Page 23 of The Omega Trials: Part Three

It feels like this sunset has lasted forever. There’s nothing I can do to calm the pounding of my heart while I wait for nightfall.

I cannot fathom the punishment if I am caught. My only option is to succeed.

“They helped her?” I gape at the page, feeling like my world has turned upside down. “He knew what they were risking.”

“And he did it anyway,” Sinclair says quietly, like she, too, isn’t sure what to make of this new information. “We were never enemies.”

Bishop exhales. “We were allies.”

Entry #7

Dear daughter,

We made it. I’m writing this at a hostel just outside city limits. I haven’t felt you move since we got here. I hope it’s because you know you are finally safe. You can rest now, little one.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring or the next day or the day after that. But I hope that by the time you are born, we are no longer on the run. I pray we find a safe place where you can grow up without the shackles that tried to keep me bound.

I do not expect a perfect life for you. I know hardships will be a part of wherever life takes you. My only wish is that losing your freedom is never one of them.

There are dozens of pages left in this notebook, but I think it’s best I end it here. For I’m no longer Omega Azurite. I’m Guinevere Ash and her story has only just begun.

Chapter 13

Midnight Snack

Ecker

Iturn over for what feels like the dozenth time. My head flops onto the pillow with defeat. It’s been hours since we went to bed, and even longer since we discovered Grandma Azurite’s diary. Between Fortitude Trial flashbacks and replaying what we learned in the journal, my mind hasn’t stopped racing for a second.

Apparently, I’m not the only one being kept up by my racing thoughts.

“Can’t sleep?” Sinclair whispers, Bishop asleep on the other side of her.

“Yeah.” I sigh.

“Okay, c’mon.” She kisses my shoulder then nudges me.

I slide out of bed. She tries to scoot off after me, and Bishop wraps his arms tighter around her in his sleep. Pursing her lips with an amused smile, she tries to carefully loosen his grip.

He mutters sleepily, “Where are you going?”

“Midnight snack.” She brushes her lips against his knuckles before fully untwining his arms from around her.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles and rolls over.

Sinclair tiptoes across the floor to her dresser. She pulls out a tee shirt dress and a pair of underwear while I search for my boxers among a heaping pile of discarded clothes from all four of us. Once I find them, we sneak out quietly, leaving Titus and Bishop in bed.

“So, midnight snack, huh?” I throw my arm around her shoulders.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, leaning into me.

We make our way through the dark, quiet halls to the dining hall and adjoining kitchen. I didn’t check before we left, but if I had to guess, it’s between two and three a.m. Too early for even the breakfast staff to be here yet.

“Let’s see what’s on the menu.” Sinclair practically skips to the giant commercial fridge.1

“Does this look like pancake mix to you?” She points to ahugecontainer of what indeed looks a lot like pancake batter. “They probably won’t notice if a little’s missing.”

She goes to pull it out, and I run up behind her to help. I cover her hands with mine and drag it off the shelf. The entire thing probably weighs close to thirty pounds. We waddle in this standing spoon position to the stainless-steel counter.

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