Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

FREYA

I 'm clean. Not a trace of stickiness from all the slick I produced on command from a beta.

They drug us to move us from our basement to the experimentation rooms. It's been the same one four times now. Kate says there are a few other torture chambers they have tested on her and her mates over the years, but they usually just use the main one.

It has all the best devices, after all.

The second time I learned that even if I don't make a sound, or flinch when Ken makes those awful people hurt my guys, it can only take one lip wobble or a single teardrop.

It wasn't the pain they inflicted on my pack that caused my moment of weakness; it was the fan they used to blow their scents toward me. As soon as I caught the mouthwatering notes of my mates, a yearning built so strong inside of me and my omega that I couldn't control myself.

And that's what this is about. Control. In order for someone other than my mates to control me, I have to control my omega, and Ken has figured out the right buttons to push.

Hurting my mates .

The doctor 's ultimate goal is to command our heats. Imagine what the dark side of society could do with a submissive omega who can slip into heat and become breedable whenever their abuser desired?

All because of our love for our mates. The sheer possessiveness and protectiveness are embedded into every atom of our being, and they are playing those instincts like they own them.

And maybe they do. I'm not sure what else to do at this point. I feel like I'm at Ken's mercy every second of every day because my mates are. I don't know how to fight back beyond shielding little pieces of myself from destruction.

That's my one act of rebellion these days, but each shout of pain that slips from Ronan's lips, each time Lucas and Elliott crash to their knees, and every tear that Casey sheds for all of us, breaks me a little more.

Their pleads echo in my mind on a loop constantly. My guys don't beg for mercy. No, they beg for me to close my eyes, to fight the demands of the scientists , but they just don't understand yet.

I will do and have done anything for them. Exactly like they have withstood hours of torture waiting for me to smother my instincts until I'm nothing but an omega shell with holes to fill and orders to follow.

Kate says they haven't sexually assaulted her yet, so at least there's that hope I can hold on to. That no matter how many times I slick for Ken or present for him, nobody will lay a hand on me.

Except... someone touches us when we're knocked out to clean us. How would we know for sure that they didn't do anything else? All I can do is check for soreness, I suppose. Will I ever know if they assaulted me? At least Ronan took my virginity, though.

We aren't touched sexually, that we are aware of, until the next heat, but Kate says only her mates tend to her. Apparently, I should expect more violent heats that will only be survivable because of our bonded mates being included.

That's the next phase of the experiment: figuring out the right dosage of the drugs that they use during our heats to negate the need for the bonded pack. Because having the scent matches bonded makes them a bigger trigger for the omega.

How to make an omega not need their mates while still using the tether connecting the pack as the ultimate control piece.

"Freya," Kate whispers into the dark basement.

It's silent beyond the random drips of water hitting the concrete around us. I hum in response to my friend, but don't bother looking over at her. It's well into the night, with no light to see her anyway.

She keeps her voice soft. "You have to keep fighting."

"How do you know I'm not fighting?" I respond but can't help the dull tone of my words.

Kate's silent for a moment, then she replies with so much feeling it makes my throat close up. "Your eyes, Freya. It's been weeks since you started bunking with me, and... your fire is dimming."

I don't say anything. I don't want to tell her I'm fine, because I'm not and she would see right through the lie. And honestly, I think her words broke another piece of me. The piece that no matter what, I was a badass.

I've survived so much and have managed many things. I can still weave beautiful stories of hope and freedom for my friend. I can sass and laugh with her sometimes too. When my mates stand in a line before me, I still pick out the beauty in their souls and bodies.

I'm not completely broken... but what will hold those shards of myself together if not the fire I have grown to keep myself warm and intact with?

Is Kate right?

It was so easy for her observation to shatter another piece of me. A part of me that was heated and molded to the rest. But my embers are cooling. My fire might be dying like she says.

I'm just not sure how to fan the flames anymore.