9. Jane

It takes a moment for my rattled brain to catch up with his rocking hips. The guy is all muscle, and the bulge in his pants is no exception. But then both Law and Drew are on him, cursing and tearing at his arms. I catch the edge of Manson's dark-eyed smirk before he barks over his shoulder. "I call in my favor, Locke. You owe me enough of them, you asshole."

Drew blinks at me, spots of angry color burning in his cheeks. "You're fucking joking."

"This is a party," Manson sneers. "Aren't you Bleak House freaks meant to be showing us a good time?"

Drew is snarling like he wants to hit him, but Law shoots him a warning look. They both let go of the larger guy, and Manson's smirk widens to a full-blown grin as he lifts me to my feet. His alpha scent – iron and musk and something bitter that makes my tongue curl – washes over me. A squeak of surprise leaves my lips as he jerks me all the way up and tosses me over a bulky shoulder. The room swings wildly around me, those strobing lights hitting me in the eyes. Manson laughs, his hand coming down on my butt in a stinging slap. "Back off, dogs. I'm not gonna hurt him. Much."

I catch a glimpse of Drew's furious face and then he's gone, stalking away to the stairs. Instead of following him, Law grips my wrist as he falls into step beside Manson. "I know you've got a thing for Van Ness. Why are you messing around here when I heard her say she was looking for you earlier?"

Manson grunts, not slowing down a step. "Fuck off, Law. It's pretty obvious she's still panting after Wake." His hand comes down on my ass a second time, rubbing the smack into the fabric of my overalls. "Well, screw her. I'm going for something easier tonight."

"Then how about I help out?" There's a seductive note in Law's voice that makes my head whip around. "Two is better than one, right?"

Manson snorts but shrugs the big shoulder I'm draped over. "Suit yourself. But don't think this wipes Locke's slate clean. That guy owes me until the end of time, and then some."

Law pulls a face, but then I hear the creak of the pantry door and we're crowding into the small space. Manson drags me off his shoulder and I try to take a step back, but his hand is on my head, pushing me down to my knees. Before I come into contact with the cold concrete, Law is stepping between us, his hand dragging Manson's chin down for a kiss. His boots hit my shins, and I shuffle back as far as I can, trying to ignore the slick sound of their tongues coming together. But Manson tears his mouth away, holding Law off with a hand on his throat. "What's with you throwing yourself at me, Law?" His brown eyes narrow as they lower to my face. "You trying to protect him from me or something?"

"Jack's young." Law replies, edging his way in front of me. "And he's got zero game. You shouldn't waste your spectacular dick on a kid…"

I've shuffled back almost to the door, but I stop at his words. I'm not completely na?ve. Law is trying to distract the bigger alpha so he doesn't take his frustration over Van Ness out on me. I can feel it vibrating under Manson's skin, just like I can scent the tension coming off Law. He doesn't want to be in this stuffy pantry any more than I do. But he's putting himself between me and a predator who doesn't know how to deal with his hurt feelings.

Well, that's something I can definitely help with.

"Don't worry, Law," I tell him as I get to my feet and dust off my hands. "Manson isn't really interested in me. He's just trying to distract himself from Van Ness because she rejected him. We should just leave him here to sulk in private."

Both guys stare at me with bugged eyes. But when Law tries to step between us, Manson knocks him back with a brutal thrust. His other hand curls into the front of my overalls, his aggressive scent burning in my nose. "Bring that fucking mouth here, runt."

He drags me forward, but I wait until we're almost nose to nose before I shake my head. "You don't want this, Manson," I tell him in my best take-your-medicine tone. "Kissing me isn't going to make you feel better about Van Ness."

"It will if I bite your cheeky fucking tongue off," he spits, which I guess is fair warning both ways. I can feel Law hovering, ready to jump in again, but the big alpha turns me and slams me against the shelves, his shoulders caging me in. I have a second to grab a breath and then his hand is on my throat, cutting off my air. "Not so mouthy now, are you, squeak?"

I don't try to speak, just focusing my gaze on his mouth. His lips are so unlike Law's they might as well be a different body part. They're thinner, paler, and chapped from the wind or sun. Not even remotely enticing, but I lower my lids, letting myself sag under his grip. A grunt pushes out of his throat at my submission, and then he lowers his face, watching me all the while. I can see the black flecks in his brown eyes through my lashes, and a hint of hesitation makes his pupils contract. But then he juts out his jaw and takes my bottom lip roughly between his teeth.

He bites down, hard enough to bruise. But it's barely a threat, given I can soothe it away with a swipe of my tongue. And I know it shows in my eyes. Is that all you've got, Alpha?

"You're seriously playing with me?" He sounds equal parts angry and baffled, but his hand tightens on my throat. "You need to be taught a lesson, runt…"

But before he can bite down harder, I feed him a tendril of power. Just a wisp, slipping it past the rising growl in his throat. I can feel my breath gathering on my tongue, potent with healing, but I hold it back. Which is definitely the right move when his eyes snap wide with shock. I expect him to shove me against the shelf, but he drops his hands like I burned him. "What the fuck was that? You trying to make me puke?"

"Step the fuck away, Manson." Our heads snap towards the door, where Travis is gripping the frame hard enough for his knuckles to glow. "Do it, or I'll break that shooting arm you're so proud of."

Manson sucks in a breath, those black lights flickering in his eyes before he gives a shaky laugh. "Shit, Wake. Don't tell me you're stuck on this scrawny shit, too."

"Get. Out. Now."

Each word is punctuated with Travis' fist against the wall, shaking dust bunnies from the shelves and sending a can of green beans rolling into the shadows. Manson turns to look at me, and I notice his lips are now pink, that slip of power I fed him having buffed them to a pearly shine.

"You're a fucking puzzle, runt," he murmurs, then elbows me back against the shelf and thuds out of the pantry. He has to barge past Travis, knocking away the hand that's curling towards his jacket. "Don't waste your energy, Wake," he drawls. "You freaks deserve each other."

Law steps in front of me, blocking out the rest of the exchange. When I look up into his eyes, they're crinkled at the edges with something that might be admiration. "You're quite the little magician, Jane. I don't think I've ever seen Manson back off like that."

I smirk, since the only reason Manson left was because of the huge alpha in the doorway. But I like the way Law is staring at me, so I smile as I say, "Sometimes you have to disarm larger opponents."

Law laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "Hear that, Travis? Jane has us all worked out."

The big alpha gives him a filthy glare. "Get the fuck off her and out of my house."

He then turns on his heel, roaring murder at the people in the kitchen. I'm not sure if he kicks the stereo, but the song cuts off, and even in the pantry I can hear the stampede towards the door.

"I've upset him," I murmur, listening to the heavy thud of what I assume are Travis' boots, kicking out the stragglers.

"He's protective," Law replies, wrapping a hand over my bare skull. He rubs it for a moment, his fingers playing with the short bristles. "You bring out the beast with those big eyes, Omega. So be careful how you use that power." I drop my gaze at the warning, but he just grazes his knuckles over my cheek. "Come on. Let's go see if we can calm the drama queen down before he punches another hole in this palace."

I nod, and we pick our way through the messy kitchen and back into the living area. Law points to a small half-bath under the stairs, and I quickly take care of my overdue business, careful not to touch any of the sticky surfaces. When I come out, the couple under the blanket are gone, and the couches have been pushed back into place. Cups and bottles are everywhere, but Travis' focus is on the stairs, his hand gripping the banister and his boot tapping in impatience. Law leads me over to one of the couches while Travis growls at Drew, who's coming down the stairs… an identical twin on his heels.

The twin almost looks like a shadow; paler, thinner, and altogether less impressive than his brother. Or, at least, that's what I think until he looks at me from behind his black-frames glasses. "You couldn't have stayed upstairs?" he asks as he reaches the bottom, his mouth pulled into a disapproving line. "It would have been preferable if you just stayed out of sight."

I sit up straighter, heat flooding my cheeks as I catch Travis' eye. He clearly agrees with the angry twin. "I'm sorry. I was looking for the bathroom and heard the music…"

"What's done is done," Drew says with a sigh, nudging his twin towards me. "Jane, this is my brother, Avery. He's going to help us hide you, okay?"

I only then notice the computer in Avery's hands. It's a bit like the comm units the doctors use on the ward, except it looks like it's been cobbled together from used parts. "You don't need to worry about that," I tell him. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Back to my home… on the estate."

"The estate where you were drugged, stuffed in a footlocker, and shipped to our house?" Drew drops onto the couch and shakes his head at me. "What's stopping him from putting you in a more permanent box?"

I'm not the only one who notices he doesn't mention the colonel by name, but before Travis can bark at him, Avery starts tapping on his computer. "I agree we need to get her out of here, but there's a complication. Seems someone reported a new Bleak House resident, and her name is in the system already. Or his name, since it's here as Jack Cutter."

Travis strides over and glares at the screen. "Who the hell told them her name is Jack?"

"I did." Drew looks unrepentant. "I was trying to throw them off her scent, so I told them she's Cutter's cousin. A guy cousin."

Travis looks incredulous. "And they believed you?"

Something flutters under my breastbone at his disbelief. I don't have a lot of feminine pride – especially now I'm shorn, bruised, and dressed like an army grunt – so it's hard to keep the smile off my lips. But Drew just shrugs. "They bought it. Even Carmen, and she's got eyes like a hawk."

"Our eyes are actually the least reliable of our senses," Avery says distractedly. "If they smelled her without the booze and weed, it would have been harder to fool them."

But something else has caught Travis' attention. "Why's there an amber alert against her name?" he demands, pointing at the screen .

Avery gives a grim nod. "They're fast-tracking her processing. Someone's obviously worried about having an untagged Bleak House freak wandering around campus."

My hackles rise at the slur, but Drew jumps to his feet, startling me. "Fuck! Processing!" His eyes are enormous as he stares at Travis. "You remember that, right? The polygraph, the medical, the cavity search…" He lifts his leg and slams his boot on the coffee table, hitching up his jeans. "Getting fitted with the fucking ankle monitor!"

"Shit!" Travis curses, dragging a hand over his short hair. "If they get one of those on her…"

"There's no way she's getting off campus."

I stare at the black box strapped to Drew's ankle. Why is he wearing that? It only takes a moment of looking around to realize both Travis and Avery have similar bulges under their pant legs. But not Law. What does it mean? I've never seen anything like it, even on the ward when AWOL prisoners were brought through, their injuries a little too fresh to be from the front.

"Don't panic," Avery says with an annoyed frown in their direction. "I've already assigned her processing to a friendly. He'll drop the monitor off tomorrow, and I've made sure it will be one of the decommissioned ones. It'll still register her in the tracking system, but we can turn it off at any time."

Travis doesn't look convinced, nudging Drew with his toe. "This one of your fuck-boy favors?"

Drew flushes red, but his twin gives Travis a cool look. "No, actually. It's one of my contacts. He's the TA for my Engineering and Logistics class, and he's on my Doom Reaper team."

"Another geek," Travis mutters, but then folds his arms, looking a little less homicidal. "Okay. So, we hide her here for a few days until we can smuggle her out."

"Not going to work," Law says with an apologetic glance in my direction. "Jack Cutter attracted too much attention. Whoever reported him will be on the lookout. If he's not in class, they could start poking around, maybe get him labeled a truant."

Travis grunts. "So? Cutter's the invisible man and no one cares. We'll just say it runs in the family."

"You really want Carmen or Manson sticking their nose in and asking questions? What if they come around here while we're in class?"

Travis juts out his chin. "I'll kick their asses."

"And set off your ankle monitor, bringing every campus cop down on our heads."

"Law is right," Avery cuts in, still tapping away on his computer. "The safest option is to enroll her with us. I've taken the liberty of amending her schedule, so she's in one of our classes at all times. We act as if it's all perfectly normal, and then the Friday after next, we smuggle her off campus." He turns his screen, tapping an entry on the online calendar. "Family Day. There will be strangers everywhere. She puts on a dress, attaches herself to some random parents, and waltzes out the door."

"A fortnight," Travis says slowly, thinking it over.

"Enough time for her to get something set up on the outside." Avery's shrewd eyes lock on mine. "There's somewhere you can go, right?"

The commune? Not likely, especially if the colonel comes looking for me. But there's always a need for mercy skills in the cities. Somewhere big and crowded, where I can disappear until the colonel loses interest or heads back to the front. "Yes," I say firmly. "I'll be fine."

He holds my gaze for a beat longer, then looks back at his screen. "Good. Then the only thing left to do is sort out your scent. We can't have you sitting in a stuffy classroom and smelling like an omega."

"Scent blockers," Drew murmurs and stands up, rubbing his hands together. "There should be some at the mercy ward."

When he starts towards the door, I jump to my feet. "That won't work! They don't just hand out scent blockers to alphas."

Law chuckles, his finger hooked in the pocket of my overalls. "Don't fret, Omega. Drew can convince a dying man to part with his last breath."

"No, I mean you don't need to go to the ward." I swallow hard, skirting the truth while trying not to fall headfirst into the pit of my expanding lies. "I can cloak my scent. I'm a service omega, remember? We're trained to hide in plain sight."

Travis' brow furrows in suspicion. "Trained?"

"Taught, I guess." Because from what I've heard and read about service omegas, invisibility is almost a gift, like healing. "The older omegas show the younger ones how to suppress their scent. In some houses, it's the only way you survive."

"Fuck." Travis scrubs a hand over his face. "Right. Well, do what you need to do, and we'll check your scent in the morning."

Law grins like a cheshire cat and loops his arm around my shoulders. "Welcome to Sentinel Academy, recruit. May your sentence here be short and sweet."