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He nods.

9

AERIN

On our way back inside the house, we enter through a side door, passing a room with a closed door where I hear low female voices.

I’m instantly curious.

Omegas were being kidnapped across the country, and even though we spent the last few minutes wandering outside, I haven’t caught even a hint of a woman. It’s just been men busy with construction.

Trying not to show too much curiosity, I glance at the closed door. “Is that another living room?”

Shane shrugs. “Probably. Let’s go.”

A brown-haired man in paint splattered overalls approaches us from the hallway. “Have you seen Franklin?”

Shane points the way we came. “Outside. About five or ten minutes ago.”

The man looks at me and he smiles. “Ah, our new arrival.”

“Yes, she is.” Shane steps in front of me. “Aerin, you remember the way to our room, don’t you?”

For a moment, I struggle to summon a response.

I spent nearly a year with Shane in his pack. When he wasn’t pretending I didn’t exist, he loved to rub his relationship with Bree in my face.

This side of him is one I don’t think will ever stop surprising me. He sounds like he’s being genuine, but after seeing so much of his bad side, I can’t accept this version of him. It doesn’t feel real.

“Sure.”

I skirt around the men and walk down the hallway.

When I look back, they’re both watching me.

I twist back around and keep walking.

When I reach a bend in the hallway, I stop and wait.

Shane doesn’t catch me up. I’m in no hurry to rush back to the room we’re supposed to share. Soon it will be dark and I’ll have to face up to that one bed situation I would rather pretend doesn’t exist.

I wait for about a minute, then I peek around the corner. There’s no sign of Shane or the man who was staring at me, though a door further down, the backyard door, I think, is open.

They must have gone to find Franklin. Or maybe there is something Shane wants to talk to Franklin about that he doesn’t want me to know.

I hesitate, my gaze lingering on that closed door where I heard female voices.

It’s probably not a good idea to linger like this after Franklin’s threats, but this might be the only chance I’m alone.

I hurry toward the closed door, grip the handle, twist, and come face to face with a room full of women. I count fifteen of them.

All are young. In their late teens, twenties, and maybe even early thirties.

None of them look bruised or hurt. If anything, they seem comfortable spread around the room with bunk beds set up onone side, and a dining area with chairs and tables on the other side.

On the back wall are two closed doors I assume lead to the bathrooms or closets.

“Who are you?” a woman frowns at me as another gets to her feet.

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