Page 3 of One Way Out

No, I don’t think I could.

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had to go back and explain to Omen that I could have saved his best friend…only, I didn’t because I chickened out. “Open the door.”

The British alpha stares down at me for so long that I start to squirm. He must have broken protocol to bring me here, and he did it for a reason. If he truly believed Valor would kill me, I don’t think he would risk it.

Leo and Shaw mentioned that he’s undercover. Having one of the omegas die on his watch while being on a completely different floor from where I’m supposed to be would be majorly conspicuous.

If nothing else, I trust that he doesn’t want to risk blowing his cover.

“Go on, open it,” I say again, hopefully firmer this time.

McCabe finally sighs, spinning around and slamming his key card into the back of the door handle. The device reminds me a little of the ones on a hotel door or like the ones we use to get into our dorms at my school.

The door creaks as he pulls it open.

A whoosh of cold air hits me in the face. My nose wrinkles, and I try to determine what that metallic smell is.

I stumble back a step, my eyes widening as it clicks.

It’s blood.

What I’m smelling is blood.

Oh, shit.

That feels like a very bad sign.

“Back to torture us again, McCall?” The deep Scottish voice belongs to Conrad, the massive red-haired man who helped Valor on the court when he was being attacked by all of those men.

Did he get McCabe’s name wrong?

How would he know his name in the first place?

The guards never share that information with the rest of us. Leo and Shaw only found out because he helped them get into the facility. Maybe he has all sorts of deals going on with different prisoners? It would be a solid way to keep us all indebted to him.

McCabe—who might be McCall—grabs my arm, dragging me into the dimly lit room. The wall just inside the door is lined with a wooden bench. Circular rings dot the floor just in front of it at a width of about two feet apart. I think they might be used for shackling the prisoners.

“Nah, right back out with you, lass,” Conrad growls, drawing my attention to the far wall. He points through the bars on the cell he’s trapped in. “Take her right the fuck back the way you came!”

Three large cells take up the opposite side of the room. They have brick walls that separate them, but the front of each is covered in thick metal bars.

Conrad is on the left.

At first, I think the cell in the middle is empty…until I spot the crumpled heaps lining the floor.

There are at least two dead bodies.

Maybe three.

It’s impossible to tell with how hazy my vision gets.

The dark pools that line the floor around them are definitely made up of the blood I’ve been smelling.

“I always knew you to be an opportunistic prick, but this? You’ve got to be taking the piss.” Conrad glares over my shoulder, speaking to McCabe. “Take her back to Omen!” he barks, and I whimper, stumbling backward.

A low, feral growl radiates around the room. It comes from the third cell—the one I can’t see into from this angle—and it echoes through my body, making my knees weak.

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll shoot you in the face,” McCabe says drolly. “How about that? It’s the only way to find any quiet when you’re around, but last I checked, you’re not in charge here.” His hand on my shoulder tightens, and he gives me a shove toward the third cell. “He’s this way. No sudden movements, Saylor.” It’s strange hearing him use my name, but he called my father like he said he would, so he obviously knows who I am.

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