Page 27 of Captive Omega

As I stare at him, a memory flickers behind my eyes.

Bland faced men wearing all white drag me from the cells to the glass walled auction room where alphas shroud themselves in dark shadows, barely visible in the darkness. An announcer's voice rings out, calling out prices. Selling me off like a cow at the market.

Doctors wear white, and I can’t do white coats, so hospitals are a no go.

But my baby…

My fingers flutter to my belly. Vaughn watches, his expression inscrutable as he waits for me to decide what comes next.

I jumped out of a window, smashed into a tree. Fell out of said tree.

And I lived.

I feel okay, but how would I know if my baby was?

“Your doctor can come here?”

“Sadie can.” He nods at the knife in my head. “Though she might not be as understanding as I am about any stabby tendencies you might have.”

I consider it.

The coat is a big deal. Less of one if she comes here.

White coats are a painful reminder of the Asylum rooms where they would drug a girl and prep her for auction.

If this doctor is doing house visits, then maybe she’ll forget to bring her coat with her. I could ask Vaughn to tell her to leave it behind, but he will wonder why. Worse, it might get back to the alphas downstairs, and I refuse to show weakness to any alpha.

The biggest question is, could I live with myself if anything happened to my baby when I could have prevented it?

And the answer is no. I could not.

“Okay. I’ll see your doctor.” My hand tightens around the knife hilt as my eyes narrow. “But I’m keeping my knife.”

His delighted grin is that of a spoiled kid on Christmas morning. “You know what, Resa? I think we’re gonna be friends.”

And seeing that grin, I think he might be right.

Chapter 8

Resa

The dark-haired woman who slips into the room after knocking softly is slim, in her early thirties, wearing a deep blue sweater that almost matches her eyes, black jeans and white tennis shoes. No doctor’s coat anywhere.

I let out an inaudible sigh of relief.

“Hi Resa, I’m Sadie.” She aims a warm smile at me.

“Not doctor?” I ask.

She shakes her head and lifts her black leather bag. “Not tonight. Tonight, I’m just Sadie, who wants to see if I can help. I brought some supplies. I hope you don’t mind?”

Vaughn hinted she might have a problem with my newly awakened stabby tendencies. Vaughn wasn’t being honest because she doesn’t give the knife I’m gripping more than a passing glance. She’s too busy frowning at the small pile of glass fragments on the bedside table.

Vaughn, hovering just outside the room, flashes me a grin before Sadie nudges the door closed.

“What kind of supplies?” I ask.

Hopefully not the drug kind.

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