Page 5 of The Omega Trials: Part Three

“I thought my debt was paid!” Turns out, she also has her daughter’s quick fuse. “And I didn’tplay dead.Bastard thought he actually killed me.” She huffs and crosses her arms.

I turn my head to look at her, and her glare is so chillingly similar to Sin’s, it’s hard to believe this isn’t the woman who raised her.

“You really didn’t know?” I ask skeptically. From what Sinclair’s told me, her mother didn’t—doesn’t?—have a maternal bone in her body, so I’m not inclined to believe her claim she would have come running back to save her daughter. Granted, leaving your kid with a sadistic trafficker is far from missing a birthday.

“I know my word means nothing to you, but I swear I didn’t.” Her remorse sounds genuine. “I thought—”

The door bursts open, nearly clipping her shoulder, and she jerks out of the way. A bleary-eyed Titus hangs in the doorway,hand still clutching the door handle. I don’t know how long he was holding Sinclair, but putting himself through that alpha aversion has him looking like he went nine rounds with a bear hyped up on PCP after not sleeping for three days.

“He’s done,” he says, lightly out of breath like he ran to tell us.

My heart jumps. “And?”

The most uncommon smile turns the corner of his lips. “And she’s out of the woods.”

“Oh, thank god.” Celia exhales heartily and clutches her chest.

I shake my head at him in disbelief and exclaim, high with relief at the impossible, “I could just kiss you!”

“Don’t even think—”

“Too bad, brother.” I laugh and grab his face, pressing a loud and exaggerated kiss to his cheek. I pull away when his phone begins vibrating in his pocket.

“It’s Griffin,” he says, reading the incoming call.

“Answer it,” I encourage with a rush of nerves. Before we left, Bishop asked the Beryll alpha to keep us updated on any news regarding the Cyan’s death. Titus answers and holds it to his ear. I nudge him “Speaker, speaker.”

“Hey, it’s Titus and Ecker,” Titus says.

“It was suicide,” Griffin informs us through speakerphone. “He hung himself.”

Chapter 4

Toy Cars

Bishop

Her hand is cold when I take it and place it in my lap while I drive. I wish I could keep her warm all the time. I ache to care for her in even the smallest ways. Maybe it’s because there are so many threats outside of my control that something as small as keeping her hands warm seems the least I can do.1

We pull into the pothole-riddled parking lot with faded white lines. Her brows pinch together as she looks at the wide double doors boarded up. “Is this a school?”

“Yeah.” I add with a small smile. “Or a hospital depending on who you ask.”

We climb out of the car, and I lead us to a hole in the wire fence that gives us access to the abandoned campus. The outdoor corridors feel so small compared to the last time I was here. I was seven years old and being sent to the principal’s office for something Ecker did. Our parents took us out of school that day, worried our tendency for troublemaking would lead to someone discovering our true identities. The school shut down the following year, and it’s sat like a graveyard of childhood memories since.

“She’s really going to be okay?” Sinclair asks me before we enter the science classroom. There’s a vulnerable hope to her tone that makes my chest tight, like she’s scared to let herself feel hopeful and she’s looking to me to let her down easy.

“Doc doesn’t sugarcoat,” I assure her. “If he says she’s going to be okay, she will be.”

“Okay.” Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile, then she lifts on her tiptoes to place a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you.” My chest warms in response.

“Ready?” I ask, my hand on the doorknob.

She nods and a crackle of excited anticipation flits through our bond. Then I open the door.

Now that Sinclair and our pack have been cleared in Eric’s death, we can head back to the Estate, though I’m still on high alert. I’m not surprised the Elders jumped to judgment and retribution, but to go from attempted murder, demanding an eye for an eye, to “just kidding, it was suicide” . . . I can’t help but feel we will be walking into a trap.

Trap or no, there’s one stop I want to make on the way.

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