3. Resa

Chapter 3

Resa

I grunt as I slam into a branch. Another whips me across the face and I wince, but I grapple desperately to hold on.

Don't look down. Don't look down.

I curse when I break a nail, briefly lose my firm hold on the tree I'm clinging to for life, and ridiculously slowly fall down the tree, branch to branch. I get whipped in the face, break nails, scrabble to hold on and wonder whether the next thump will be the thing that kills me.

It lasts forever. Or maybe it only feels that way.

My back thumps to the ground, fortunately a drop of only a few inches, and I lay stunned as I struggle to believe I'm not dead. I blink my eyes open.

And I grin. "I did it."

Feet away, Rupert's blood soaks into a patch of grass, and high above me, standing in the center of the shattered window I jumped out of, is a tall, dark figure.

O'Brien.

I can't read his expression, but I can see the whites of his eyes. From his teeth glinting white, he has his mouth hanging open.

I can't blame him. He just watched me do the impossible.

But this is no time to relax.

I push myself to an upright position as he lifts something to his mouth. Probably a walky-talky. Had he thought I was dead?

After a jump like that, I should be.

I get up and start hobbling away from the factory and the pitch black, overgrown park on the other side of a twisted metal fence. I need to be near buildings with plenty of dark corners to tuck myself in. Any open space is an invitation for O'Brien or one of his men to take potshots at me from a distance.

So I hobble into the warren of old factories, dead buildings, and I move fast. Well, as fast as my screaming feet let me. My soles burn with every step, and I try not to think of how I'm pushing the shards of glass I stepped on deeper into my skin.

My face, stomach, and my arms burn from being slapped around by the tree I fell down.

I have no idea where I am.

Behind me, shouts ring out, growing louder as I hobble faster.

My life before the abduction never veered far from my home, my job, the restaurants Henry took me to, and the free heat clinic I went to ride out my heat.

Until the last time when my usual clinic was full and I made the life-changing mistake of venturing to one in another part of the city.

I pass an endless line of gray factories.

I'm lost. Worse, as I hobble-run, I leave a trail of bloody footprints in my wake.

Like a movie stuck on repeat, my mind flicks back to Rupert falling.

Again, I see his arms windmilling, his wide desperate eyes pleading for me to save him.

The crack of his head hitting the ground.

And the blood.

God, there was so much blood. Even after my suicidal leap, it was still leaking out of him. Makes my stomach gurgle and churn. Almost makes me forget about the pain as my bare feet slap concrete.

When my lungs burn as badly as my feet, I feel myself slowing as I struggle to keep my pace. I didn't get as big of a head start as I need, and I need a big one after two years spent being passed around by alphas. Freedom, when it came, had its limits. I was free to prowl around a walled garden or a room in a mansion.

Can you even call that freedom if it comes with all those conditions?

My side hurts and I press my fingers into the stitch, a sign I am badly, badly out of shape. The alphas who bought me ensured I ate enough to survive, not to thrive. And the only regular form of exercise I got was fighting off alphas. A fight I always lost.

My pace slows further. It's more of a lurching, wobbly walk than a run at this point.

I tell myself to think of alphas like Nathaniel and Rupert Lang, and of how I intend to destroy every single one of them.

But to do that, I need to survive tonight.

The pain gets so bad, I stop, rest my palm on the nearest brick wall and lift my foot to see if there are shards of glass in there. It feels like there might be. When I swipe my fingers over the soles, my fingers are sticky with blood and they hurt, but I can't find—or dig out—glass.

An alarm beeps somewhere behind me. My heart leaps in response.

I forget my burning feet and get back to my hobble run. I weave through the warrens of factories, passing abandoned cars. No one is around to wonder about the dark-haired omega in a stained white dress and bare feet hobbling through what must be the city's warehouse district.

"Just get through tonight." I make it my mantra.

I gasp it as I lurch and run, head down, my sole focus on the next step I have to take.

Lungs burning and stomach churning, I stumble into something and bounce off it. Nearly falling, I catch myself on the nearest wall as a brown paper bag flies out of a navy suited man's hand. Which is when I realize I'm no longer in the factory district.

I'm on a main street with people and traffic lights flickering around me.

Smash.

The man growls as only an alpha can, face twisted in rage. Just as suddenly, his nostrils flare as his fury melts away.

A split second. That's all it takes for this big alpha to take a good sniff and realize the woman who nearly tackled him to the floor is a thing all alphas crave.

He forgets about his bottle of red spilling across the sidewalk. His smile is confident. Assured. "Omega."

And his scent: a nose-wrinkling spicy ginger and cinnamon that is downright unpleasant.

I peek over my shoulder, confirm O'Brien and his men aren't right behind me, and step around the alpha I just bounced off.

I don't waste any words on him. He doesn't want to hear what I think of alphas. No one would. I hobble away from him, no idea where I'm going, just the need to get somewhere I can hide.

" Hey ! Where are you going? Come back here, gorgeous." His footsteps pursue me.

Where to go? Where to go?

I can't go home. If O'Brien and Nathaniel tracked me there, I'd be putting my family at risk.

And the Omega Institute? They'd be on the phone to Nathaniel the very second I took one step in there. As if someone like Nathaniel doesn't have friends in high places.

The Institute is as rotten as this city. All they care about is prettying omegas up and handing them to the wealthy alphas in the city. They don't care about us.

I need to be off the street.

" Hey !" A hand lands on my shoulder, grips and twists me around. "Where are you going?"

The dark suited alpha is still looking for an omega for a fun time tonight.

He can look elsewhere.

I scream in his face. Scream and scream like someone is gutting me.

He snatches his hand, backing up like he's afraid I'll infect him with my brand of crazy.

I'm attracting attention. Don't care. I stare right into his pale blue eyes and I scream even louder.

He must be in a fierce battle with biology to be sticking around this long. Does he convince the screaming omega to shut up or assume she's crazy and leave?

I spot the exact moment he realizes I'm not worth it.

And I'm not.

He's not worth it either because the only good alpha is a dead alpha.

He swings around.

I barely hear him mutter, "Crazy fucking bitch."

The moment he dips back into the liquor store to refresh his smashed red wine, I stop screaming, turn around, and resume hobbling down the road.

Risky? Yes.

Worth it to get out years of pain? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Eyes track me from both sides of the road. I lost one alpha. Until I get off the street, I'm at risk of running into more.

It takes half a block before I realize I'm near downtown with all the closed shops I'm passing. A taxi isn't an option. Even if I had cash, where would I go?

I need to be off the street, but where do I go?

As I hobble on, the roads get quieter as people head home for the evening. No one looks at me too long. No one cares. Tired suits just want to grab what they need for dinner from the grocery store. Dresses and snappier suits are too busy laughing, checking directions for their party on their cell phones as they weave past me.

I consider snatching one of their phones. I could call Mom and even…

No. Not yet. Can't go back to your life yet. You need to deal with the alphas in this city first.

I pass shutters and closed shops.

A news report is playing through the windows of an electrical store as I hobble past.

It's closed too, from the dark interior and the man at the counter probably cashing up.

I'm nearly past the store when five words penetrate my desperate, frantic thoughts.

"No alphas can enter. Ever ."

I stop.

Backing up two steps, I swivel my head to the TV in the window. The owner or sales assistant is looking at me, probably wondering at my white dress and ripped sleeve.

I press my nose to the window. I watch and I listen to what looks like a recording.

The three alphas are standing at a lectern, talking about a free heat clinic—the only one in the city—that denies entrance to all alphas, even them, and they own it.

Ever Safe.

Two minutes.

That's how long it takes to learn everything I need to.

Pack Ashe, billionaire investors, gave up their business to start their own free heat clinics. I'm downtown, probably streets away from their now open location.

I don't trust it. Not the clinic. And not an alpha's promise.

But I need to not be on the street and right now, I'm close to one place I can buy myself a few hours of privacy. All I have to do is say my heat is coming.

Dare I risk it?

Movement pulls my attention back the way I came. Dark suited alpha is holding a brown paper bag as he talks with two men in black combats, tees, and steel boots. He's probably telling them all about the insane omega in a nightdress who just screamed in his face.

Can't tell if it's O'Brien or the other guards, but only they wore black like that.

I think of that downtown free heat clinic… Ever Safe, and I think, yes, I dare risk it.

It would be stupid not to risk it.

Head down, I hobble on with no idea where I'm going. It's not like there were any instructions about where this free heat clinic is, so I hope to hell I'm not going in the wrong direction.

Either the universe suddenly decides it likes me, or something else is at play, but I turn a street corner and suddenly it's right there. Brightly lit, in all its red-bricked, brand spanking new building glory, on the other side of the road. It even has a sign at the top so big I couldn't miss it.

Ever Safe.

I'm poised to run when a black truck with tinted windows swerves in front of me, the back door swings open, and a man steps out, blocking my view of Ever Safe.

It's one of Nathaniel's security men. Not O'Brien. This guy is a redhead and younger, with a nasty twist to his lips. O'Brien is probably back at the factory, scraping Rupert's body off the ground or calling Nathaniel back from his gala.

That's good.

O'Brien wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in my brain after what I just did.

Another man slips out of the front seat, leaving the engine running. This man has shaved dark hair and a full-length tattoo from wrist to neck. As he steps out of the driver's side, he immediately reaches for a gun tucked into a leather holster.

I back up.

I can't go back the way I came and risk running into the two men speaking to the red wine alpha.

They train unblinking stares on me as I keep backing up. Slipping past them isn't an option with the way they're coming at me head on.

Please don't let me be walking into a dead end.

A handful of steps down the foul-smelling alley and it hits me that I've just made a mistake. Perhaps a life ending one.

I bump into a brick wall, leaving nowhere to go.

There's even a dumpster handy for them to stash my body.

Swallowing my terror, I stiffen my spine and clench my hands into fists. But I won't be punching or hitting anyone. Those guns mean this can only end one of two ways. Back in my cell or a bullet in my brain.

You fight to the end, Resa. You never stop fighting.

"I'm not going back."

The redhead smiles as he cocks his gun. "Who said anything about taking you back?"