CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Something tickled Mir’s face, and they spiraled up out of the sedation. Wrong, something was very wrong. Their barely conscious mind tried to grasp the problem. It was warm and comfortable but… No Tavish. They frowned and inched closer to consciousness as they concentrated on the one sense they could always rely on. Mir couldn’t detect his scent at all, not even a lingering echo. Instead… Mir could smell a strange beta and lots of disinfectant. The pillow under their cheek, as they lay on their side, smelled like…

Hell, I’m back in—

A whimper escaped. Mir’s lower hand clutched for their belly, expecting the saggy softness that meant.... Feeling the hard swell of their pregnant belly under cotton and without the scent of blood, sent dizziness swirling. They hadn’t taken them, not yet anyway.

“Easy there, Mirelle. You’re safe; I’ve got you.” The voice was vaguely familiar. Mir opened their eyes. Wearing a soft, sad smile, a beta gazed at them from a leather, wipe-clean chair beside the bed, having just sat back. It’d been their fingers brushing back Mir’s hair. Mir’s eyes were level with the beta’s chest, and folded down silver bed bars sneaked into the bottom of their field of vision. A hospital bed, but the pale green wall behind the beta’s head held some sort of painting, with indistinct swirls and blobs of green and brown. Trees maybe. There weren’t any paintings in the medical facility under Hell, and the walls were white, not green.

Not Hell.

Squinting, Mir tried to place the beta. Their scent caused vague anger and sadness but not the visceral hatred that constantly bubbled for the betas in Hell. Waiting until their mind cleared a little more—and it would if they hadn’t been given a long-acting drug—seemed the best course of action. They certainly couldn’t run without hurting the babies while this dizzy. This beta was about the same size as Mir, and they was alone as far as Mir could tell. That didn’t mean the door Mir could see over the beta’s shoulder was unlocked or didn’t hide more, far stronger, people.

“They said you’d sleep for at least a few more hours, but they don’t know how determined you are, not like I do.”

The beta smiled gently and reached for Mir’s hand. Mir pulled it away, but only a few inches as pain flared in their upper arm. They suppressed the urge to look at the limb. Pain of that intensity wasn’t important. Keeping an eye on a potential threat took priority. Mir moved their legs a little, confirming that, like their arms, they weren’t bound.

The beta’s smile faltered and then returned, but it seemed sadder. “I can’t believe we finally found you.”

The voice sparked a memory far more than the words or the blurry face. It couldn’t be… could it? The last few moments before they’d passed out pushed into Mir’s head. They’d given their full omega name to that officer.

“I’m just going to open the curtain a little more, ok?”

What did they expect, a thumbs up?Mir watched as the beta stood up and moved, almost comically slowly past the foot of the bed. Mir hadn’t looked in that direction yet, but they tucked their chin in to keep the beta in sight. The rest of their body still felt asleep and turning over definitely seemed too complex a task right now.

“Watch your eyes, it’s bright out there.”

Mir kept their gaze fixed on them, not even daring to blink. Metal scraped on metal, and light flooded the room as the beta drew back the heavy moss-green curtain. Blue sky, nothing else. Wherever they were, it was several floors up.

As the beta returned to their seat, still keeping their distance, Mir blinked and peered at the beta rather than using their other senses. The natural light revealed sandy blond hair tied at the nape of the beta’s neck—hair that still reeked of sunshine—intense green eyes, and a smattering of freckles over their nose and cheeks. From a scary stranger, the beta morphed into an even more unnerving, half-familiar figure.

The twins might have been identical to everyone else as children, but Mir had always been able to tell them apart. Cor’s freckles were a little darker and larger, and they had always been a little more volatile and social than their twin.

“Tor?” Mir’s voice cracked.

Mir’s little sibling was now a mature beta, who, judging by the expression in their eyes, had seen a lot of things, and not all of them pleasant. Toren had certainly changed from the crafty, skinny ten-year-old they’d been the last time Mir saw them. Then again, so had Mir.

“It’s Toren now. Surprised to see me? Well, you can’t be half as surprised as I was to be dragged out of my office yesterday with the news that you’d collapsed into a police officer’s arms fifteen miles away. Want to tell your little sib where you’ve been for the last eight years and how you got in this state?”

Straight to investigating.

Disappointment swelled in Mir’s throat like a balloon, cutting off hope like air. Toren, probably Corish too, didn’t actually care about them. They cared about their crusade against alphas who ill-treated omegas, and their sister was the poster omega for that. If a photo of Mir had existed, they bet their image would have been on every advert and newspaper article the pair could manage. And if that had happened, Mir would have been quietly killed. An omega in Hell who couldn’t be rented by the hour to patrons was just an inconvenience.

Mir blinked, swallowing down bitterness just as strong as the last time they saw their little sib. Tavish had been right. While they was with their siblings, the babies would only be safe until they were born. Mir had no doubt that Tor and Cor would pursue the legal angle, and that meant DNA testing the triplets to find and then prosecute the sire or sires, no matter what Mir wanted.

If they lost the case in court, as Corish was Mir’s legal guardian, Mir could be safe, but the babies would be returned to their sires unless the fuckers gave up their legal rights. Mir had zero faith in a legal system that never provided any of the omegas in Hell an ounce of protection.

Protection had come in the form of a big, bookish alpha and a pony farm in the far reaches of Malthusia. Mir wanted to be back there so much it hurt. The first step to back there had to be discovering the location of here.

“Where am I?”

“In a private room in the general hospital in Malthus City.”

Mir stiffened, panic clutching at their chest at the thought of more doctors. The scent of omega fear clouded the air. The doctor who had given them the manifestation shot had been part of a council vaccination program—they was part of the establishment—and this was the biggest and the only training hospital in Malthusia. The evil fucker who gave Mir that shot and took Mir’s babies had at least trained here. They could be just down the corridor.

There was only one doctor they trusted, and right now, Mir didn’t trust him either. Tavish hadn’t been Tavish at all when they last saw him. Mir shivered at the mindless snarl that had been on the face they loved so much. But musth didn’t last forever, just like omega heats. Widening their eyes to help fight off the last of the sedation, Mir tried to concentrate on what Tor was saying.

“Corish is outside the door. Don’t worry, no one is getting in here without our say-so.”

“No doctors.”

Tor frowned. It reminded Mir so much of the little boy who sulked about having a bath that Mir’s eyes prickled.

Where did those three innocent, happy siblings go?

“I’m not promising anything, but I’ll stay with you all the time if that’s what you want?”

The hand under the blanket hadn’t left the swell of their belly. But the thought of that white-coat-wearing fucker had the hand above the blanket cradling the babies within too. The movement caused a tug on their arm, and Mir’s gaze followed the thin, clear tube exiting their elbow below a crisp white bandage. The tube snaked up to a half-full bag of clear fluid hanging from a stand. Mir shifted onto their back to free their other arm and ripped out the drip, before Toren could grab their hand. The sharp sting shot them back to full awareness.

Tor sat back on the uncomfortable wooden chair they’d drawn close to the bed. “Mirelle, that was for your own good.”

“No drips or drugs either,” they ground out as they rolled back onto their side to face him. Tavish said laying on their back wasn’t good for the babies.

Blond eyebrows drew together in the disappointed, exasperated expression Mir expected. “Mirelle, that was only saline and glucose. You’re dehydrated, and for the good of—”

“My name is Mir, just as it always was. If you don’t like it, fuck off, or I will.”

Toren blinked as if Mir had slapped them across the face. “Ok. If that makes you more comfortable, Mir it is.”

Mir gave them a sarcastic smile. “Why, thank you so much, little sib.”

“But I’m going to have to call someone. Your arm is bleeding.”

They glanced at the small trickle. “Seriously? You think that needs a medical professional? What happened to the pup who refused to wear clothes and played in the dirt all day?”

“That was Cor, but he grew up. So did I.”

Mir tuned out their sibling. The trickle of blood from the cannula site didn’t stop them from touching their belly, just to reassure themselves that the triplets were still safe inside. As they’d done in Hell, Mir spoke to the babies silently.

It’s ok, you’re fine. But you were scared when all that shit happened, huh? Your Untie Toren sounds like a bit of an idiot, but they mean well. What do you think? Do you want to meet them?

With three babies in there, Mir expected at least one kick in reply, but there was nothing. Their nerves tensed as it dawned that there had been no movements since they’d woken up.

Tor had seen the doctor who had examined them, treated their arm. Tor would know how the babies were.

Wait or ask if they’re ok? Mir hated that anyone, even this long-lost sibling they didn’t know, no matter what their nose told them, knew something so important that they didn’t.

Cowardice told them to wait. The truth would reveal itself in time. If the worst had happened—Mir’s eyes welled at the thought of going through all this only to lose the babies before they took their first breath—knowing now wouldn’t change the outcome. And I can hang on to the illusion that they’re just resting or sleeping for a bit longer.

But Mir had never been a coward, not unless their stupid omega hormones were fucking with them.

“Are they alright?” Their voice came out a little rough with suppressed emotion.

Tor’s hand came to rest over Mir’s, pain in their eyes. This time, Mir didn’t evade the skin-to-skin contact. Even though they wanted Tavish, not this beta they didn’t know anymore, they needed a human connection.

“All three of them are fine, which is more than I can say for you.” Mir took a shuddering breath, but Tor carried on talking. Mir latched onto their words instead of letting the tsunami of relief turn them into a blubbering mess. “The bullet wound in your arm isn’t serious, and it’s been cleaned and sewn up, but you lost quite a lot of blood. That’s why you passed out. The doctor was amazed you made it as far as you did.”

“Yeah, well, even omegas can do shit when they have to. We aren’t all weak and stupid, however much our relatives think we are.”

The jibe at what their sire, Mir still didn’t want to think of Makish as their father, had told the twins back when Mir manifested clearly hit a nerve as Toren’s jaw clenched before carrying on.

“That was a long time ago, and we know better now. You are on the top of our list of priorities, just as you have been since the day you ran away from home.”

“Home? It stopped being my home the moment I manifested. You might not remember clearly, but even though I was—” Mir clamped their lips together. They needed to focus on the future, not wallow in their shitty past. “Go on. You’re right. Dwelling on that won’t help anyone.”

“It turns out that we’re all the same blood type. I donated some of the red stuff for you. Corish offered too, but apparently, alpha blood in pregnant omegas doesn’t work too well. That’s why you were on the glucose and rehydration fluid drip. Seems that three babies need a lot of energy and fluid replacement.”

Mir concentrated inside themself, hoping with everything they had that they’d feel the babies move and prove their sibling right. Being lied to in order to keep them compliant was a tactic alphas and betas employed almost by default.

Toren looked even more pained as if they didn’t want to speak because whatever they had to say would devastate at least one of them.

“Who’s dead?” Mir asked. “Because if that expression is because Makish died in a gutter, he deserved it.”

Toren’s jaw tightened. “Both Corish and Pa are alive.” Toren watched Mir intently, then stated, “You knew he alphaed.”

Mir blinked. They had nothing to say.

“What happened to you, sis? The doctor said you’re covered in scars going back years. They also said that up until a few months ago, you were taking a lot of drugs. They did a hair analysis and...” he paused and then continued, “And that this isn’t your first pregnancy. What about your other babies? Where are they?”

Mir pulled their hand away and laboriously rolled over to face the opposite direction. What right did they have to perform a drug test on me without asking? What right did they have to know anything after what they did?

Keeping quiet about what had happened after Mir climbed out that bathroom window was a double-edged sword. Mir couldn’t mention Tavish without giving the game away. If he was able, he’d track them down—his whacked-out hormones wouldn’t let him do anything else—but maybe it would be better for him if they didn’t see each other.

Tavish was back in the arms of his family, and he deserved to be there, not hiding out in the back of beyond because of Mir. The reasons for his move to Freedom Farm no longer existed. His family knew he’d manifested, and he didn’t want to return to beta status.

They’d line him up with an omega who would fit with the lifestyle he’d been born to, and he’d be happy and forget. Mir swallowed down the lump in their throat. Strong, gotta be strong.

Besides, even if he did want them back, he didn’t have any legal right to Mir or the babies. If Corish didn’t grant him access, even if Mir and Tavish wanted to see each other, it wouldn’t happen.

The thought of never seeing his face or cuddling up with him at night, surrounded by his protective arms and scent, caused tears to prickle their eyes. Why has everything gone to shit?

They’d been so happy up there when it had just been the two of them. They had expected an idyllic future with Tav and the pups. Now, neither Mir nor the triplets could ever go back. A tear escaped and trickled down their face, and Mir didn’t even curse their stupid omega hormones.

“Didn’t they make it? Or did they get taken by their sire?” Toren’s voice cracked with emotion as they rubbed Mir’s back. Maybe Tor cared, after all. They certainly smelled distressed, but that could be guilt.

To shut out the world, their sibling’s pointless emotions, and the terror of being surrounded and captured again, Mir pulled the blanket over their head and breathed in their pregnant scent, despite the strong tinge of fear. One of the babies moved, and Mir’s silent tears turned into sobs of relief.

Where the fuck would these three innocents end up now?

Toren’s chair creaked a little as they got up and came around the bed, but the beta didn’t attempt to pull the blanket away. A hand landed on Mir’s blanket-covered shoulder.

“We’ll figure this all out, don’t worry. You’re not alone anymore.”

Mir huffed out a laugh at Tor’s utter stupidity. “You think being alone caused all this?”

The door opened without a knock, and heavy footsteps entering the room raised the hairs on Mir’s nape. The scent of a strange alpha hit Mir, and they thrust the blanket off and almost fell off the bed as they turned to face the new threat. Pain lanced through their wounded arm at the abrupt movement, but there was no way Mir would let a strange alpha sneak up on them. Toren stayed in front of them, providing a shield from the newcomer. Just because it wasn’t an alpha Mir recognized, it didn’t mean he didn’t work for Sakish.

Nevertheless, Mir kept their eyes downcast; there was no need to unnecessarily provoke an alpha. The chances of getting away if he attacked were minuscule, especially if Tor was on his side, but crappy odds had never stopped Mir fighting before. Even the bookish Tav had fought for them and their pups, and he’d lost too, judging by the glimpse they’d caught as they galloped past. It looked like Mir’s crappy luck had extended to Tavish too. Fuck they was tired of losing, again and again, but Mir couldn’t give up, not now the babies were so close.

“Get out; you’re scaring the shit out of her,” Toren growled, not bothering to see who had entered.

Blood pulsed in Mir’s temples as their eyes searched their surroundings. The view of nothing but sky from the window meant it probably wouldn’t work as an escape route. That left the door where the alpha had entered. Plus, they had bedsheets, the solid metal bedframe, the IV stand, and the blood covered needle they’d pulled from their arm. They had far more resources to work with than they’d ever had in Hell. Gritting their teeth, they lay still, but curled their fingers around the clear tube, and worked them toward the wings of the cannula. With the plastic in their palm and the needle sticking out between their fingers, Mir’s heart raced, but in anticipation rather than pure terror. He might be here to take them back, but a needle in the eye would be a surprise this fucker would never forget.

“And you’re not? She’s shaking for Christ’s sake. Mir never shook.” The frustration in the alpha’s voice blazed.

“Have you seen the medical report? That person doesn’t exist anymore,” Toren snapped back.

“You don’t have to be frightened of me, Mirelle, it’s me, Cor.”

Cor. The name bounced around their head like a pinball, reconnecting memories that hadn’t surfaced for decades. Cor? My Cor? They stole a cautious sniff. Yes, there was a hint of familiarity, but not only was Cor an adult now, he’d alphaed.

“She likes Mir,” Toren told his alpha sibling, but it seemed more like an order. Booted feet shuffled.

No orders, no grabbing. Mir’s grip on the needle relaxed a fraction. This alpha, their sibling, didn’t seem like an immediate threat. But they was still ready, just in case.

“Mir, I’m so sorry for what I said, for what I didn’t do back then. Pa was so wrong, and we didn’t know any different. If I could turn the clock back… We’ve been searching for you ever since. What happened to you?”

“You think I haven’t asked her all that? I’m a professional investigator, remember? Even if I haven’t got balls, I’m not an idiot any more than Mir is. We got as far as establishing that these babies are fine, but she started crying and hid when I mentioned her other pregnancies.”

“And you’re meant to be the sensitive one? Next time, we do things my way.”

“Next time? There isn’t going to be a next time, not if you use those balls of yours and protect her like she did us when we were kids. Mir never gave up on us, and I, for one, am not going to let her down again.”

Mir’s siblings appeared to have forgotten they was even there as they bickered, almost like the pups they’d been. But every time one of them used an omega pronoun, it was a little spike of pain, like getting stuck with another needle. Nevertheless, hearing them argue moved their anxiety level down a notch. The urge to stab either one of them in the eye waned, but Mir kept hold of the needle. There were doctors here.

If Tavish had been here, Mir would have told him level five. These two really were Mir’s not-so-little siblings, but it didn’t mean that they wouldn’t hurt or manipulate Mir, for their own good, of course. Even though they’d asked Toren to call them Mir, it was clear they no longer thought of them like that. Mir no longer held their respect, just their pity.

“Come on, Mir, it’s just Cor. Yes, he’s bigger and a bit smellier, and he’s grown out of chasing chickens naked and barking, but it’s still him.” Mir tilted their head up just enough to see their brother’s face without eyeballing him.

Corish had changed far more than Toren. He was taller than his sibling, and his body had widened. Looking up at him when they were both standing would be damn odd, but Mir thought they might still be taller than Toren. Mir’s brother wore his hair cropped short to his scalp, giving him a far meaner appearance than Tor, and his chin hid behind a short, neat beard.

It should have been me.

Mir thought they’d grown out of the visceral disappointment of having their future stolen by that smug, evil doctor, but here it was again, slapping them upside the head and squeezing their non-existent balls. If Mir had alphaed, the chances of another member of their tiny family doing the same was minute. The Reeves weren’t Grabars; they didn’t have dozens of fawning betas hanging on their every word and presenting their asses to be filled.

Corish moved closer but squatted down beside the bed so he didn’t loom over Mir. They were treating them like a skittish dog, one that would piss itself if cornered or run off a cliff in panic.

Their jaw tensed at their siblings’ assumptions.

I’m not like that. I wasn’t then, and I’m not now. I’m a natural proto-alpha. Tor’s a beta, and Cor should have been a beta too. Their fist clenched around the needle again. Maybe their sibs needed to be reminded of who they were dealing with. Mir hadn’t punched either of their little sibs before, but these two were no longer little. As they’d found with Clay, a decent punch could really wake up an arrogant beta.

“You’re safe now, and you have a home with Tor and I forever. We’ll look after you and these babies.” The serious expression on his broad, alpha face yelled his conviction. As they looked into that confident face, Mir wondered if it was balls that produced that attitude or if it was because ninety percent of the population automatically deferred to alphas.

“We’ve got a nice place, right here in the city. We haven’t lived with Pa for years, and I’m your legal guardian. You don’t have to worry about him selling you ever again. Thanks to the tutors you paid for, I got my law degree, and Cor is a private investigator in the field of omega rights. We live well and have plenty of space in our home for you and the little ones.”

It sounded like a closing argument in court, a last plea for a client, but their offer was a possibility that Mir would have jumped at this time last year. But it paled in comparison to living with Tavish in the middle of nowhere. It might even work until Corish got himself an omega. Mir tuned back in as they realized their brother still spoke.

“And we’ll prosecute the bastard who did this to you to the end of the law. The Grabars don’t frighten us; we’ve taken down bigger fish than them before. They can’t get away with treating you, or any other omega, like this.”

“What did they say?” The question was out of Mir’s mouth before they remembered they wasn’t going to talk about anything that’d happened before waking up here.

A grin lit Corish’s face because they’d spoken to him, but Mir didn’t return the smile. Watching the almost familiar alpha with distant, muffled curiosity, they wondered if he’d feel the same way if he knew how many times they’d had to chase him around the farm after he’d managed to shed his kilt. Cor had always been an exhibitionist, and it seemed that had followed him into adulthood as he now spent his time strutting his stuff in front of a court.

Despite the shared surname and distant memories, some of the guards in Hell knew Mir better than their own blood. Tor had been right when they said the Mir of the past didn’t exist anymore, but the twins they’d known were also only memories. The confident alpha smiling at them wasn’t Mir’s Cor; Corish had his own agenda, and so did his beta twin.

Toren answered after shooting his brother an exasperated look. “Nothing, except that you stole a horse. It’s bullshit; we know it, and they know it. Do they have any more omegas there? Just say the word, and we’ll get a warrant and raid the place.”

Mir kept their lips firmly closed, and their siblings glanced at each other.

“I know that look,” Toren told his brother.

“Me too, she isn’t going to say a thing, is she?”

Heat flushed through their body at the hated pronoun. “She still goes by they/them. Can we go now? I don’t like doctors or medical rooms.”

The pair held each other’s gaze for a moment, communicating in that odd silent way twins did sometimes, then turned their attention back to Mir.

“Sure we can, after the doctor has checked you out. You’ve been out of it for a while. I’ll get them,” Corish said and made for the door.

“No, no, thank you. I’m fine. I’d prefer to leave now.”

“Mirelle,” Corish started. Mir glared at them. “Sorry, Mir. I am trying. It’s just tricky, as I’ve used the other version of your name in my head for a long time. But whatever name or pronoun you prefer, you need to be seen by a doctor before you’re discharged,” Corish announced as if Mir was a complete airhead.

A new strategy came to mind, one that these two, having known Mir as a teen, just might believe. It would certainly get them off their back and out of the hospital where Tavish had spent many years working. Throwing him under the bus felt damn disloyal, but he wasn’t the only one with contacts in this hospital.

The thought of Sakish, or the doctor from Hell, walking in that door had fear bubbling up Mir’s throat, but as always, focusing on offense kept it at bay.

Mir pushed themselves up to a seating position, using the pain in their injured arm to combat the clawing fear, and hung their legs over the side of the bed. “I’m leaving, end of story. One of the Grabars used to be the head of the omega medicine department here, and he will still have contacts. If they don’t know where I am already, they will soon.

“So, if you two feel the need to hold me down so some stranger can molest me again, I suggest you get ready for a fight because I’ve picked up a few more tricks as well as the ones Makish taught me. And no, I don’t consider him my Pa, because parents love their children. They don’t sell them for a case of fucking whiskey. And yeah, I know all about that.

“I might look a bit different, just like you two do, but up here,” Mir poked their temple so hard it hurt, “I’m still the vicious shit I was last time we were together, and I’ll fight just like I’ve done for the last eight years. You’re both stronger than I am, and I’ll probably get a few more bruises. But as you’ve probably worked out, because I bloody well know you two sneaked a look when I was out, I’m used to getting to them and a hell of a lot more. Now, where are my clothes? Because I’ll walk out of here stark naked if I have to.”

“We got here after you were admitted. The police sent an ambulance. One of the constables who rode along with it, the one whose arms you fell into, came and got us. We haven’t seen…” Toren said quietly, not meeting their gaze.

Mir closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and considered their options. They’d probably see the scars eventually, and as they were still reeling from the shock of finding their long-lost sibling, they might as well know as much as Mir was ever going to tell them from the start. Besides, anger had always been a far easier emotion to deal with than fear, and at the moment, fear, gut-wrenching—crouch on the floor and shake—fear, banged on the door of Mir’s mind with both fists.

Mir dropped the needle and held up their wrist. “Do you know what this is? It’s a manacle scar,” Mir spat at them then pulled up the short sleeve of the green hospital gown. “These are track marks where they dosed me up with sedatives to stop me fighting.”

It took a little more effort to untie the ties on the hospital gown.

“Mir, we don’t need to see—” Corish blurted, as if he’d never seen an omega’s body before. Mir bet he hadn’t seen one like this.

“Yes, you damn well do.” Mir pushed the gown off their shoulders and held it on the curve of their ass. “Those are from being lashed, caned, and cut with knives, although I’ve never been shot before, so that’s a new one. The ones on my hips are from heat hormone implants inserted by a fully qualified doctor who must have trained here. They was the shit who gave me the shot that forced my manifestation and aborted all but one of my other pregnancies. Those ones were taken away at birth. I never saw them, and if they’re alive rather than medical waste after being fucking dissected, I’m the head of the fucking council.” Mir pulled the gown back up and stood up, facing them defiantly, tears streaming down their face that they didn’t bother to wipe away. “So, are you going to help me leave without seeing yet another doctor? Or am I doing it alone, just like before?”

Toren stepped forward, with tears in their own eyes, and wrapped Mir in their arms. Tor wasn’t any taller than Mir, but he felt and smelled safe. When Corish tried to do the same from behind, their body reacted to an alpha who wasn’t their mate.

Throwing themself sideways, Mir landed on the floor and scuttled away until their back hit the wall. They slung one arm over their head and the other around their belly.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I won’t touch you, I promise, and we’ll get you out of here. I’ll move into a hotel or something until you’re…. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’ll go. Look after her, fuck, them…” Corish sounded as if his heart was being ripped out, just like Tavish had every time Mir did this. Exhaustion washed over them. When the fuck would this stop?

“Stay.” They sounded resigned, defeated.

“No, that won’t do you any good. I clearly scare the shit out of you.”

Mir lifted their head. Corish’s fists were clenched, his body tight with visceral distress. He didn’t deserve to feel this way. The twins had only been children, confused children, the last time they’d been together. They couldn’t have done anything against Makish, even if they’d wanted to. They would have ended up getting hurt, and the chances of them both manifesting as omegas would have increased.

Tavish’s words came back. “Nothing that happened was your fault.” Well, it hadn’t been Tor and Cor’s fault either.

“No, no, you don’t, Cor. They scared the shit out of me, it wasn’t you. You just surprised me, that’s all. I promise it’ll happen less and less as time goes by and I get more used to you, but I’m fucked up, and I probably always will be.” Mir cradled their belly. “These three need stability, and the sooner I get used to your scent, of being around you, the quicker the panic attacks will fade; it did with…” Mir stopped speaking abruptly lips firmly sealed.

Using Tavish’s status as leverage against Tor and Cor was wrong but getting him even more involved than he was already would be a betrayal. Keeping an omega from their legal guardian was an offense, and the thought of Tavish in the dock of a court, with Corish prosecuting him, turned Mir’s belly.

“Somebody rescued you, didn’t they? Who was it, the sire of your babies? But if you were being looked after, why did you run again?” Toren asked.

“Was the doctor who did all this Taven Grabar?” Corish pressed. Mir’s gaze shot to their alpha brother.

The twins were as much of a double act as they’d been as pups, trying to wear down Mir’s resolve, but this wasn’t about extra cookies after dinner, and them trying the same tactic irritated the fuck out of them. Pulling the hospital gown around them, they realized they’d dropped their weapon, and being on the floor was damn stupid. They were Mir’s little sibs for fuck’s sake. They’d believed everything Mir had told them as pups, and they would again now.

Lifting their chin, they looked Toren in the eyes, as Corish’s beard just didn’t seem… right. That was it; it was odd, not scary. Mir wasn’t scared of their little sib, not then, not now, not ever.

“I’ve never met anyone called Taven Grabar, and don’t you ever get fed up with asking questions?” Mir scowled at him.

Toren chuckled, a deeper sound than Mir remembered. “I think that’s another “you have to learn to live with it,” thing. They’ll tell us when they’re ready, if they ever are, and we’ll cope with that. Getting you back, having you safe,” they met their twin’s eyes and tipped their chin up, “that’s far more important than anything else. We’re here for you Mir, just like we should have been back then. But I’m afraid I can’t promise no more questions, although you don’t have to answer. Remember, we’re both nosey fuckers.”

“You think I need permission to not spill every sordid, little—” Mir pressed their lips together.

“No, sibby, we don’t,” Toren’s soft voice oozed compassion. “We just don’t want you to feel like keeping things to yourself is going to be a problem.”

Mir took a cleaning breath, feeling a little lighter, and nodded.

Toren’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Come on family, let’s go home before visiting time starts.”

“Agreed,” Corish added. “Now, let’s get you a wheelchair so we can get out of here.”

Mir gave the alpha a glare that would have withered the pup he’d been. Now, he just raised his eyebrows. “What? Your clothes are covered in blood. Unless you want to walk around in a hospital gown with your butt hanging out, being in a wheelchair with a blanket will cover you up. But you might want to do something about that.” Cor nodded toward the trickle of now dried blood on Mir’s forearm.

Mir glanced at the minor wound. “For someone who grew up on a farm, you sure are squeamish.”

Cor shrugged. “I never did any of the icky stuff. Pa took over all that after you left, while I hit the books.”

That hurt. A lot. “Well, it was a shame he didn’t do it when I was little too. I might have a reading age of over seven if he had.”

Mir’s sibs glanced at each other. “We can get you a tutor when you’re home,” Corish said.

“Or we can teach you ourselves,” Tor replied, looking daggers at their brother. Mir snorted at the irony of the circle their life had taken. Silence became a fourth person in the room.

“I’ll erm—” Corish twitched his thumb toward the corridor “—go get a chair and tell the police officer we’re leaving. They have our address if…. They have our address.”

The noise from the corridor as Corish left the room made Mir wince, so they slipped into the bathroom, blanket tight around their shoulders.

After using the toilet and carefully washing away the dried blood without disturbing the wound, Mir took a breath and looked in the mirror. It was a very different face to the one they’d seen the first time they’d dared to look at themselves after escaping Hell. Yeah, that face was still damn pale, but now they had a healthy tan, and their eyes were bright.

All because of Tavish. Not detecting his scent hit Mir again. Where the hell is he?

Hopefully, he’d turn up at Tor and Cor’s home sooner rather than later, if he wasn’t locked up for attacking his brother. From the quick glance Mir had taken as they rode past, there hadn’t been any physical damage, just a lot of roaring and shouting. The only blood spilled had been caused by Mir punching Daven’s nose.

Even if Tavish didn’t have their address, Mir bet an old colleague would tell him where the Reeve siblings lived, even if the police didn’t.

It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. In a few days, we’ll both be back on Freedom Farm, and Tor and Cor can visit. Mir met their own eyes in the mirror.

“You can do this.” The big-ass omega looking back didn’t seem to be that confident. Straightening up, Mir glared at the wimp in the mirror. “That’s better.”

They opened the door and marched out. Corish stood by the door, and Toren had their hands on the handles of a wheeled version of the padded patient chair beside the bed. The visual reminder of their weakness rubbed them the wrong way but walking down the corridor with their ass hanging out would be even worse.

As if sensing their reluctance, Toren swept their arm down, indicating the chair that already had a blanket on it. “Your carriage awaits.”

“I’ve sent the officer to flag down a cab,” Corish added. Even as pup, Cor always wanted others to acknowledge his achievements. “We’re good to go. Straight down the corridor to the elevator, down three floors, and we’re free.”

Climbing into a wheelchair felt damn silly, but having people underestimate them had been a successful strategy in Hell until the alphas and betas worked it out.

Mir focused on the door of the hospital room and took a deep breath. People were out there. Footsteps passed on the other side of the door several times a minute, usually without accompanying conversations. Some of the footfalls were purposeful, others were slow and faltering. They guessed staff and visitors hurrying and patients struggling with exercise.

How many were alphas, betas, or omegas? Not that it made a huge difference. Meeting anyone wound Mir’s nerves tight, but they’d have to run the gauntlet to get out of here, and they’d already been here for too long.

“Let’s go.”

Corish opened the door, poked his head out, announced, “All clear,” and held the door while Tor guided Mir out.

Corish’s idea of ‘all clear’ was patently different from Mir’s. A beta orderly held an omega’s elbow as she took painfully slow steps with one hand on the polished wooden rail that ran the length of the corridor. Right next door to Mir’s room were open double doors that led to a ward with four beds, all occupied by omegas. Two were sitting up and gazed at Mir curiously.

Mir tried not to clench their hands into fists and focused on the end of the corridor where the gray metal doors of an elevator sang a siren song.

“Leaving already?” The cheerful beta voice from behind them sent Mir’s pulse racing. It hiked even more when Toren stopped pushing the chair but with Corish beside them, they didn’t turn around.

“Yep. We’re all done here, Reverend, but we are on a schedule, so if you’ll excuse us…” Corish lay his hand on Mir’s shoulder as if claiming them.

The young priest dressed in a long black robe stepped into Mir’s field of vison and gave them a honeyed smile. “Surely a blessing for a safe birth before you go?”

Mir had never put much store in religion, but their prayers for deliverance from Hell had eventually paid off. They looked up at the latest alpha to have ultimate power over them. “Couldn’t hurt, right?”

The twins shared a glance. “We’ll wait over here,” Toren said, and they moved to the other side of the corridor.

Mir gave the priest an awkward smile. “I… I’ve never gotten a blessing before. How does it work?”

“A simple laying on of hands, a few words, that’s all.”

Mir straightened in their chair. “Ok, go for it.”

The priest moved beside the chair, between Mir and their siblings. “Close your eyes and think of the Lord.” The priest’s voice was calm and gentle. Mir complied.

Three fingers lightly touched Mir’s forehead; they’d been expecting that, but when fingers settled on their belly too, they twitched a little.

“You want the babies blessed too, right.”

Mir pushed down the panic being this close to a strange beta caused, but they was a priest. “Yeah, I mean yes, please.”

“May the Almighty protect this omega and the babies within her.” The priest leaned in so close that Mir could feel their breath on their forehead, then dry lips pressed against their skin.

“And they will, as long as you keep your mouth shut about the past.”

The priest was upright and walking away before Mir had a chance to process what they’d said. The air clouded with scent of fear as the hair rose on the back of their neck. Their legs shook with the urge to find a weapon and a locked door.

“Mir? Are you ok? Do you want a doctor?”

They did, but not one from here. “That was just a bit closer than I expected, that’s all.” They sounded like a damn mouse, so they attempted a smile and strengthened their tone. “I just want to get out of here.”

“Your wish is our command, Onward.” Corish swept his arm in a grand gesture toward the elevator.

As they continued down the corridor, Mir’s mind whirled. Did this mean Sakish was letting them go, wouldn’t pursue them, as long as Mir kept quiet? Or was it just another ruse to manipulate? Whatever the case, Sakish had proved he had a lot of contacts in a lot of places. Their mind stuttered as they realized the threat didn’t just include the babies now, every Reeve sibling was at risk.

Impotent in the chair, Mir decided their first action, when they got to their siblings’ home, would be to secure a weapon. If someone wanted to come for one of the Reeve siblings or the babies, they’d face more of a fight than they ever imagined.