Page 19 of Rescue Me

“Out,” one of the officers grunts as I drag myself out of the car. I’m seconds away from collapsing but I don’t have time for that. The officers stay until I’m inside, waiting until I’ve stepped over the threshold, the door closing behind me with a finality that makes my chest tighten.

The smell hits me first—Hailey’s heat, thick and cloying, wrapping around me like a physical weight. It’s sickly sweet, mixed with the musk of Jackson and Lyle and it makes my stomach turn. I grit my teeth, breathing shallowly through my mouth, but it doesn’t help. The scent clings to everything.

Once upon a time, I used to enjoy her scent. It got me hard as all Omegas in heat do, but after smelling the Omega at the diner, Hailey’s scent is repulsive. She’s not my Omega; she never was but that moment finalized it for me.

Muffled voices filter from upstairs, Jackson and Lyle’s grunts and Hailey’s giggles mixed with breathy moans. A laugh echoes, followed by something I don’t want to interpret. My jaw tightens and I force myself to keep moving.

The kitchen is my escape, as much as any place in this house can be. I drop my bag by the door, shrugging off my coat and wincing as pain lances through my side. A quick check in the mirror tells me that the bruises are worse today, the deep purple marks spreading across my cheek like ugly reminders of where I stand. Or don’t.

Jackson’s credit card sits on the counter, a black plastic reminder of the leash they’ve got me on. I quickly pull up the delivery apps to order groceries, ingredients for Hailey’s preferred meals, and a fresh stock of descenter and scent blockers. They’ll arrive soon. At least I’m good for something, right?

I start wiping down counters that don’t need cleaning, scrubbing at nonexistent messes just to keep my hands busy. The hum of the refrigerator is the only sound until another laugh drifts down from upstairs. I clench my jaw, scrubbing harder, like it’ll erase the noise.

But it’s not the noise that gets to me. It’s the reminder of what I am here—an accessory to their happiness.

The Omega’s face flashes in my mind again—his eyes, his smile, his scent—it’s like a balm, soothing even as it hurts. I shouldn’t be thinking about him, but I can’t help it. Not here, surrounded by everything that makes me feel so small.

Another wave of pain rolls through me, sharper this time, and I stagger, bracing myself against the counter. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, and for a second, I think I might actually pass out. I force myself to stumble to the breakfast nook, sinking down onto the bench and pulling my knees to my chest.

“Just a few minutes,” I whisper to myself, my voice trembling. “Just... a few.”

But deep down, I know it’s never just a few. This is my life. And I’m so fucking tired of it.

Chapter thirteen

REID

The oven timer beeps snapping me out of my fog. For a second, I stare at it like it’s personally offended me before dragging myself to my feet. I have no idea when I turned it on or what I put in there but that’s the least of my worries. I hobble back to the counter, grabbing the nearest dishtowel to pull the tray out of the oven.

Hailey expects nothing less than culinary perfection during her heat. Not that she’d bother saying thanks if I delivered a five-star meal plated by a Michelin chef. No, Hailey’s thanks come in the form of sniffy complaints and the occasional tossed object, including the food I’ve made if it isn’t to her standards.Very rewarding.

I start preparing the rest of dinner, pulling together what’s in the fridge. Anything to keep my brain from wandering where it shouldn’t. But the harder I try, the more my mind drifts. The smells, the heat, the motions—it all feels disconnected like my body’s doing one thing while my brain taps out to play existential crisis bingo.

A knock at the door pulls me out of it. I shuffle over, my ribs complaining the whole way, and open it to find the delivery guy standing there with an armful of paper bags. “Supplies,” he says with a tight smile, handing me the clipboard to sign.

I resist the urge to ask if he’s got a spare ribcage in one of those boxes. Instead, I take the packages, nod a quick thanks, and lug them into the kitchen.

First order of business—slather my upper lip in scent blocker that I managed to sneak into the order. The chemical smell is sharp and kind of gross, but it’s better than choking on the syrupy sweetness of Hailey’s heat that’s been clinging to the air. I take a deep breath and sigh in relief. Small mercies.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of activity. Cooking. Cleaning. Setting up trays of food to leave outside the nest room like some kind of heat butler. The sounds from upstairs don’t help. Muffled voices, laughter, and… other noises filter down, making my stomach churn. I slam a cupboard shut harder than necessary and pretend it’s not bothering me.

By the time the evening rolls around, my body is ready to stage a mutiny. My side aches with every move and my head is swimming. I sink down onto the kitchen floor, leaning back against the cool cabinets. The cold seeps into my skin, and for a moment, it’s nice—almost grounding.

Then the heavy thud of footsteps on the stairs yanks me out of my daze. I barely have time to brace myself before Lyle storms into the kitchen, shirtless and radiating irritation as I instinctively shrink back against the counter.

“Why isn’t this finished?” he snaps, gesturing to the half-prepared tray of food on the counter. His voice cuts through the haze of exhaustion in my head.

“I was—” My voice catches, and I clear my throat, trying again. “I was about to—” That goddamn submissive version I put up returns but the snark is just beneath the surface, waiting for a chance to reveal itself. Because my body and mind have tasted our real mate giving me hope I shouldn’t cling to.

“Save it,” he growls, slamming a hand onto the counter hard enough to make me jump. He leans in close. “Do you think we have time for this, Beta? Do you think I have time for this?”

“I didn’t realize you had such a busy schedule of, what, existing and breathing?” I mutter before I can stop myself.Ah, there it is. Fuck, I’m going to die for that.

Lyle blinks, obviously unsure that’s what I just said. I haven’t once spoken out since I started. “What was that?” His voice drops, a dangerous edge to his tone, and before I can backpedal, he grabs my arm and yanks me forward. Pain flares in my side and I bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. “You’re pathetic,” he spits, dragging me out of the kitchen. “Can’t even do the one thing you’re here for. You think this is hard? You think you’re overworked? You have no idea how lucky you are.”

Lucky. Sure. That’s definitely what I’m feeling right now as he drags me down the hall, his grip bruising, his words a constant stream of venom. My feet barely keep up but I don’t bother responding. It’s not like he’s listening, anyway.

By the time we reach my room, I’m ready to collapse. Lyle shoves me through the door and I stumble, catching myself against the bed frame.

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