Page 30 of Fight
“Shh, you’re safe, little omega,” says a deep rumbly voice. My gaze snaps over to a large man sitting in an oversized chair in the corner of the room who seems to be staring at me.
That’s not creepy at all.
“What’s going on?” I rasp before a coughing fit hits me. I can’t breathe as I bend over in pain. God, everything hurts. Being hit with a truck fucking hurts, and fuck, the rats.
My body is shaking as tears escape from the remembered terror, and I turn my head so my long, tangled blue hair hides them.
“Fuck, here’s some water,” the alpha says quickly, standing. My body is coiled tightly with anxiety. I don’t know this alpha, even if the tattooed sleeves up his arms and hair piled in a haphazard man bun look vaguely familiar.
So many people come through my club, at some point the faces meld into one other.
A cool glass is pressed into my hand, and I force myself to wrap my fingers around it. Still, I almost drop it because my hands are shaking so badly.
The need to drink is so strong because my throat is on fire, so as soon as there’s a break in my coughing, I take a careful sip. I’m terrified of accidentally inhaling the water, and even my lips hurt as the cool liquid passes through them.
God, my poor body is so fucked up.
“Good girl,” the alpha rumbles approvingly as I drink, and I continue to hide my face.
“Where am I?” I ask once I pull away the glass to hold it in my lap. All I can think about is Auggie and how worried he’ll be. I may appear calm, but the second I know what my next move is, I’m fucking out of here.
Omegas who don’t think, find themselves dead and buried. I didn’t survive last night just to die because I was impatient and afraid. No fucking way.
“You’re in my home,” the alpha says, making me turn to look up at him. He’s obnoxiously good looking, while I’m pretty sure I smell from diving against my will in the dumpster. “Want to tell me why you were tossed away like yesterday’s garbage behind my gym?”
“Want to tell me who the fuck you are?” I grouse. Well, so much for being careful.
The alpha snorts in amusement as he folds his arms over his chest. His tattoos crawl up his skin in vibrant color, and I find myself admiring them for a moment before reminding myself to focus.
My fingers curl into my palm as I dig my nails into the skin. Pain helps to push away some of the fog I’m feeling, giving me something else to focus on other than the thumping in my head.
“I’m Tommy Madden,” he says as if that explains everything. There’s mischief in his emerald-green eyes and things start to click into place as I stare at him.
Tommy’s fighters participated in Aisling and Wren’s fundraiser at my club, though Jasper, Aisling, and Auggie mostly spoke together to coordinate everything. He’s also Arthur’s boss according to Xavier.
“So you’re telling me you’re responsible for my being here. That’s fucking fantastic. Your little underling decided that selling me and trying to kill me would be a great option in retaliation for hurting his manhood. You really should teach your people not to touch things that don’t belong to you. I know you’re criminals and all, but I didn’t know you were rapists and sex traders too,” I snarl.
Tommy’s eyes darken at my words to a deep moss green, and I let go of the mostly empty cup, so I have both hands in case I need to defend myself.
“Do you often move into defense positions around alphas?” he growls, but almost in a curious way. “Arthur didn’t rape you, which I only know because I had a nurse look you over, since you were so out of it earlier. I don’t work in the skin trade, Cerenity.”
“So you do know who I am,” I say softly, not understanding his last words. “I have a life to get back to. Am I a prisoner?”
“Prisoner, no,” he grunts almost hesitantly. “I need to deal with Arthur today, as I had no idea he was going to do something like this. I need to know what happened though.”
“I have people I need to call,” I insist because he didn’t answer me. “Tommy, I can’t stay here.”
My hand moves to rub my forehead as tears begin to prick my eyes. I feel awful, and that’s what I’m blaming this weakness on. I don’t cry in front of people.
It just gives people the blueprint on how to hurt you. I swear he’s being purposely obtuse, though.
“Your head has to hurt right now,” he says, making me roll my eyes. “I have pain reliever here. The IV is just to help with your dehydration. My sister is the nurse who has been taking care of you, but I set up your infusion myself.”
“You did this?” I ask as I take the pills. Tommy picks up the empty cup and refills it with a pitcher of water on the nightstand before handing it back to me. Well, I guess if he wanted to kill me he would have already. However, a small kindness does not make up a good alpha.
My mother taught me those very hard lessons. Popping the pills into my mouth after I glance at the bottle it came from again to confirm they’re what he said they were, I swallow them down with some water.
Here’s to hopefully not feeling as if there’s a heavy metal concert happening between my ears.