Page 27 of Chain Me Knot

My hand inches to the device, measuring the alphas for any movement. But there's none. They sit and watch me, letting me set the pace. My fingers curl around the edge and I pick up the device, sure of the weight now. Okay, if they’re sure they’re letting me touch this, I should know how it works.

The screen shows the front yard, crystal clear in high definition. I swipe the way he showed me, and the view changes to the side of the house. Another swipe shows the backyard from a different angle.

“Every entrance is covered. Every window, every approach,” Soren explains.

I swipe again, finding interior cameras showing the living room, kitchen, hallways. “You have cameras inside the house?” My stomach cramps and my mind is thrown back to the camera James set up in the basement corner out of my cage, the black lens trained on me. The red light blinking. Always blinking.

“In common areas, yes,” Soren clarifies quickly. “Never in bedrooms or bathrooms. Those are private.”

“I’m allowed to go into these rooms?” I ask.

A frown creases his brow. “Of course. Your room is your space. As long as we know where you are, for safety reasons, you’re free to stay there as long as you want. Do anything you want for that matter too.”

Private? They're going to let me have my own space to do with what I want? It sounds too good to be true, and… I don't know what I'd even do. The concept of having preferences, of doing things I might enjoy, is foreign. What would I even do? Read? Watch TV? Stare at the wall? Pack Carmichael didn't exactly stay to play board games once they'd had their style of fun with me.

Iwasthe game.

The enormity of having my own space after years of confinement, crashes over me. The concept should feel like freedom but instead a vast chasm expands inside me. I hate that chains of a different sort still bind me, and how pathetic is that? To be afraid of freedom because captivity has becomeso familiar?

“What am I allowed to want?” I whisper, my fingers white-knuckled around the tablet.

Asher stifles a growl. His face contorts before he turns away, running a hand through his dark hair.

“What about a card game? I can teach you a game or two,” Soren says.

Phoenix snorts, a dimple appearing in his cheek when he smiles. “No betting allowed. Last time we played poker with Soren, Asher and I ended up volunteering at the precinct's community fair dressed as cartoon characters.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“Our bond brother here,” Phoenix jabs a thumb at Soren, who looks suspiciously innocent, “counted cards and cleaned us out. The bet was that losers had to work the dunk tank at the fair.”

“In costume,” Soren adds, the faintest hint of smugness in his voice.

“I was a six-foot-six Pikachu,” Phoenix continues, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Complete with yellow face paint and red cheeks.”

“And I was SpongeBob,” Asher says from the edge of the patio, a ghost of a smile softening his features. “The costume was two sizes too small.”

“The photos are still circulating at the precinct,” Phoenix adds with an exaggerated grimace. “My dignity never recovered.”

The absurd mental image of these massive alphas squeezed into children's character costumes is so unexpected, so bizarrely normal, that I find myself staring at them.

“The truth is you can do what you want. Want to learn something? We'll find someone to teach you if we don’t know. Want some pampering? We'll bring in specialists. Want to read every book ever written or binge terrible reality TV or just sit in the sun and do absolutely nothing? It's all on the table.” Phoenix’s blue eyes hold mine, no trace of alpha command in them, just earnest conviction. “Your wants aren't privileges to be granted or denied. They're just... yours. Your right. Your choice.”

Alphas don't exactly have a great track record of standing by their word in my experience. I stare down at the tablet in my hands, not brave enough to meet theireyes as I continue. “Nice words are like butter on stale bread. Looks pretty, tastes better than nothing, but doesn't fill your stomach. And I've had my fill of pretty lies that leave me starving.”

And what is it with these alphas that make me forget every survival instinct I honed to perfection?

“Fair enough. Words are cheap. We'll show you instead, and keep showing you until you know it’s absolute truth,” Phoenix says.

Asher clears his throat. “For what it's worth. I understand why you don't believe us. I wouldn't either, in your position.”

His honesty is more unsettling than any anger would have been. Because anger I understand. Anger I know how to navigate. This... whatever this is... I have no map for. I don’t have the bandwidth to think about what they’ve told me and I let it slide. Asher is right, actions are louder than words and I’m no innocent omega in her first heat blush. I know the exact brand of hell alphas are capable of. I’ll watch. Listen. Learn. But one thing I won’t be, is surprised when they do exactly what I knew they would do all along.

Thankfully I’m also a broken omega.

The no-heat, no-fun kind.

I can’t be used likethatanymore.

---