Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

CASEY

W ith each passing day, the pressure on my chest, behind my eyes and in my throat builds. I don't know what it is, but I feel like I have to be strong. Honestly, it's probably a multitude of things.

I swear Ronan and Lucas have yet to cry, at least recently or obviously. And Elliott. God, he's breaking my heart. My alpha has gone from being a shell of himself to being extremely reactive.

If I were to cry and break down like my body is freaking begging for, I think I might break him. I don't even know what a broken Eli would look like at this point.

It's not like I think we are all going to be the same people we were if we ever get out of here, but I'm most worried for Freya and my dark-skinned alpha.

We all look unkempt, of course, but Elliott has this wild look in his eyes that worries me whenever I catch a glimpse of the brown orbs. His usually short afro has grown longer than I've ever seen it, changing his looks a bit, but not as much as the constant tension in his shoulders.

Eli looks like he's always coiled to spring for anyone who triggers him. The more I think about it, the more I realize this might be the closest and longest his alpha has been to the surface.

Is it bad? I'm just not sure. Lucas seems to be the most controlled and well-adjusted of us all. Well, out of the four of us. I don't know Beckett or Nick enough to judge whether or not their behavior is out of character.

Ronan is for sure in solution mode, which I hope he holds onto for as long as possible. Without the drive to fix everything, I don't think he would be doing any better than Elliott.

God, what would happen if our most dominant alphas in the group were both ready to start beating things up with no real thought?

While I'm studying Lucas in the dim morning light, the basement door creaks open, making everyone automatically stiffen and jump to their feet.

An enforcer steps through the opening, only to stop a few feet inside. The beta in all black narrows his eyes at each of us, cataloguing our positions and the locks on our doors. His beady eyes trail over the room and windows one more time before he retreats out the door with his walkie talkie crackling in his hand.

"All clear. No suspicious activity. Over," he grunts and locks the door behind him.

Silence follows his exit as we all trade glances. Ronan asks the question tumbling around in my mind before I can. "Is that normal? They haven't done that before."

Nick clears his throat, shifting on his feet. "No, never. I mean, sometimes they will come in to taunt us and fuck around, but never just to check that we're still here."

I don't know whether to be worried or excited about Nick's obvious anxiety. Is different good when you're a captive?

I may just be a beta, but the tension and nervousness radiating off that enforcer was potent enough for me to pick up on.

Beckett's pacing now, and Elliott's glaring at the door. Lucas just watches his brother while Ronan is clearly working through something in his brain. Nick and I are both watching the rest of them and looking around the basement. Nick might be lost in his head too, but I'm trying to gauge how everyone is feeling and checking out every crack in the walls and breeze seeping through the small windows.

Suddenly, each cobweb blowing in the drafty breeze and the idea of the enforcers being on edge about something feels like an opportunity. Each crackle of their walkie talkies just outside the door and extra heavy foot falls feels a little like hope.