Chapter Text
Numbers don’t lie. They don't have ulterior motives. They simply were what they showed. Simple. Dependable. Easy to keep track of both digital and physical.
Even now, you could see them in your mind, getting smaller as the shrill noise counting down sounded periodically from the device that seemed far too tight as it clutched your throat. They were mocking in their finality. Calm, patient. Confident in their proclamation, contrasting the rapid beat of your own pulse. Opposite of the man who was examining the device who had instead grim determination that pulled at his brows.
It was almost funny to think about what had happened to get here. The series of events that was your life, one sweep of the legs and each sequential kick to the gut as heels dug in to keep you pinned, all culminating into one final shitty situation. It was more of a surprise that it had taken things this long to get bad. It might be appropriate to summon every curse and swear you knew of if your mind wasn’t preoccupied in trying to get some semblance of bearings in the maze of metal around you.
The shipping containers rose high above, their bright colors muted by the sun’s bleaching rays. It was impossible to catch the scratched and faded letters and numbers stenciled on the sides, their only use in reflecting the echoes of your panicked steps, and that of the pursuers heavier movements. Longer legs didn’t need to take as many steps to catch up. There was no need for him to be careful, to think about every sound he made. Instead his thoughts were undoubtedly focused in pursuit of a single target.
You.
There was no chance to look back and survey whatever distance remained between you, spanning from feet to inches. The moment you stopped it would be over. Dragged back to the sweltering confines of the claustrophobic container identical to the ones now looming high all around, preventing escape like silent metal sentries. Or maybe he had worse plans. Nik had never been the most patient of Betas, his scent somehow burning even more pungently each time he entered the small space they had kept you all. It was as if even his scent was antagonizing, each fiber of his being staining the world with his displeasure. It was ingrained in your memory from the very night that they took you and the others. It had remained an almost constant haunting presence marking the beginning of a new horror, picking up from the previous like a never ending cycle of nightmares.
It was hard to say which was worse, though at least with Nik he didn’t bother to even hide his scent or mask his emotions. He wanted you to know how much enjoyment he took from the suffering around him, living on the scent of fear and anxiety like a dog rolling in whatever mess it found. An alternative, though no better, to the oppressive scent of the ‘camp counselors’ who ran your previous prison. All Alphas who liked to flaunt their status and scent, acting as if they were doing something so important that it justified anything they deemed fit to do. The protectors of society they had called themselves. Leading wayward Omegas to their rightful place and making them productive members of society. Breaking them down until there was nothing left and they could be molded in whichever way that those with more power saw fit.
It was hard to feel bad when you saw their bodies, left to the mercy of the ravens and coyotes that constantly circled the camp, though it raised concerns for what was to become of you and the other Omegas that the militant group had taken. At the camp you knew what to expect, could predict their actions and reactions, developing a routine to their abuse in a way that allowed a mental fortification to be built. Instead these men kept you in near darkness almost constantly, only coming in to deliver food and water, as well as the once a day bathroom break in which you would be blindfolded and led out to relieve yourself.
It would have been more embarrassing if their jeers and laughs hadn’t been drowned out with other thoughts. Ones far more important than those who watched while your own eyes were left covered. Instead you were focused on memorising the path in which you traveled each time they took you out. Each turn and slope, listening to the way their voices echoed and getting a mental layout of how the direct area was situated. Committing it to memory to the point you were able to scratch a rough estimate of the paths you and the others had managed to glance through the gaps of the fabric in your blindfolds.
A path that would lead to freedom. Or at least you hoped it would.
The only certainty you had now was that you couldn’t stay here. Especially not with how antsy it seemed your current captors were, the anxiety in their scents mixing with that of their captives each time they entered, barking orders and getting physical when they weren’t followed quick enough. It sickened you to watch them shove the others around, biting your tongue until it bled as you were forced to do nothing, knowing it would do no good and only complicate things down the line. It was time to lay low and see what you could find, complacent until it was time to act. Any shred of evidence of information that could help you and the others get out was carefully filed away, waiting for the best opportunity to strike.
The guards wouldn't see it coming. They, much like the rest of the world, had deluded themselves into believing that no Omega would ever commit such acts of aggression. Something you promoted the others to fortify in the minds of your captors, to make the thought of an escape never even cross their minds. To take every strike that stung your flesh, to grit your teeth instead of bearing them each time they came far too close for your liking. To silently comfort the others as they wept at night, tears streaking your skin and leaving trails in the grime covered flesh, leaving trails in your own chest as if they had struck with claws and teeth. They would be lulled into a sense of security by their own status-driven ego, then you would strike.
It reminded you of when you and the others would stay awake at camp, bellies growling when rations were taken away for ‘bad behaviour’ while you stared at the stars above and huddled together for warmth. Like sardines packed in a can, seeking any ounce of comfort in each other you could find before you were devoured. All the while the counselors stayed warm and dry in their tent, the fire burning inside casting distorted shadows across the fabric like ghouls as the scent of warm food drifted out. Meat seasoned to perfection, paired with fruit that would have your tastebuds singing with their sweetness. Your mouth pooled at the smells, chewing on leaves and bitter berries as you imagined them to be a feast of your own, resentment fueled by the burning pit of hunger.
They thought it would break you down, but it only made you all the more determined to resist their thinly veiled threats, unswayed by their promise of comfort and warmth. It was at night when they laid in their own blissful ignorance that you would make similar plans to escape, even if they were just dreams. There would be nowhere to go even if you did escape, but it didn’t stop you from spinning your own tales to each other. You would take turns telling stories of being able to run away and live peaceful lives in the hundreds of miles of undeveloped forest that you found yourself in, a commune of Omegas living peacefully.
But like all well thought out plans, something always happens to throw them off, the universe intent on making everything as difficult as possible. It would dangle a shred of hope just to yank it away at the last minute and you would follow blindly like a cat after a string, amusing your owner with the futile efforts until they decided you struggled enough to deserve a reward.
It was just after the morning check in that you heard it, ears pricked up, straining to catch more than a few stray words as footsteps rushed by. They were shouting, words quick and sharp. Not the normal jovial calls between the men as they joked and relay orders, but urgent shouts that strained the vocal cords, panicked as they rushed by. These were interrupted by small, sharp cracks you had only ever heard in movies.
Gunfire.
Your eyes found Shay’s, the person you had grown closest to. Another Omega with a rebellious spark to match your own whose quick wit and sharp eyes would have made him a great investigator if given the opportunity. Skills that had proven useful in your efforts here, comparing notes at night of whatever you had learned or thought of. You had been close before during the time at the camp, huddling together and sharing meals even as the counselors tried to discourage the formation of any bonds. He had been the buoy you clung to ever since this storm started, keeping you from completely drowning in the sea of despair that seemed to constantly tug with suffocating hands, and the same remains true now.
From a single look you could tell what he was thinking, nodding and moving in tandem as he went to get the others ready. Your hands found the collar securely attached around your neck, nervously scratching at the metal that was just as restricting as the scent collars that had found their way into recent fashion. Your captors made no efforts to make these anything but uncomfortable however, and you would call the metal bands and exposed wires anything but fashionable. Your fingers skirted around the wires, careful not to pull anything out of place by accident. It might be going off soon enough anyways.
As you kept watch, eyes never leaving the doors, Shay returned, crouching next to your own form. His hand found your own, pulling it away from the device as his fingers gently rubbed over your scent gland in an attempt to sooth the raging nerves. Despite his even gaze you could feel the way his hands trembled around your own, their grip tight as you ground one another.
“We’ll wait three minutes before going. Don’t get caught before then.” His voice was hushed, face twitching as his ears strained to pick up any movement. “Double back around to the meeting point and we’ll be ready to take him out.”
Nodding, you nervously stretch out a leg, preparing the neglected muscles for use they hadn’t seen in months. The scent of anxious Omegas was thicker now, a new spark lit in the occupants of the crate making your head spin with how thick it laid. They all knew what was happening. It had been planned for weeks now, every detail agonized over, yet it didn’t stop the way their eyes watched with guilt as you took the most important job. The most dangerous. They could still get away if you were caught, still reach freedom and help, but you would be left behind. Your success was only in being a distraction. Everything else was just a bonus. But you were the one with the least to go back to. Expendable in comparison to the others even if they didn’t use the term. Yet you would do anything for them. In your time together you had become an unofficial pack, bound in every way but legal. Bonds formed stronger than any glue, being part of a pack meant being able to rely on one another, and this was your part to play.
Shay came back around from checking in with the others, his face stern, lacking the normal softness it held until now, replaced with a haunting shadow. He was just as nervous even if he wouldn’t admit it, the scent of burnt leaves stinging his normal evergreen scent. Hands found your shoulders, pulling you close to scent one another, a weak attempt to sooth nerves. Air tickled skin as he took a deep breath in while you did the same, knowing very well it could be the last time. For a moment it was just you, nothing outside mattered. A bubble of peace, blissfully oblivious to everything outside of it as you held one another.
“I’ll make sure they get out. Just focus on yourself.”
Your eyes stung, aching for a release of the pressure that gathered behind them and you resisted the want to wrap yourself around him and never let go. It was as if a weight had settled itself in your chest, making a home as it dug sharp spines into every crevice and refused to move. Pounding steps closed your parted lips, drawing the attention of everyone as they grew closer. The sound of metal protesting its quick movement, the blinding light of the sun flooding the dark space as they stepped inside.
It was time.
Moving into position you knew what would happen, could practically imagine the entire thing in your mind already. When the door opened you already knew what to do, just as you had imagined a hundred times before now, the steps traced over again and again even in your dreams. Never before had it ended well.
“Listen up, you’re all going to-”
You pushed past Nik, shoving him with as much force as you could muster, shoulders squared and set. It was only surprise that allowed you to knock the large man off balance, taking his companion down with him. There were only two. Only ever two. Nik and some other he decided to drag with him. No more needed to control a group of ten Omegas. Their confidence, while annoying, worked in your favor. Curses flowed from him freely, quickly quieting as you tore to the closest gap between containers. More shouting, before another set of steps joined, heavier but no slower. The few moments would be the only headstart you had, mere milliseconds gained with every tight corner you took, each object thrown behind you to block the path.
It was impossible to keep time as you ran, so there was no way to tell when your lungs started burning, legs crying in protest at the sudden extended use after weeks of walking little more than a few dozen yards. There was no time to stop, no time to take a break even as you felt something cut into the arch of your foot, causing you to stumble for just a moment. Shoes had been taken away a long time ago to try and dissuade exactly this type of behaviour by your previous overseers. If you made it out there would be a round of shots to get, tetanus being at the top of the list.
By this time the others would have had time to get the keys from the other guard, overwhelmed by numbers left behind as the group of docile Omegas turned rabid. If they were quick then the collars would already be off, the devices ineffective as they piled on the ground. Shay would keep the keys until you were able to meet up again, and hopefully get your own constraints off before they could think to set it off.
The first time you had met Nik, he had taken a great amount of time explaining what would happen if you tried to cut the collars off, depicting in his own colorful language the mess that would be left behind. How the device would leave nothing identifiable left, only crimson stains and a twitching corpse that would be left for the others as a reminder to behave. It had been effective enough without the imagery, but his eyes had shown with malicious glee as he spoke, like a twisted storyteller as he outlined every detail. And now here you were, doing the exact thing you had been warned against, playing with fire that they would be too caught off guard to activate the collar immediately and give you enough time to meet back up with the others and get it off. The only consolation was that it would be quick, though messy. Would you even process the explosives lining the interior going off, or would it happen too quickly to even process?
The shouting and gunfire had faded into the background with only the occasional explosion that shook the ground telling of the continued fighting. Whoever it was, you had no interest in meeting them. No way would you be handed off to yet another who would control your life, passed around like a favorite toy until an owner claimed you.
“Fuck!” A slicing pain, hot and white, cuts your foot, making you stumble and nearly tumble to the ground. The next step only brought burning agony, a swift punishment for putting weight on the limb. Time was up it seemed, and you could only hope it was enough. Eyes swiftly scanning the area, you look for the least obvious place to hide, if only to give yourself a moment to stop the bleeding.
Quickly you moved to conceal yourself behind a stack of pallets, shedding your jacket to wrap around your foot to keep from leaving a trail of bloody footprints. The fabric was quickly stained in blood, fibers picking at the fresh wound as you bit your lip to keep from crying out. The pain attacked both physically and emotionally, the realization that even if you made it back to the others you would only slow them down. None of you were in the right shape to be carrying any extra weight. The gaping wound sealed your fate just as well as any collar or bullet, lip trembling as you picked at the wound in an attempt to staunch the flow.
“Omega.” Nik’s voice rang out, echoing off the metal walls of the maze around you. It was light, as he always spoke with an air of arrogance, but the lines of anger burned underneath just as his scent did. It made you want to cry, the scent of an Alpha so angry, his already sour scent growing stronger as if he was trying to flush you out with smell alone. To make you come crawling back to try and lessen punishment as the small voice in the back of your mind screamed. “I know you’re out there. I know you’re hurt. Just come on out and we can go back to the others. I won’t hurt you too much.”
‘Fat chance of that.’ You growled bitterly, clutching at the wound. The flow had yet to slow, and it was hard to tell if the loss of blood was what was making you grow light headed or your own quickening breaths you desperately tried to slow. Now wasn’t the time to lose your head, even if it felt as if it were being filled with pounds of cotton.
“I guess you really don’t care about them. Here I thought you Omegas were supposed to be all nice and shit, but I can see you’re not quite right. No wonder they had you all locked up at that place.” He laughed, as if recalling the memory of finding you all in the woods and relieving your handlers of your care was funny. “A proper Omega would listen to an Alpha.”
His voice was layered with command, an itch in the back of your mind telling you to listen even as the other half drowned it out in screaming the opposite. The defiant part of you that had guided you a majority of your life, lifting its lips at every slight like a rabid dog looking for a target.
“I’m sure that friend of yours would be much more compliant. A pretty thing he is.” His footsteps were getting closer, boots dragging across the asphalt as he picked his way around the small clearing, searing every corner at a careful leasure. “Wonder how he would look bent over for me. Bet he’d cry.”
Angre seared like venom, taking every ounce of control to keep your scent from projecting, though no doubt that he had begun to pick up on the way it sunk into the air. Your skin itched, fingers flexing around your wound as they ached to sink into different flesh, the give of vulnerable eyes under the force of your thumbs. He didn’t even have the right to look at Shay, let alone talk about him in such vulgar ways.
“Always liked the pretty ones. Guess that’s why you were always so safe, especially when compared to the others. Why you felt you could get away with this.” Wood splintered, echoing as it crashed into the side of metal while Nik’s searching grew more aggressive, desperate.
“I’ll make you watch what I do to him. Drive every sight and sound into that stupid little Omega brain of yours. Maybe then you’ll understand your place here.” More crashing, closer this time. Eyes darting, looking for anything to protect yourself with, they locked on to a nail that laid just a few inches away. Carefully you inched towards it, grabbing the cold metal sliver and retreating back to your corner before he could notice. It must have been from one of the wood crates, long and thin in your hands, the same length as your own fingers.
“Your family was the only one who didn’t respond. Even if the government pays the ransom I’m sure they wouldn’t notice if I kept you. Turned you into my own personal knotsucker.”
He was goading you, it was obvious. But after so many weeks of being under his thumb, taking every insult and injury without more than a glare, something in you snapped. Blame it on the adrenaline high, of being able to see the sky for the first time in forever and the pain in your feet making you delirious, but it was enough to weaken your defenses and allow a slip up. The defiant voice within you peeking out for just a moment.
The growl that escaped wasn’t loud, more of a grumble really despite the venom it held, but as soon as it left a sense of dread followed like a bad aftertaste. You shouldn’t have done that, but scolding that voice would do no good now.
The pallets you were behind were sent sprawling, leaving you to scramble to avoid getting crushed underneath as they toppled over. A corner caught your side, knocking the wind from your lungs as you stumbled away. The new exposure was momentary as a shadow eclipsed your vision.
“There you are.” A hand grasped your hair by the roots, nails digging into your scalp and dragging you up with a force that lifted you high above the ground. Nik’s face was still flushed from running, breathing heavy as he dragged out into the open. “We’re going to go back, and I’ll show you how a proper Alpha treats wild Omegas.”
It was no use struggling against his grip, ironclad no matter which way you twist or turn, careful to keep your teeth away from him. That didn’t keep you from trying, throwing your body weight each and every direction to get away, blunted nails clawing at his skin with minimal damage. Only when blood sloped down your hand did you remember the nail grasped between the digits, clenched so tightly it cut skin. Just one little sliver of metal, sharp as any fang or claw.
Gritting your teeth, you grasped the thin defense between your fingers, driving into the side of your captor with as much force as you could muster. Like you had claws once again, before they had been filed down. A full force growl, now more akin to a snarl, unrestrained, escaped as you pushed until it was sunk in as far as possible. Quickly pulling back and repeating the action again and again, Nik was quick to let go with a curse, shoving you away and grasping at his side which now bore multiple small punctures. A sense of satisfaction hit you at the blood that bloomed across the fabric, quickly spreading and dripping down your own weapon.
“You little bitch!” He was quick for a man who was injured, crossing the few feet to where he had tossed you. There wasn’t enough time to even get to your feet, wind knocked out of you as he delivered a blow right to your stomach. Weakly, you tried to once again strike with the nail only to have it wrenched from your grasp and thrown away, a light clatter as it skittered away.
Being in a scuffle was nothing new, growing up with siblings and being a more outspoken Omega than society preferred, but none were against trained professionals. Each fight seemed more like a small scuffle in comparison to the way you fought now. Nothing could have prepared you for the ferocity in which he struck, your body already weakened from abuse and the adrenaline only able to do so much. Blunt nails scratched at any skin you could find, feet trying to push him away in an attempt to get enough space to gather your bearings. Your teeth closed on empty air, preventing you from delivering a bite that would be able to stun him long enough as the venom practically burned in the glands just above your canines. It was practically acid, the liquid practically burning through to your nose in an attempt to escape and wreak havoc. It was nothing short of animalistic, primal in snapping teeth and flying spit as you wrestled with one another. Nik attempted to subdue you while you fought with every ounce of strength left, if not to escape then to provide the others with more time to get away.
Your skull met soft cartilage, a dull crack in reward for the headache it blossomed as Nik’s nose, crooked from previous fractures undoubtedly, was once again turned at an odd angle.
“Fuck you!” The biting words were rewarded with a swift blow to the jaw, leaving you stunned long enough for him to reach down to his hip. The knife entering skin didn’t even process at first, not until he twisted the weapon, drawing a scream from your lips. As if yelling loud enough would force him off through soundwaves alone.
“Look, now we match.” Nik’s teeth were stained with blood, lip cut from a well placed headbut. Any facade of mercy was now gone leaving only the brutal nature of angered Alpha, your scents burning and mingling in the air the so thick it would make any stomach turn. While the knife disappeared the pain didn’t, hands pawing at the wound and leaving you defenseless as his own fixed around your neck, cutting off any air. His nails dug into the flesh, the claws drawing blood, unshaven in comparison to your own.
Tears stung, yet refused to fall as black danced at the edge of your vision. Nik was the only thing you could see, his grinning visage smiling down as blood dribbled from his nose, following the sloping contour before splattering on your own.
You hated it. Hated him. Hated them, the world, for its own reality. Hated yourself because you weren’t strong enough, smart enough, to fight back even when you tried tooth and nail. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough, and you would have spent your entire life fighting only to be rewarded with more work. More scrutiny. And now this is how it was going to end, at the hands of some egotistical Alpha.
Any other way would have been preferable. Even if it had been in those blasted woods at the rehabilitation camp, or shot trying to escape. Even now you could hear the gunfire, cracking far closer than you remembered. Something warm splashed your arm, barely registering.
Nik jerked, grip tightening just a fraction more as the thought that he hadn’t been putting his full force in before in order to prolong the torture crossed your mind. But just as quickly as it had tightened, it slacked. Eyes once wide in sick excitement now held a look of confusion, brows drawn as his teeth grit together so loud you could hear them.
All at once he fell, his weight toppling over as you greedily sucked in air. His body didn’t go far, pinning you to the ground as you tried to move the large man away, still weakened from the scuffle and subsequent choking. Maybe he would still kill you like this, body doing just as good of a job as his hands in driving the air from your lungs.
Footsteps, quickly approaching as they crunched over asphalt.
The weight above moved, the newcomer grunting as they lifted Nik’s body up and away. Every fiber of your body screamed as you scrambled back, getting as far away as you could. Your hand touched something cold and smooth, instinctively closing around the slender handle. The knife had more weight than expected, heavy as you brought it up defensively. It was already coated with blood, making it a bit slippery to hold. It was Nik’s, you recognized, coated with your own blood.
“Easy does it lass. Dinnae ya’ to hurt yourself.”
The accent took you by surprise, like a bucket of cold water. Scottish if you had to assume, darting eyes focusing on the source just a few feet away. A man, still kneeling by Nik’s body. Blue eyes met yours, filled with their own wariness as they scanned your body. He moved to stand, pausing at the growl he received in response.
“Stay right there.” He froze at your tone, now half crouched, his lips parted to speak but silenced as another growl tore through you. It was like a cheesy cowboy movie, watching, waiting for the other to make a move. It would have been more tense if not for the crooked grin, shadowed with nervousness, that etched his features. The type that made others smile instinctively in response and passersby give a second glance, your own lips twitching in response. Kind and genuine, if not shadowed with concern, and would have helped put you at ease in any other situation.
Through the high walls the wind shifted, kicking up dust and bringing with it a new scent as it blew your hair every which way. An Alpha scent, strong and imposing. The smell of pine and mint, laced with a touch of anxiety. Good. You wanted him to be nervous, to have the upper hand.
“The government sent us. We’re here to help get you and the others.” He chanced slowly moving to stand, cautious as you watched with a sharp gaze. Regarding him with suspicion, you clenched the blade tighter, ready to take action in a moment's notice, unwilling to let your guard down.
If they were so intent on getting you back, why had they not paid the ransoms? Unless they had been set too high, but what would they look like if they let a group of Omegas be kept over money, especially when they were in high demand. Goods that couldn’t be replaced so easily. Not enough to pay ridiculous amounts, but what were the lives of a few soldiers? Where they could claim they tried but failed and have an excuse to only tighten the security on those that remained so it wouldn’t happen again.
“What do you know about the others?” He flinched back at the venom in your tone, eyes flicking to the knife in your hands, before landing on his own weapon. The voice in your head came back, roaring to make the first move before he got the chance, but even as you ached to move, either to get away or attack, you knew it would be of little result. Even now your hands trembled, the blade far from even as it pointed accusingly at the newcomer.
If it really came to it, he would have no issue taking you out. That much you were sure of. He wouldn’t even have to get close, the gun at his side a reminder of the imbalance and his proficiency with the weapon earlier. No doubt he would have it out and fired before you could take more than a few steps, let alone enough to get close enough to do any damage.
“Only that they’re safe. Heard it over comms.” He gestured to the radio on his vest. One of many tools that clung to his wide frame, the other pouches undoubtedly carrying weapons and tools he could use at a moment's notice. “Said there was one missin’ though.”
He slowly stepped forward, to which you mirrored the action in reverse, wincing as the fabric wrapped around your wound did little to protect it from the small stones littering the ground. Your mind raced, trying to reason with why you should even begin to trust him, but the mention of the others had set you on edge. If he knew then odds were they hadn’t gotten away, and your plan had failed. All that effort for nothing.
“I had to run. Had to get him away so that the others could get away.” Your voice wavered, assuring yourself more so than speaking to him. Even if the plan hadn’t worked it was your only option, right? Yes, you ran. You ran and were caught and then he-
Nik’s body lay still, not moving from where it had been tossed. A small puddle of viscous crimson gathered under, slowly spreading through the gravel below. He had done that, killed a man like it was nothing more than swatting away a fly, and now he was trying to get you to go with him.
“And you did a bang up job of it. Now just let me help you.” He takes another step forward and this time there’s nowhere to retreat as you’re backed into a corner. The cool metal of the container is the only thing keeping you grounded as it stops your escape.
The man approaches like one would a wounded animal, though you suppose he’s not far off as you’re ready to strike like one. He’s too close and you’re ready to bite, teeth aching to sink into flesh if only to rid yourself of the anxiety that clung like a second skin.
“Hey, look here.” He keeps one hand in the air, using the other to put the weapon in its holster, clicking the strap into place. “Don’t want any trouble. I can take you back to the others, get you all back home.”
Despite his actions, a flicker of doubt remains. He could be faking, knowing it would be easier to get close and subdue you. But then why would he have killed Nik? Were you going to be passed to yet another organization to use how they saw fit? He had mentioned the others though, which meant they were already with whoever he was. If you went with him then you could join them again, wherever that may be, and there would be another opportunity to escape.
Any conversation is paused as a high whine sounds, and it's with a start you realize that it's coming from you, or rather from the collar fit snugly around your neck, its presence forgotten until now. The man's expression mirrors your own, surprised at the sudden intrusion, before a click echoes between you. Just a moment of silence before it sounded again. Then another, and another, and another.
“You gotta be fucking with me.” The man growls, a string of curses following afterwards, some you know and many you don’t. Any pretence of patients quickly evaporates and he moves across the space with the ease of a predator, now seemingly unconcerned with the weapon you hold.
“We must ‘ave gotten out of range of the jammers.” He was close now, enough so that if he really wanted to he could grab you, force your bruised and battered body into submission. Instead he reaches out, eyes pleading as much as his words, dripping in desperation instead of irrefutable command. “Let me help you.”
It must be his eyes. Filled with a tender touch while holding a spark of sincerity in their icy tone. They remind you of Shay’s, the shades near identical, and how he would look the same way each time he comforted you, letting you know that the nightmare that was your life wouldn’t last forever as you sat huddled in the dark. The same Shay that you would give your life for. That you had intended to give your life for. Maybe that's why you hesitated, seeing the face of another, pulling away as your hands pried at the device, skin raw as it picked at the metal.
“It’s not safe.” Swallowing thickly, the words feel bitter as they admit the likely outcome of the situation. A stone in your stomach that sits unmoving. “What if it goes off and you’re still here?”
He only scoffs, a small snort that sounds almost like a laugh as his nose scrunches.
“Please. I’m the best demo expert in the unit. I’ll have it off in a jiff.”
He waited, watching as thought after thought ran through your mind like hounds after a rabbit, chasing it down endless tunnels and only receiving dead ends. Defeated, your hands dropped to the side, the knife clattering to the ground.
“You've got three minutes, then you're gone. Deal?”
He nodded, stepping closer with a sense of determination sparkling in his eyes.
“I'll have it off in two.”
His hands were cooler than you expected, brushing against your own heated skin as they reached for the device. He murmured out an apology when you jumped, taking extra care to avoid the scent gland located near the box containing a mass of wires. He worked silently, his face set in a line of grim determination while you were left to contemplate in silence.
Morality wasn’t something you had thought often about, never faced with the true prospect of death. It was the effect of being an Omega you suppose. They were hardly ever killed even when caught, their low numbers in recent years only furthering the sentiment that they should be kept as undamaged as possible. Even at the camp you had never truly feared death. Sure they would rough you up, starve you, beat you, but in the end you would come out of it alive if not worse for wear. Forced to continue floundering through life under the thumb of someone who thought it was their birthright. Even when you had been taken from there it was obvious that they took care not to kill any of the Omegas while the Alpha and Beta councilors were left to rot.
The kindness of living was so graciously and continuously extended to Omegas, but it always came at a cost.
That’s what made you question his actions. It was his job to find you, but it would be easy enough for him to step back, claiming there was nothing to be done. Nobody would blame him, even if they would be disappointed at the loss. There was still a chance you wouldn’t make it, the throbbing in your side from the stab only worsening. Between that and your foot it was a wonder you hadn’t bleed out yet, the adrenaline only doing enough to keep you standing.
“Why are you risking your life like this? You could just write me off as a lost cause and get your medal for helping with the others.”
Freezing blue eye flickered up to you briefly before going back to his work. His hands lightly tugged at the device, jerking your head to the side to give him better access to the now exposed wires. He was dangerously close to your scent gland as you watched him work from the corner of your eye, able to see little more than the mohawk he sported bobbing up and down. Each time his fingers brushed your skin had you flinching, receiving a muttered apology.
“Not looking for a medal.”
“A payout then?” You hummed. “I know the others had decent ransom prices on top of the ones they wanted from the government. I hate to break it to you but I don’t have a wealthy family. My vacation was strictly government funded.”
It had been something Nik had found great joy in holding over your head. The only one whose family hadn't responded, not that you expected them to. It had been years since talking, or even sending a message. Whoever did end up paying would have double the load, and while you didn’t know off the top of your head what the blackmarket price of Omegas was it must have been quite the payout. Though sentiment often carried a higher price tag than desire.
“Just doing my job, though gettin’ to see a pretty lass is always a perk. Besides,” he throws a look towards where Nik’s body lays, quickly growing cold. “I like to have my fun with mingin guys like that. Treating Omega like cargo. Should have taken my time but you didn't seem in the mood for it.”
You snort at his words, the absurdity of the situation comical when under other circumstances his comments would earn little more of a reaction from you than a wrinkled nose and scoff. The normal bravado Alphas and Betas liked to spout when they were trying to act like they gave a shit, but the venom in his tone holds your tongue, glad that his anger is not directed towards you. But oh how you liked to imagine what he could have done if Nik was forced to confront somebody his own size.
It's impossible to keep track of time so there's no way of truly knowing when his three minutes are up. Instead you pass the time and keep count of the steady rhythm of his breaths, timing your own along with him. He seems to know what he's doing. Either that or he's exceptionally good at faking it. For a moment, you allow yourself to hope that everything will be alright, that nothing else will go wrong and you can return back to your life as before. Go back to working a nine to five and coming home to your small apartment and fish, feeding the alley cats before you go to bed. Sitting at the cafes on weekends and silently watching the others that mill about, sipping on your own hot beverage and casually reading one book or another, maybe a few sketches if you’re feeling daring enough.
It’s nice to dream, head in the clouds and full of fantasy. Until the beeping increases, that is.
Your heartbeat picks up along with the intervals, eyes shooting to where the man is still working, though now his brows are scrunched together in frustration, his jaw set stiff. Despite not being an explosives expert and having no experience with the military or anything of the sort, you know the sound isn't good, having watched enough movies to know what it likely means.
“You need to leave now.” It's commendable the way you're able to speak with minimal shaking in your voice. An acceptance of what fate has in store for you, if not shadowed in fear. Your hands, trembling, reach for his own to pry them off his work, yet he only swats them away.
“I've almost got it. Just a bit longer.” You can see the way his eyes dart back and forth, taking in every component of the device as he assesses the best way to stop it. Maybe if there were a little more time it would have been possible but that seems the one thing you’re always running short on.
“We had a deal, now let me go. If I get to decide even one thing in my life it's how I die. I'm not going to take another down with me, no matter how annoying they are.”
His hand firmly grasps your arm as you try to pull away, ignoring the dig and stopping any attempts to move as he continues to work on the device. You pull harder but to no avail, temper flaring at his blatant disregard. Couldn't he see how stupid he was being? Could he not hear the timer, its cries slowly but steadily growing closer together?
“Will ya’-just-fuck! Hold still!” He moves to the ground, taking your body with him and pinning it under his weight with a practiced ease, legs resting on either side of your waist as he pins your hands. One hand firmly fixed on the upper half of your head, keeping it in place and teeth away from his skin, neck bent while he continues working against your struggles. He doesn’t even budge as you drive your knee into his side, apart from a light huff it's like he didn’t even notice. You can taste it now, the venom that leaks from the microscopic holes in your fangs in search of a target, eager to prove their evolutionary response. It tastes sweet despite its purpose, almost like the butterscotch candies that the school office receptionist always had sitting out, making your taste buds tingle as your body absorbs the liquid without issue.
The pain in your side does you no favors, each movement treated with a sharp stab of pain in response, as an invisible knife is being shoved back in with the smallest of movements. It makes you wish Nik were still alive, if only so you could thank him for the wound. He hadn’t been as heavy as the man above you now was, though he seemed considerate enough to not crush the air from your lungs with his weight.
The sharp countdown is nearly constant now, miniscule pauses between each shrill cry, screaming at anyone close enough with common sense to run. Something that the Alpha above you seems to lack. His collected facade from early is slipping with the sweat that beads across his skin, nose scrunched as he brings his knife closer to your neck, forcing you still or else risk it cutting into your flesh.
A light pressure before he jerks the blade back. It's little more than a snap, as if breaking a piece of string, but then follows silence. Nothing to fill the air but your own heavy breath and the scent of fear.
“Told you I could.” His lopsided grin returns, bravado peeking once again as he moves himself off you and to the side, weight finally gone. Taking a breather on the ground, he allows his head to tilt back, running a hand over his face as he shakily exhales, turning into a small chuckle. It's odd to hear such a sound, and for a moment you aren’t in the middle of nowhere with wounds and bruises covering every inch of skin as adrenaline wears off. Instead you’re back in the office, chatting with coworkers about weekends and complaining about the amount of emails sent out about not overusing the printer.
At this angle he’s almost a spitting image of Alpha who had trained you on your first day there. Rick. He was kind, excited to have an Omega working in the department as he lamented about how his own father had wanted to do the same thing but wasn’t allowed to due to his status. Rick had always been the one to make sure everything was going alright your first few weeks, making sure the others weren’t giving you trouble. He even introduced you to his own partner, a Beta who worked in Human Resources.
“If you have any issues just let one of us know. We’ll make sure everything gets sorted.” They had laughed, though from the glint in their eye you knew what force they held. The eye of a storm, ready to bring chaos at a moment's notice.
They had been the ones to vouch for you at the court hearing. Arguing that your actions weren’t unprovoked and the number of reports filed by HR proved it. All thrown out over a rumor from another department from someone you had never even met. That was all the Judge and jury needed to hear to make their decision. Fourteen months in a retrainment camp dedicated to helping Omegas overcome their unusual tendencies.
The sounds of fighting from before have stopped, the distant cracks of gunfire silenced. Only a few dark clouds floating up to join the quickly graying sky, and your mind wanders back to the others. What had happened to them in all the fighting when the plan went sideways? You watch, still unsure of the Alpha sitting next to you. The blood loss is tugging at the back of your mind and a part of you wonders about the dangers of bleeding out. The nick had roughly glanced through your side, Nik’s anger throwing off his aim enough to avoid a direct fatality, but it still slowly sapped away your resolve.
“Now, let's get you home.”
His words are lighthearted, yet it only works to sour your mood, thinking of what’s going to happen to you now that the pressure of capture was lifted ever so slightly.
What is going to happen to you?
The courts would decide most likely. With no assigned Alpha and disowned from your own family pack, any responsibility they had towards you scrubbed clean the moment your parents signed the papers, you were technically a wandering Omega. Something the law handled with the utmost restrictions. Of course they would find another way to try and force you into place, especially with that stubborn old Beta in charge of your case. A real family values man, who saw your lifestyle as an affront to family values. No doubt he would be foaming at the mouth once you were given back, ready to assign an Alpha or Beta caretaker that would never sign off on your papers. This entire event would be the backbone of his case to prove you needed someone to look out for you no matter how much your own lawyer tried to fight it. Even if the camp was the reason they were able to do so, the jury wouldn’t see it that way. At least not enough of them to make a difference in the outcome.
The man’s brows furrow, body stiffening as he scents the air, picking up on your displeasure. A soft rumble escapes, an attempt to sooth which only makes you angry. You didn’t want to be comforted like some pup who had a nightmare. You wanted freedom. True freedom. Not just to be handed back to another to have your leash tightened.
A faint crunching of movement makes your ears twitch, head whipping around to the source, your companion surprised by the sudden movement.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just-”
He’s cut off as you tackle him to the ground, nearly knocking your heads together, confusion evident as your body barely covers his. A slicing pain, sharper than any blade, cuts through your side just above where Nik had stabbed you, sharply inhaling as a new pain joins the cacophony of others.
The man had come around the corner without warning, the sunlight reflecting off the metal of his gun more of a warning than anything and leaving only a mere fraction of a second to react. It was stupid, and later you would give yourself all sorts of reasons on why you did it. That you were still in the strict mindset of self sacrifice from helping the others, or how he reminded you of Rick. Even just the fact that he had saved you and there was no way that you were going to be owing a debt to an Alpha. Whatever the reason it was enough to move your aching limbs, taking the shot as he recovered from his own confusion. Hands moved faster than you would have thought possible, the response quick in drawing his own weapon and firing a round of shots as a short cry sounded, followed by the thump of a body hitting the ground. The second one in less than ten minutes.
The attacker was dead, you were sure. If only you had enough energy to confirm the fact. Instead every muscle decided it was done, all giving out a once like a puppet with its strings cut, body slumping over as the large hands grabbed you, the only thing keeping you in even a semblance of upright.
“Fuck. A right foolish one is what you are?”
You wanted to answer, to snap back at him, but even speaking felt too much. As if a giant wad of cotton was stuffed in your mouth, its soft fibers threading into your brain and dulling the nerves alight with pain. It was admittedly a relief, though not a good sign when your limbs also began to lose feeling, numbness creeping up from your fingers.
Quickly flipping around, you were on your back once again. Frantic hands yanked your shirt up, inspecting the twin wounds now decorating your side. Instead of having the life forced out of you, it was instead being held in with enough pressure it felt as if your ribs would break. Fumbling, the man reached into one of the many pockets on his waist, producing a starch white wad of fabric which he pressed to your side.
“I need a medic at the Northwest corner just off the loading dock. Gunshot and stab wound to the abdomen.” He speaks into the radio, the red coating his hands and leaving a residue on the device as it drops back against his shoulder, returning once again to apply pressure to the wounds.
“‘S alright. I’ll get you patched up in no time.” Despite his even tone, the scent of anxiety betrays him, sobering in the reality of the situation.
Sure, the chances of dying were high. You knew that when you had volunteered to play this part. At that point you had almost expected it, either to be shot in the back or your head turned to mist by the collar that now lay uselessly on the ground. Something messy, but quick. Enough so that you wouldn’t have much time to realize what had happened. But now all you could do was lay there, drenched in the scent of panic as the Alpha above tried to do what he could for the wound. His voice was low and rumbling as he kept cycling between keeping watch for any more stragglers, head on a near constant swivel, and checking your wound.
“It’s alright. You’re strong. I can see it in your eyes.” His shifts, grabbing more gaze from his pack and tossing the now soaked ones to the side. Too quickly. It shouldn’t have been that fast to soak through, which meant you were losing blood fast. Even if he wouldn’t tell you, the way everything was slowly fading out was evidence enough. A part of you was terrified, clawing at any shredded hopes of survival. The other didn’t have enough to care. Too tired to do little more than stare at the sky above.
What was the point in fighting? There was nothing to go back to, nobody waiting to welcome you back with open arms apart from Rick and his partner. Work wouldn’t let you back in and it would be difficult to convince any judge to sign off and let you become a part of their pack with your history together, likely viewing them as a bad influence. No doubt your roommates had already found somebody to fill your spot in the apartment and who knows what they had done with your things.
The clouds looked soft, lazily making their ebay across the blue expanse, but the dark tone they carried along with the smell of rain on the wind told of the storm coming. You grimaced at the thought, remembering all the times you had been left to the mercy of the elements as rain soaked to the bone while wind howled in laughter at your predicament. It was impossible to have one thing go right, even when you were dying.
The distant crack of thunder made you jump, mind now flushed with a new set of worries. Ones that didn’t have to do with your impending display of mortality.
Shay. Shay was afraid of storms. What would he be feeling right now? Surely he would be scared, nervously picking at the skin of his knuckles as he always did, scratching away until they bleed.
A soft wheeze escaped your lungs, lips moving in desperation to produce a coherent sound around the knot in your stomach.
“Save the energy. Medics are almost here.” It was practically crooned, and you may have been more impressed with the skill normally used by Omegas in any other circumstance. Speaking into his radio once again, his voice was urging the other end to hurry as his fingers dug painfully into the wound.
You blinked slowly, deliberate, ridding your mind of the fog that crept in. Even if you weren’t going to make it out of here. You had to let them know. The thought of Shay being even more scared, your de facto leader who had yet to break, finally crumbling under the pressure, was enough to muster the last of your energy to cough out the words.
“S..hay.” The man leaned closer, breath fanning your skin as his head tilted, listening. His eyes were quizzical even as his hands moved to keep pressure.
“Scared…of…s…storms.”
He pulled back, jaw set and his gaze searching your own as he put the broken sentence together.
“Your friend. They’re scared of the storm.” You nodded, so slight he may have missed it as his head tilted up to the clouds. The first few drops broke, falling heavy and wet against your skin, mixing with the tears that had gathered. One drop, placed by the heavens themselves in its trajectory, fell right into the corner of your eye, breaking the surface tension of the salty tears gathered there and allowing them to flow freely.
A hand, calloused and rough, smelling of iron, gently brushed away the streak before it could reach your hairline.
“Aye. I’ll make sure they’re alright.” His palm gently cupped your jaw, fingers tracing just above the scent gland, as if tempted to try and sooth you by covering the area. “I’ll make sure they’re all taken care of.”
It was like a weight taken off your shoulders, able to breathe freely for the first time in recent memory. It wasn’t the worst way to go, you decided, the sound of multiple footsteps quickly approaching dulled by the realization. It was soft in its own way as the pain began to fade, replaced by a fuzzy, almost giddy feeling that chased away the fear.
The others would be fine. They would be able to go back home. Maybe this would be enough for those who sent them here to realize their mistake, that they should have held on a little tighter, appreciated them more. Now there was nothing left to do but rest. Yeah, that sounded nice.To ease the aching in every fiber of your being that had haunted you for as long as you could remember, starting before any of the mess you currently found yourself in. To allow the bliss of unconsciousness take over, even as the activity around you picks up once again. It didn't matter anymore. Not even as voices rang out, yelling and making you flinch at the thundering volume, and you felt multiple pairs of hands touching you, blurred figures appearing against the backdrop of the darkening sky.
Yet through it all, one voice still managed to cut through.
“Don’t give up on me now, lass.”
__________________________________________
Military hospitals were awful. Not as much so as the normal ones, but still bad enough. The smell was stifling in its sterility, their efforts to keep everything as neutral as possible for everyone who visited. Clearly they hadn't been accustomed to housing omegas as you had an entire room to yourself. The other beds remained empty no matter how much you wished for them to be filled. Months of constantly being around the others to now suddenly be so alone was like being dunked in ice water. The only upside was that you were easily able to take the blankets from each of the other beds and pile them onto your own. Their combined weight did little to help and often left you sweating when you woke in the middle of the night.
Company was far and few between apart from the nurses and doctors that came in and out to check your vitals and deliver foods and meds. Alphas and Betas, all of them. Though that shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise given you’re still on a military base. A part of you still wished to see the others, not having been given the opportunity to see them after the whole ordeal had ended.
It had been disorienting when you had first awoken, not having expected to in the first place. It was like waking up the morning after a night of heavy drinking, except magnified by 100. You could hardly remember what had happened, let alone understand where you were now. Trying to get out of bed had only resulted in falling to the floor, taking a number of machines with you as their tubbing was still connected to every available inch of skin. The noise had been enough to draw the attention of the nurse outside, who's quick to reprimand you as she helped you back into bed and fetched the doctor.
Lucky, they told you. That's what you were. Lucky to be alive after all the blood you had lost. Lucky that neither the bullet nor the blade had done more damage. Lucky that the medics had been able to get to you so quickly, and that the man who found you had been at least competent in his first aid.
What a stupid word.
If you were lucky, none of this would ever happened.You wouldn't have been shot or stabbed. Kidnapped and dragged away against your will from one place to another. Your case would have been seen as self-defense instead of an attack. If you were truly lucky you would never have presented as an Omega. You would be out living your life to the fullest instead of stuck in here with the smell of disinfectant burning your nose while two suits stood stiffly at the end of your bed.
“We've managed to sort things out with the others,” The shorter beta spoke, Rifling through her suitcase as she pulled out a file. Quickly flipping through the papers with a practiced ease, her eyes skimmed the information. “It seems you have more of a…..special case.”
That was one way to put it. The other leaned over, brow rising as he read over the information quickly, eyes darting to you and back.
“It says here that you have no registered pack mates. No Beta or Alpha as an overseer. Absolutely nothing in the form of connections.” The tone is almost accusatory. Of course you wanted to snap at them. You would have pack mates if you had been allowed to sign on with Rick and his spouse. Something they had offered to do to help you get around a lot of the red tape. But since they themselves had only registered as a pack a few weeks before you had to wait the allotted time frame to add another. Before that could happen, the incident at work occurred, and the courts were in no rush to approve the papers after that.
“Pretty concerning given the situation. We can’t just let you go back like nothing happened. The courts are concerned about your mental state, and your previous rehabilitation period can hardly be considered as fulfilled.”
Fire pooled in your stomach, burning with words to shoot back at the two even as you held your tongue.Though that also could have just been the rather sorry lunch you had been served earlier.
“Yeah yeah.” You wave your hand, nearly hitting the taller Beta in doing so as you tried to ignore the way your sore throat protested at the even tone. No amount of tea and honey was going to help it heal any faster, but a far cry from the few choking words you had managed when you first woke “I know the deal. Just send me back to another camp and I can finish out my time.”
No matter how unfair it was, there was little to be done but finish your time and try to keep them from finding any more excuses to keep you for longer.
“Actually, “ The woman places a folder on your lap, flipping it open to reveal a pamphlet stack on top of a few papers.
Guiding Hands Institute: Helping Omegas since 1904
The font was thin and elegant, contrasting the smiling faces of what you assumed were Omegas, people in lab coats and uniforms standing behind them. Each one with a firm grip on the person in front as they smiled, too bright, the action not quite reaching their eyes.
“We think an institute would be a much better fit for you. Something more hands on. They show great success in their work.” She flips it open, showing more of the information inside.Information and statistics on those who went on to find a pack afterwards, how many months it took for patients to find a mate and build their perfect lives. Reviews covered an entire section, raving about how nice the place was, how it helped them to see all the things wrong in their lives and work to correct them.
The man had taken over now, his voice blurring into background noise as you stared at the words. Of any possibility, this was the worst. You knew what institutions were. Every Omega did. And every Omega, yourself included, had nightmares about ending up in places like that. Programs reserved for the truly ‘hopeless’ Omegas. When you went to places like this, they killed you in every way that mattered just to create a new version from the ashes.
It was like a hand had fixed itself around your lungs, squeezing every last ounce of hair from them with ease. Everything started swimming, colors and shapes blurring together as tears gathered but refused to fall. The two Betas seemed to finally realize your distress, flanking you on each side as their scents reached out in an attempt to soothe. But there was no soothing you now, not when your worst fears, what you had nightmares about for weeks when your case first went to hearing, were now coming true. The fate once escaped now coming back, efforts to escape futile. There's nothing to be done as you begin to hyperventilate, hands gently grabbing at your shoulders, forcing you back to lay down against the flat pillow of the bed. The heart rate monitor was going wild and it was a wonder that none of the nurses had come in yet, though they might have already been warned about this by the two caseworkers who likely had seen the reaction coming. Yet even now you fought against their touch, shaking away their hands and gentle tones like a dog shaking of water.
You were alone once again, with no friends to help you this time. Nobody to lean on or vent your fears to. Completely, utterly, alone.
“What the hell is going on here?”
A voice cut through the chaos, the authority it carried making you all pause. It was deep and gravelly, layered with a comaniding finality and confidence. Distinct in only the way an Alpha could be.
In he stepped, dressed in the same clothes you had seen others wearing in the halls. Not medical personnel but instead one of the many military occupants, the same shift and pants combination made out of scratchy looking material, as if they were attempting to make an army of clones. His gaze was just as cutting his voice, fixing upon where you still lay with the two Betas crowding in on either side of the bed. Like a needle it pinned you in place as he examined the scene. Nobody dared to move even as he steps further into the room. Only when he focused on the taller Beta did the man speak, head tilting in question as his words came stuttering out under the wordless interrogation.
“Sir, we’re taking care of some official business regarding the transportation of this Omega. It would be best if-”
“I don't think you can decide what's best here.” The newcomer cut him off, brow raising in warning as the man went to start to speak once more. “Not when you’re causing so much obvious distress and setting everyone on edge. Not very good for recovery I reckon.”
Stepping to the side and leaving a clear path back to the door, he gestured for the two to leave with a sweep of his arm.
“I've got some business with them. Official military business, on a military base, and I don't enjoy my plans being interrupted. So I suggest you leave and give us some space to talk.” Despite his words it was obvious it wasn't a suggestion, the tone carrying a finality that wouldn't be questioned, if the person it was addressed to valued their life.
The two quickly packed up their things skirting around the man as they left the room. He shut the door behind them, clicking the lock into place before turning back to where you sat.
“Never liked the suits much. They get a bit too uppity for my taste. Seems you don't like them too much either.”
You eyed him with suspicion, having not seen him before now, but it seemed he already knew who you were. He casually made his way across the room, posture relaxed as he moved to settle at the end of the bed, leaning one hand out to rest on the railing and placing the rest of his weight on the limb. A picture of ease and confidence, even as the burn of scent blockers drifted within reach. Considerate at the very least to not be canvassing the area in his scent.
“What do you want?” It was accusatory despite the whispery tone, though you didn't intend for it to be anything else. That was the best way to deal with men like this, you had learned. Forward. Direct. He didn't seem to take it as too insulting, the only sign that the words had gotten to him was a slight twitch of his lips.
“Name’s John Price. You don't know me but you know one of my men. Johnny.”
Price watched carefully, as if expecting you to react to the words, yet both names remain unknown in your memories. You didn't make it a point to hang out with those in the military, having limited interactions with them. This was the most you had ever had to deal with them and it was enough to last a lifetime.
“I'm sorry, I don't know who you're talking about.” You finally admitted, unable to come up with another answer. The man only hummed as he crossed his arms over his chest, shifting on his feet.
“I guess there wasn't a whole lot of time for introductions. The man who found you, do you remember him?"
Of course you can. It was the first thing you had thought of upon waking, the last face you had seen before what you had assumed would be your end. The nurses didn’t know who you were talking about when you asked and he hadn't appeared again, so you simply brushed the concern away. There were bigger things to worry about than an unknown man who would most likely never see again.
“The stubborn Alpha with the mohawk.” Your description, while intended as nothing but accurate, manages to get a laugh out of John.
“The one and only. Good to see he left an impression.”
“Hard for him not to." The air felt lighter as you spoke, as if he radiated a calming aura, bringing you down from your earlier high of anxiousness and taking away the element of the unknown. “Not when I had to fight him tooth and nail to try and get him to leave. He wouldn't give up.”
“I'd expect nothing else from him. Once he gets something in his mind he can be quite difficult to dissuade. That’s why I'm here.”
Your head tilted in confusion, wondering how you're run in with the other led to this meeting. Slowly he walked around to the side of the bed, the proximity now allowing you to get a better sense of his scent. It was sharp yet warm, the bite of cloves and cinnamon attacking your nose. Under it laid the sentence of smoke, though it was evident that it wasn't part of his natural scent. Most likely a smoker if you had to guess, going off the outline of the lighter you could see in his pocket.
“They wouldn't let him in here, procedure with you being an unclaimed Omega and all, though I managed to pull a few strings, but he wanted to make sure that you knew your friends were all right. They were sent back to their families without issue. Said you were pretty torn up about their safety even when they were hauling you off.”
The news should have brought you joy, every other staff member refusing to answer any questions about them, and it did, but also the earlier embers of anger. They got to go back to their families, even if those families had been the ones to send them to the camp in the first place, but chances were they were able to wiggle their way out of being sent back again. But not you. No, instead you were being forced into a much worse situation. You shouldn't be angry at them, none of this was their fault, but a portion of you did resent them. Resent the fact that you were still forced to continue suffering in such a way.
“ I see.” keeping your tone light, you managed a smile. "Thank you for letting me know. I'm glad things turned out well.”
Your mind turned back to Johnny, remembering the concern that had etched his face as your own vision had faded out.
“The Alpha who found me, is he all right? I don't really remember much of what happened at the end.”
John nodded, his eyes flickering down to your waist where an abundance of bandages still wrapped around the wounds. After the first few days and accidentally ripping open the stitches multiple times from your own stubbornness of wanting to get out of bed, they had stopped bleeding as much. Now they were able to stay a pristine white between dressing changes, though that didn't stop the aching pain that seemed to constantly radiate from the wounds.
“He's all right, thanks to you it seems. One hell of a person to take a bullet for someone they just met, even if it was reckless.”
John eyed you with a new intensity, one that made your face burn. Quickly ducking your head and focusing on the blanket, your fingers nervously picking at the threads. Compliments weren't something you were used to, especially about you. It was far more common for criticisms to arise citing your ‘unnatural’ tendencies as an Omega. You didn't miss the way he hadn't worded it, calling you a person instead of Omega. almost as if he saw you as something other than your designation. As somebody who could potentially be equal with him.
He placed a hand on your shoulder, drawing your attention back.
“I owe you a favor for keeping my man safe. If you ever need anything don't hesitate to ask.”
The intention, well well- meaning, was almost laughable. What could you possibly ask for from him? Especially when you were being shipped off to an institution now and the odds that you would ever see anybody from the past few months again was zero. Instead they would work until you were broken down. Institutes didn't let people go until they decided they were ready to be let go, regardless of how long the court orders stated your rehabilitation was for. It would take a miracle to stop it now. Nothing short of an official courtship or claiming where the power of decision would be passed to whoever signs the papers as your legal guardian.
Rick hadn't been able to do it before and there was no way to get a message to him in time. It's not like you had a long list of Alphas that you could call on, and even fewer who would pass the screening of requirements needed with the record that followed you. It would have to be somebody who's proven capable, that they believed would be able to properly handle an aggressive Omega.
Someone they thought was capable enough but that you could also trust not abuse their newfound power over you, having legal control of nearly every aspect of your life. Who you could stay with and leave without issue, a clean cut.
“Actually, " you turned to John, tone even as you spoke, a plan quickly forming in your head. " There is one thing you could do."
He nodded, shoulder squared back, ready to fill any request asked of him, and you had no question but he would do so.
“I want to talk to Johnny.”