Page 114 of Bonds of Hate

I freeze, staring at him. “Meaning what?”

“You want the Omega so badly? Then claim her for yourself.”

The elevator doors open and Cillian doesn’t wait for my response from me as he strides away.

I stalk after Cillian, my blood boiling at his suggestion. The very idea of betraying Logan like that makes my skin crawl, even if Maya is appealing enough that the idea stays rooted in my mind.

We round the corner to find Logan directing a team of workers who are clearing debris from one of the damaged corridors. Dust and sweat mars his usual perfect appearance, sleeves rolled up as he points out weak spots in the ceiling to a structural engineer.

“About time,” Logan snaps when he spots us. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Watching over Maya,” I reply, crossing my arms. “You know, the Omega who was nearly kidnapped last night?”

Logan’s jaw tightens. “She’s fine now. I need you here.”

“She’s not fine. She was terrified and babbling about some doctor before she passed out.”

“A doctor?” Cillian’s head snaps up, suddenly interested.

“Yeah, she kept sayingthe doctor is hereor somethingbefore she fell asleep.” I frown at Cillian’s intense expression. “Why?”

“Did she say anything else?” Logan demands, waving away the engineer.

“No, she was pretty out of it.” I look between their tense faces. “What am I missing?”

Logan ignores my question. “I need you to coordinate with palace security. We’re instituting new protocols, and I want you to oversee the training.”

“But Maya?—”

“Is no longer your concern.” Logan’s voice carries that edge of Alpha command that makes my spine straighten automatically. “Focus on your actual duties.”

“Sure, boss.” I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to argue. The memory of Maya’s trembling form in my arms makes my chest ache.“Whatever you say.”

Pack hierarchy is pack hierarchy.

Just until it isn’t anymore.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

MAYA

Ijolt awake, my heart hammering against my ribs as I feel the familiar bite of restraints around my wrists and ankles. Nylon straps chafe against my skin, rather than the cold metal that is more common in my memory. The clinical smell of antiseptic fills my nostrils.

My eyes snap open and lock onto a scalpel glinting in the dim light. The blade hovers inches from my face, making my muscles tense in anticipation of that so familiar pain.

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. The rescue was real. I remember Poe finding me…carrying me. I remember being enveloped in Ares’s scent, cradled by soft cotton.

This can’t be real…

“Stay still,” Poe stares down at me with an expressionless face. “One wrong move and I might accidentally slip.”

I feel a surge of relief at the sound of his voice. But that relief is immediately followed by icy fingers of dread tipping up my spine when I realize I didn’t imagine the fact that I’m tied down.

I also wasn’t imagining the scalpel in his hand.

“Poe…what are you doing?”

“Talking is almost as dangerous as moving,” he replies, dark eyes narrowed in concentration. He holds up an empty syringe between two fingers. “I’ve already given you the anesthetic, but I can’t promise this will remain pain free if you keep distracting me.”

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