Page 124 of Unhinged Omega

"And Raven isn't?"

The question catches me off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Ryefield says quickly. Too quickly. "I'll grab my supplies and head down."

The radio goes silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts again. I turn back to the security feeds, watching as Ryefield makes his way through the tunnels toward the secure area. The doctor's words nag at me, stirring up doubts I've been trying to ignore.

Keeping them both down there is risky.

Especially given their history.

A history I still don't fully understand and will never grasp in its entirety, despite years of drunken half-confessions and stories from Raven. Stories that always seemed to stop just short of the full truth, trailing off into silence or deflected with a joke. Stories I'd rather not hear, so I'm sure that means I've tuned out plenty of the more important details.

But what choice do I have?

I can't let Raven run off to his death chasing some omega fantasy. And I can't kill Nikolai, not when it would break something in Raven that might never heal. The look in his eyes when he begged me to spare that bastard's life... I've never seen him like that before.

Never seen him so desperate.

So broken.

He's damn good at escaping and thwarting me, which is why he's safer in there. Where I can watch his every move, even if he somehow manages to find a way to get through the door. I wouldn't be surprised if he's the one person who can pull that off.

After all, he learned all his tricks from Nikolai Vlakov himself.

Movement on one of the screens catches my attention. Raven has finally stirred, lifting his head to stare directly at the camera. Even through the grainy black and white footage, I feel the burning weight of his gaze. Those eyes that usually sparkle with mischief and mirth are dull now, empty in a way that makes my stomach churn.

He knows I'm watching.

He can feel it.

Something uncomfortably close to regret gnaws at my conscience. The lost, broken look in his eyes when I collared him... it wasn't just betrayal. It was something deeper.

Something that spoke of old wounds being torn open.

I remember the first time I discovered how much like an omega he is, even in regard to how he reacts to alpha barks. I’d sworn then and there never to use that power over him. Never to be another alpha who took advantage of his unique vulnerability.

And yet here I am, keeping him chained up "for his own good."

How is that any better than using my bark on him? Am I any better than the son of a bitch chained on the opposite wall?

But I push the feeling aside.

Sometimes being cruel is the only way to be kind.

I've learned that lesson the hard way, watching too many people I cared about die because I wasn't willing to do what needed to be done. Because I let sentiment cloud my judgment.

Not this time.

The radio crackles to life again. "I'm at the security door," Ryefield announces.

I key in the access code, watching on the monitors as the heavy metal door slides open with a hiss. Ryefield steps through, medical bag in hand. He pauses at the top of the stairs, taking in the scene below.

"Shit," he mutters, just loud enough for the radio to pick up.

I watch as he makes his way down the steps, his footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. He approaches Nikolai first, which is smart. The bastard's wounds need immediate attention if we want to keep him alive for questioning.

And oh, do I have questions.

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