Page 47 of One Way Out

“Yeah, I’d say he’s shit a golden brick or two over the last twelve hours,” Ridge says, pulling out onto a small road in a rundown town. “This contract is giving him premature gray hair.” He chuckles darkly. “He’ll probably forgive you once we handle taking possession of the omega. I let him get a good deal of his ranting and raving out, but one of you should call him once we get back to the safe house.”

“Saylor bonded an inmate,” Shaw says, carefully avoiding mentioning that occurredafterwe were reunited. “We had no choice but to change our plans. The facility doesn’t allow bonding to occur between one omega and alphas from more than one benefactor.”

“Yeah,” Ridge says, turning onto a much larger, equally dark road. “That sucks for you guys. So, are you going to rescue her and call it a day?”

“Fuck no,” Shaw growls.

At the same time, I say, “Not a chance. We also need to secure passports for the two men that she’ll be with before we can leave for the States.”

“They flushed her suppressants,” Shaw adds. “She’s been sick as fuck since we found her. We might need to hunker down until she can ride out her heat.”

“It’s always something.” Ridge sighs. “Whatever. I’ll let you pass on that news. I’m not getting stuck on another call, listening to East rant and rave for hours.”

“We don’t have time for that, anyway,” Shaw growls. “We have to plan a hot takedown in an unfamiliar country with only the three of us, no backup, and whatever weapons you’ve managed to secure since crossing the border.”

“Like I said, it’s always motherfucking something,” Ridge says with a snort.

ChapterSixteen

Saylor

I’m not sure if it’s stress or ramifications from stopping the suppressants, but I’m sicker than I’ve been yet. More than likely, it’s a combination of the two, but no matter how hard I try to trick my system into believing everything will be fine, I just can’t seem to force away the spiraling thoughts.

It’s the longest day on lockdown yet. They served breakfast and lunch, but I can’t keep anything down to the point of dry heaving when I run out of stomach acid to vomit up. My fever hovers concerningly high, and knotting is off the table to help bring it down.

I’m in the middle of an autistic meltdown, and I know I’m not acting rationally. Normally, I want cuddles and comfort, but my skin itches, and I feel like I’m suffocating when they touch me.

It makes me feel guilty. They’ve done nothing wrong, and I still can’t self-regulate well enough to act like a normal human being. I hate it. If I could choose how to react, it wouldn’t play out like this.

Omen’s and Valor’s concern is evident, and they still honor my request to let me rest alone until it passes.

I have so many regrets. I’m not sure what I could have done differently, but it’s clear I made mistakes.

I should have pushed harder for Leo and Shaw to bite me.

All the concerns about how we’ll get them out of here are piling up, and they’re so overwhelming that I give in to the misery and let myself cry it out.

* * *

Instead of dinner, we get a rude wake-up call.

The guards drag us from the cell with no notice—only letting me stop to pull on sweats and my terrible tennis shoes. They’re much more aggressive with Valor and Omen than they are with me, but I’m nauseated to the point I have to focus on not puking on the floor.

My terror only ratchets higher as they lead us out into what looks like a hangar or garage. They have Omen’s and Valor’s hands cuffed behind their backs, and I stumble a step as they pull black bags over their heads.

“No, please,” I beg, shaking my head and trying to yank my arm away from the guard who holds my wrist. “I’m still sick from the suppressants. I will panic and puke. I’m already running a fever.”

“I’m sure Amato will reap the rewards of an omega on the verge of going into heat,” the guard says in a thick accent. His hold on my wrist tightens almost painfully, and terror rips through my system.

That is not happening.

I’ll find a weapon and end Amato myself before I allow that to happen.

“Enough,” McCabe says, striding closer. The other guards have their helmets on, but he’s in a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “I’ll prepare the omega for transport. See where you can help out with the others.”

The guard at my side bristles but releases me.

McCabe grabs my arm, dragging me closer to the wall. “Hands in front. I’m not going to cuff you behind your back.” My hands fly into position, and I try to think through what I can say to appeal to him to help get Leo and Shaw out of here. “There is no way they’ll let you out of here without being blindfolded, but I’ll ask them not to put the hood over your head.”

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