Page 31 of Daisy
In the emptiness, there was no fear. No pain. No rough hands or cruel voices or the sound of someone's neck breaking. There was just... nothing. Perfect, peaceful nothing.
But my body won't let me stay there anymore.
Sensation creeps in slowly. The feeling of movement beneath me—not the gentle sway of being carried, but something mechanical. Rhythmic. The rumble of an engine.
I'm in a vehicle.
The thought cuts through the fog in my head like ice water. My eyes snap open, and immediately I'm hit with sensations that make no sense. The ceiling above me is curved metal. There are windows, but they're blacked out and high up. Everything smells like motor oil and leather and…
Alpha.
The scent hits me like a physical blow, so strong and overwhelming that my lungs seize up. Not just one alpha. Multiple alphas. Four distinct scents layering over each other until I can barely breathe.
But that's not the worst part.
The worst part is that underneath the terror clawing at my throat, some traitorous part of melikestheir scents. My omega instincts recognize something in them that calls to me. Something that whisperssafeandhomeandyours.
Which makes absolutely no sense. Because I'm clearly being kidnapped.
Again.
I try to sit up, and that's when I realize I'm not on a seat. I'm being held against someone's chest, their arms wrapped carefully around me. The scent of honey and clove surrounds me completely, and I'm covered by a jacket that carries the same smell.
The scent should be comforting—it reminds me of the guard from the presentation, the one with ice-blue eyes who looked at me like I mattered.
Instead, it makes panic spike through my chest like lightning.
I scramble backward until my spine hits the wall of the van, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. The movement makes my head swim, but I ignore it. I need to see where I am. I need to understand what's happening.
There are two men in the back of the van with me, and two more in the front seats.
The first one I recognize immediately, even though seeing him here makes no sense at all. My guard. The one who was supposed to protect me at events, who always stood at the edges of rooms watching everything with those careful ice-blue eyes. I always thought there was something gentle underneath hisprofessional exterior, something that made me feel safer when he was nearby.
Except now he looks anything but professional. His uniform is torn and stained with dark patches that could be mud or could be blood. His usually neat short hair is messed up, and there's a cut on his jaw that's still bleeding sluggishly. He's watching me with those same eyes, and there's something in his expression I've never seen before.
Something that looks almost like...pain.
The second man sitting across from us is bigger, with dark auburn hair and amber eyes that seem to see everything. There's something dangerous about him, something that speaks of violence barely contained. His scent is rain before a storm, electric and wild, and it makes my skin prickle with awareness.
In the front, the passenger turns to look at me—long black hair and grey eyes that seem to take in everything about my current state. The driver doesn't turn around, but I can see his green eyes watching me in the rearview mirror, steady and concerned.
Four alphas total, and one of them is supposed to be my guard but clearly isn't anymore because guards don't kidnap the people they're supposed to protect.
My whole body shakes violently. Can't stop it. Can't control anything. Like I'm coming apart at the seams and there's nothing left to hold me together.
"Hey, it's okay," my guard tries, but the moment he speaks, my breathing gets worse. Faster. Shallower.
"Don't," I whisper, voice cracked and broken. "Please don't."
He freezes, and I can see the pain in his expression. But I can't help it. I'm looking at him like he's another monster because right now, even though their scents whispersafeandhome, what I'm seeing terrifies me. My omega instincts are screaming conflicting messages—their scentssaytrust them, but my eyes see four huge alphas who could hurt me, and my traumatized brain can't reconcile the difference.
I can't breathe. The van feels like it's shrinking around me, the walls pressing in closer and closer until there's no air left. The alpha scents are so thick I can taste them on my tongue, and even though some part of me responds to them in ways I don't understand, the panic is stronger. So much stronger.
"We need to get August," the dangerous-looking one across from me says urgently. "Now. She can't breathe with our scents."
"No." My guard's voice comes out harder than he probably intends. "We need to get her out of the city. Your beta can wait."
"Look at her," the first man snaps. "August will calm her. Beta scent."
