bought me, but I heard their names and saw their faces, and they are just as guilty as the ones who hurt me.

I didn’t know all the names. Some, I wrote descriptions or sketched their faces from memory. This list is useless if I do nothing with it, just as the world will never change if I don’t do something about it.

I slip into a pair of cozy sweats and walk downstairs with my notebook, terrified and nervous at what I’m about to do. Garrison is sitting in the kitchen with a file open in front of him.

He doesn’t say a word as I walk over to him and hand him my notebook.

“These are the men who spent years selling me, trading me, and raping me. I think they did the same to other omegas for years.”

His expression doesn’t change as he takes the notebook from me. He doesn’t look at it. Just draws it toward him. “And the heat clinic you used,” he says quietly. “Do you have the name or address in here?”

I have fragments of that desperate search for a heat clinic, the relief I stumbled across one that had an empty suite, and the horror when I realized my door had another key someone used to enter. “I wrote down what I knew. It wasn’t much.”

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