Page 22 of The Omega Trials: Part One

Huffing in frustration, Titus goes to knock again. “It’s like she doesn’t know how to turn a fucking knob—”

The door finally swings open. His fist hangs in the air, mid-knock. The nervous attendant that brought Sinclair to the ceremony stands sheepishly in the doorway. Titus towers over her, and standing right behind him, we aren’t much shorter. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Don’t worry, Seventeen.” Sinclair appears and places a hand on her shoulder, stepping in front of her with renewed confidence that is a one-eighty from where I left her last night in the bathroom.

“He won’t hurt you.” Her lip curls ever so slightly, and her icy blue eyes cut fearlessly to Titus’s. “That’s reserved for me. His little omega whore. Isn’t that right,Titty?”

Bishop chokes on a laugh, trying to turn it into a cough, and I’m having just as much luck trying to hide mine. I watch the muscle at the back of Titus’s jaw turn into a tight ball. His energy crackles. I can’t tell if he’s on the verge of doing something we will all regret.

I reach out and grab Sinclair’s arm, pull her out of the room, and stride down the hall. “It’s a bit early for dirty talk, hmm?” She flinches when I release her to drag my hand over her soft hair down to the small of her back. Something about it only makes me pull her tighter to my side. I lean over to whisper in her ear and can’t help but take a deep inhale of her delicious scent as I do. “Guess we’ll have to work harder to tire you out tonight.”

Abruptly, she stops and kicks out her foot. I don’t realize quickly enough and catch my ankle, tripping forward. It’s a graceless stumble, but I remain upright, embarrassment and annoyance bursting like a flair inside me.

One second, I’m regaining my footing, and the next my forehead is pressed against hers while I pin her to the hallway wall with my hand around her throat.

“I feel nothing but indifference for you, Omega,” I snarl, purposefully using the title she seems to hate even though I now know her name. I continue in a low, husky tone, “I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you. But I don’thateyou. If you thought last night was bad, just imagine if I did.”

“We don’t have time for this shit. We’re already late.” Bishop grunts as he passes.

I drop my hand and take a step back with a final warning. “Don’t make me hate you.”

The Elders’ council room is a vast, stately boardroom with a long, polished table and intricately carved wooden chairs upholstered with leather. I expected the entire council to be here, an elected Elder from each family.

Instead, we are invited to sit across from the Azurite Elder. The shiny, golden antlers of his stag mask are beginning to have a Pavlovian effect on me where rather than salivating, I just want to punch someone.

Titus fills out his chair fully, his shoulders wider than the back, while Sinclair is dwarfed by hers. I shiver with an unexpected wave of nausea as I remember the look of her knobby elbows and knees last night and how she fought us despite her paltry muscles.

Burgers.

We’ll go get burgers after this, I decide.

“I hope you’ve found your transition to the Estate is going smoothly,” Azurite states but raises his pitch at the end as if it’s a question.

I’m sure there is only one right answer. I begin, “It’s been—”

“Well, it must seem like a paradise compared to your previous . . . ,” he interrupts, then drums his fingertips together as if gathering a profound thought. “. . .accommodations.”

His eyes quickly dart between all of us, and I wonder if he’s referring to our warehouse or the whorehouse.Probably both.

Titus clasps his hands together on the table in front of him and asks curtly, “Are we waiting on others to begin?”

The Elder guffaws dryly. “Enough pleasantries for you, Cerulean?”

My chest expands. It’s the first time any of us have been referred to by ourtruelast name. We’ve gone by Crocker since exile to avoid attention, and all the Elders we’ve interacted with up until this point called us by our first names.

There’s something greatly satisfying about the address but also troublingly real. We’ve spent our whole lives working to get here, and now that we’ve made it, there are only two options left: succeed or fail.

“I think we’re all eager to hear how a noble omega ended up at a brothel in the first place.” Bishop has always been able to talk like a politician. Diplomatic words undercut with a firmness that carries a threat without beingovertlythreatening.

“And why she hadn’t manifestedbeforethe ceremony?” Titus adds much more forcefully.

“Ah, well, that was quite a surprise to us as well.” The masked Elder tilts his head and looks pointedly at Sinclair.

I scoff at his pathetic attempt to feign ignorance. The Echelon loves dressing up their agendas, disguising their true intentions behind layers of noise and circumstances.

Like when our parents were arrested, the police took all of them, even the non-noble partners. Some farce about needing to sign paperwork. Of course, they expected us to believe it was completely unrelated that they all died in a car accident on the way.

I have no doubt the Echelon is responsible for putting all six of them in that car at that exact moment.

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