Page 5 of One Way Out

“Well, now, that makes for an intriguing image,” Omen says with an obnoxious lilt to his voice. “Go on, don’t stop on my account.”

“Why are you fucking with me?” Shaw snaps back, struggling against my hold. “We should be teaming up to get information out of that asshole.”

“I’m starting to think this place really does encourage the rot,” I grumble. “If you hurt him, Saylor won’t forgive you. It’s that simple.”

“I know she was coerced out by that fucker, but I’m not sureI’llforgiveherfor following him so easily,” Omen says, swiping at his lower lip.

Shaw goes stiff. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Put on some pants,” I growl, shoving Shaw against the mattress once more. “We all need to talk.”

“And I was just daydreaming of all the ways your little tryst could end.” Omen sighs. “Forgive me. My sense of humor grows darker when I’m anxious. I agree. The three of us need to get on the same page.”

* * *

Shaw finds his pants while I put away the pull-out bed and throw the blankets and pillows into the loft I slept in. It’s technically Omen’s bed, based on the smell, but he doesn’t say a word as I place myself down on one end of the couch and nod for him to take the other.

Shaw grabs the chair he smacked Omen with and sets it a few feet away. Instead of sitting as I would, he spins it and sits with the back of the chair to his chest. It gives him somewhere to rest his crossed arms. His body language, along with the glare on his face, ensures he’s not pleased with me.

“Leo.” I point at my chest, twisting to sit at an angle to make it easier to see both men. I throw a thumb toward Shaw. “That’s my partner, Shaw.”

“What the hell is going on?” Shaw growls. His foot bounces against the floor, betraying his anxiety and possibly his fury.

“You saw more than I did about what went down when Valor lost it. You were already on the court when Saylor and I made it out.” Omen sighs heavily, swiping a hand over his face. “I heard about it while we were in the hole—not from him. They sedated V on the court, but he didn’t snap out of the rage like usual.” His shoulders bounce with how forcefully he shrugs. “They didn’t place us together. I was with Conrad.” He glances between us, like the name might be cause for recognition. When he finds none, he goes on. “I believe they were purposely goading him by putting him with several of the men he was fighting before they tranqed us. Again, I couldn’t see it since the cell walls are cinder block, but he?—”

“He what?” Shaw snaps.

“Beat them to death upon waking up,” Omen says with an eerily calm delivery. “Based on the sounds alone, I believe he broke at least one of their necks. That was maybe six hours ago. It’s hard to tell time in a room with no windows. They eventually tranqed him again with double the dose and dragged him to another cell, but even with the additional medication, it never put him out completely.” He lifts his wrist, showing us the white canine marks that signal a claiming bite. “I attempted to reach him by yelling across the room and through the bond.” His white-blond hair falls into his eyes as his head shakes. “It’s like nothing I’ve felt in the time we’ve been bonded. All that comes through the connection is a simmering rage. No stream of consciousness. No lucidity. No rational thoughts. Just…nothing. It’s as if he’s not there at all.” His tone is hollow and defeated in a way that makes my stomach ache. I can’t imagine being in a similar situation with Shaw.

I catch Omen’s gaze and try to give him an apologetic look, but I don’t even know what that would look like, so there’s no way to be sure if I accomplish it. “I’m sorry to hear about your partner. Can you tell us how you made it back here, and what happened to Saylor?”

Omen’s jaw clenches as he gives a clipped nod. “Several of the guards came in. The British one who’s fond of Saylor?—”

“McCabe,” Shaw growls.

“Possibly,” Omen agrees. “He pulled me from the cell while two others grabbed their own prisoners. We didn’t follow them up, so maybe they took them to a new block? Honestly, I’ve no idea.”

“Get to the point,” Shaw hisses.

“He’s trying!” I bark, jabbing a finger in his direction. Jesus Christ, he’s on my last nerve. “Quit being a dick and let him speak!”

Shaw growls, baring his teeth.

Omen ignores us and goes on. “McCabe pulled me aside on the way up to tell me they called Amato. Apparently, he agreed to cut his losses. I don’t fucking know. That’s very hard for me to believe, but the British asshole told me they’re going to euthanize Valor this morning unless he can be brought back before that.”

The chair Shaw has been sitting in goes flying as he pushes himself to his feet.

My jaw falls, but my mind races. “He’s going to put Saylor in a cell with a fully rabid alpha and see what happens?”

“I told her not to do it.” Omen’s already pale face loses even more color. “The bond is enough for me to know he’s not safe to be around. I don’t know what that guard is up to, but I don’t trust him.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Shaw paces back and forth, but my eyes don’t leave the beta.

“You know the consequences of losing a bond,” I say, and it’s not a question.

He has to.

Everyone does.

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