Page 26 of The Omega Trials: Part One

Sinclair whips her head toward him and asks accusatorily, “What do you know about my grandma?”

He leans against the windowsill, backlit, and crosses his arms and ankles. “Only that she’s the biggest piece of leverage the Echelon has on you or else he wouldn’t have mentioned herat all.” We all know he’s referring to the Azurite Elder when we were leaving the meeting. “If you eventhinkabout running away, you’ll be signing her death warrant. That swinging corpse before the ceremony wasn’t just for show. It was a message, and you’d be a fool not to listen.”

Fish ’n’ Chips ’n’ Finger Fucks

Sinclair

Titus’s words hang heavy in the air. I feel the truth of them settle in the pit of my stomach, like an anchor tying me to this place.

During the ceremony, I was too shocked to do anything. I told myself I just needed to get through it and then I could start planning my escape.

Now, I know that hope was nothing more than what he said.A pipe dream.

My stomach rumbles, breaking the silence. I haven’t eaten since before the ceremony, but I became accustomed to even longer stretches without food at the Doll House.

Ecker’s dark brown-green eyes glance my way, dropping to my stomach. I fight the urge to wrap my arms around my middle to cover myself even though I’m wearing a shirt.

He stands with purpose and claps his hands together. “Burgers. Let’s go.”

“What?” all three of us exclaim at the same time, making him laugh.

His laugh is bright and warm, like his sun-kissed skin and golden hair. It threatens to cut through the tension and the barbs I’ve protectively wrapped around my heart. I won’t let it. They’re there for a reason, and I can’t let them take anymore from me.

Feeling a little suspicious, I ask, “Can we do that? Go out to eat, I mean.”

He lifts his eyebrows and shrugs. “They never said we couldn’t.”

I’m not expecting the strange wave of anxiety I feel when faced with something resembling freedom. I suck in a breath, willing my lungs to inflate.

“Burgers do sound good. I’m fucking starving,” Bishop muses while idly redoing his bun.

Titus pushes off the windowsill and looks at the other two seriously. “But I’m not sharing my fries. If there’s even the smallest chance you want fries, order your own.Got it?”

“Calm down, Tiddles,” Ecker chides with an amused smirk.

Titus rolls his shoulders back and exhales through his flared nostrils like a bull. “Don’t you start with that shit, too.”

“Fish ‘n’ chips,” I blurt out, and all heads turn to me. “Not burgers.”

“Okay . . .” Titus, for some reason, looks confused. Maybe because this is the most normal conversation we’ve ever had. “But don’t start thinking you’re calling the shots around here,Azurite.”Andthere it is.He couldn’t do something remotely nicewithout ruining it by throwing a lineage I don’t even want back in my face.

Captain Cross’s is a small seafood joint that feels like a diner from a small town in the South.

The booths are upholstered with yellow and red vinyl, held together by duct tape in places. Single-leg stools are bolted to the linoleum floor along the long counter, behind which the cooks bustle in greasy, stained white jackets.

I’ve been coming here since I was a kid with my grandma. When Celia would be in a particularly bad way, my grandmother wouldn’t let her see me at home. We would meet here. It was neutral territory with only happy memories.

My grandmother would never tell me ahead of time if my mom would be meeting us. As a child, I thought she just liked surprising us, but now I suspect she just didn’t want me to get my hopes up if Celia didn’t show. Which was probably more often than not.

In all that time, I’ve never seen a single plate. Everything is served in red plastic baskets lined with checkered wax paper. Your only drink options are Coke—absolutelynoPepsi—water or sweet tea. And if you want to see a look that could kill, ask if you can get your tea unsweetened.

It’s perfect. Heaven on earth.

The four of us climb out of the town car. Having a fleet of drivers at our disposal is not a luxury I’m used to. It puts a part of me on edge too. The only time I’ve been in such a nice car was when I was driven from the Doll House to the Estate, and we allknow what happened after that. Plus, the drivers are loyal to the Echelon, their eyes and ears when we’re away from the Estate.

The guys don’t seem as uneasy as I am, but I can tell they aren’t fully comfortable either. It makes me wonder how similar our upbringings might have been.

In the parking lot, Titus leans over the driver’s window. It looks like he tries to give him some cash but the driver refuses, waving him off. Titus catches back up with us and we head into the restaurant.

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