Page 71 of One Way Out

Iwake up alone andseriouslypissed off about that. Peeling my face off the pillow I was drooling on, I grab the blanket and climb off the bed.

It’s a whole ordeal.

I trip over the edge of the material as I try to stand and end up spending more than a minute fighting with the blanket to get it securely wrapped around me like a toga.

The mirror above the ancient vanity isn’t kind when I do a quick appearance check. My hair is stuck to my cheek, either with sweat or possibly bodily fluid—whose bodily fluid is anyone’s guess. Peeling my hair off my skin, I tuck it behind my ear.

I really wish I had a hair tie.

Humor and amusement fill the bond, and no matter how hard I try to pick out who it’s coming from… I can’t.

It’s just an overwhelming feeling of happiness and ease. I hope that means they got good news, although my brain isn’t working well enough to guess what kind of news that could be.

Maybe they got the passports for Valor and Omen?

I stagger toward the door, rubbing my eyes and trying to figure out what day it is. I can’t remember if Valor ever joined me in bed after returning from the store.

It’s all hazy and foggy, but I don’t think he did, and that makes me angry all over again.

He was supposed to come find me.

He told me he would before he left. More than anything, I just need to know that he’s okay.

And borrow some of his scent.

I’m saturated in pheromones and semen from the other three, but one important piece of the puzzle is missing.

Making it into the hallway, I swerve my way to the stairs and down them. Getting to the first floor without breaking my neck is a whole endeavor. Once I hit the bottom step, I follow the bond and the laughter.

I come around the corner to the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks. My shoulder leans against the hall, both for support and to keep myself hidden.

Shaw is busy telling an animated story about a fire ant nest? Or fire ants in his nest?

That makes no sense.

He’s not an omega.

It doesn’t matter what the story is about. My heart flutters wildly watching my four bonded mates stand around the kitchen, chatting and laughing.

Valor leans against the countertop, pulling a bottle of beer to his thick lips. He still looks like hell from the fight he got into before being put in lockdown. Some of those wounds might be from the damage he did to the guys they put him with in the hole.

A shiver runs down my spine.

McCabe said to forget about the facility as soon as I was free, but I’m not sure how anyone could do that. There are still people locked in there at this very minute.

Maggie.

Conrad.

Elyse.

And a whole lot of others on A block alone.

Every fiber of my being wants to make whoever runs that place pay, but I can also understand that my pack can’t be the ones to do it. We don’t know how many locations there are or who runs it. McCabe said very powerful men keep it in business, and I have no trouble believing that’s true. Hopefully, whatever his mission was, McCabe managed to complete it.

I still don’t know if he’s a good guy. I imagine he’s a lot like my men. They live in the gray and do illegal things, but they’re also not evil.

At least, not at their core.

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