10. Tipsy Tales

Chapter 10

Tipsy Tales

Sinclair

M y heart pounds as the three Cyan alphas stalk farther into the room like prowling hyenas. I resist the urge to walk back with their advance. I don’t want to get backed into a corner. But other than that, I have no fucking idea what to do.

Do I run? Do I scream? Do I fight?

“I don’t think your alphas will be so fucking arrogant once we return you to them all bloody and battered.” Yves’s voice is the definition of heartless. No, not heartless. Because he has a heart, it’s just pure evil. I can hear the sick glee in his tone, his heart’s desire for pain and payback.

My fear abates when I realize none of them have any weapons. No bats, no knives, no belts. All they have is their fists, and they can’t touch me.

If this charade was meant to scare me, then this realization means they’ve already failed.

“Go ahead, maybe you’ll have a heart attack like that Cobalt piece of shit,” I taunt, standing taller.

Eric, the second tallest after Yves, laughs and there’s something about it that sends cold shivers down my spine. Like there’s something they know that I don’t.

Could they have somehow tricked Bishop or Ecker into giving permission? Is that even possible?

My mind races as they close in on me, cruel, anticipatory smiles painting their faces.

Maybe it is time I try to run. If I can get to the stairwell, I can lock the door behind me. Cautiously, I take a few steps back as they get closer.

It’s only a few yards away now. I think I can make it. I try not to give away my plan as I take one more backward step before spinning around and bolting to the door. Adrenaline rushes through me and my hand flies to the door knob. I expect to feel them on top of me any second, but I don’t even hear them move.

I know why the second I wrench the handle and it doesn’t budge.

“Damn it,” I curse as I try the knob again and again even though it’s clearly locked. “Fuck!” I slam my palm on the stupid door.

If running isn’t an option anymore, I guess that means it’s time to fight.

I turn around with as much confidence and false bravado I can muster. “Three on one, really? Surely you’re not scared of little ol’ me.”

“You won’t be so smart once I knock your teeth in, bitch.” Stefan is the first to swing. I duck just in time, and his fist creates a fissure in the wood behind me.

I know it was just luck. I never stood a chance.

Two sets of hands grab me by the arms and thrust my back up against the door. Yves pushes up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

“Oh, how I’m going to enjoy this.” He snickers right before sucker punching me in the gut.

I wheeze, the wind completely knocked out of me. I don’t have time to even wonder how all three are able to touch me pain free before another powerful blow throws me back into the hard wood.

I look up into his hate-filled eyes, scrambling for the right thing to say when all I want to do is double over in pain. I just need to buy myself some time until my mates come for me.

They must know something is wrong through the bond. I can’t feel them, but that’s probably just the adrenaline, narrowing my focus to this moment in order to survive.

“Don’t have much to say now, hmm?” Yves sounds so damn smug. I spit in his face; it’s practically an instinct.

He doesn’t even wipe it off before punching me squarely in the jaw. My brain rattles in my skull and the room fills with floating black spots. I taste copper on my tongue.

In an attempt to stop the room from spinning, I close my eyes. I don’t see the next hit coming. My cheekbone erupts with pain, and I can feel my eye instantly begin swelling. Bloody spit drips down my chin as I hang my head, fighting to remain conscious.

“What the fuck is happening?” A shout bellows from across the room. My eyes strain to see who it came from.

“This doesn’t concern you, Beryll,” Yves snarls, hardly sparing a glance over his shoulder.

I can barely hold my head straight and struggle to focus on Griffin and the two other Beryll alphas standing in the doorway.

“That wasn’t my question,” Griffin snaps back.

The others keep their grips on my arms while Yves turns around with an indignant huff. “Interhouse relations.”

“ Oh my god .” Paisley gasps as she steps into the doorway too; she must have been a few paces behind, just now catching up. “Get off her!”

She storms into the room, but Griffin pulls her back and orders, “Stay here.”

She looks pissed but doesn’t move except to cross her arms. It must have been an alpha growl.

“Okay, Yves, you’ve had your fun, now give it up.” Griffin’s always reminded me of a golden retriever, but as he stalks toward us with a tucked chin and glowering stare, I see the true alpha underneath. All these men have potential to be monsters.

“You’re not worth getting blood on my shirt for,” Yves scoffs and flicks his chin at the two men still holding me.

As soon as they let me go, I fold over, my palms catching myself on my thighs. It’s all I can do to stay on my feet and not crumple to the floor. I listen to them leave then hear fast, light steps rush to me.

“Jesus, Sinclair. Are you alright?” Paisley’s hand lightly rests on my back, like she’s worried she’ll hurt me.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” I begin to chuckle, but my ribs scream and it turns into more of a wheezing groan.

Her arm wraps around my waist and she helps me stand up straight. “How can I help? What do you need?”

“A drink.”

“Thank you, Twelve,” Paisley says as her attendant holds out a silver tray with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, two small pills, and a cup of water.

We’re back in the Beryll’s wing, sitting on Paisley’s bed. Well, I think it’s her bedroom, but it’s clear everyone sleeps here. There are sports drinks on the bedside table, boxing gloves lying next to a gym bag by the door, and various men’s clothes strewn about the floor. But her dresses are the only thing in the closet and her makeup is set on top of the dresser.

She offers me the pills and water, explaining, “Super low dose alpha hormones to speed up the healing—it will feel like it didn’t even happen tomorrow.”

Grateful, I take them then she passes the ice to me, and I hold it on my swollen eye. The guys are going to throw a fit when they find out. But I still don’t get how it was even possible.

“How were they able to touch me? Especially now that Ecker and I are bonded too. I’d expect the alpha aversion to be stronger.” I rub my sore jaw after talking.

“They must have slipped you a suppressant.” Paisley explains, “If your omega nature is suppressed, then so is your bond and any alpha aversion.”

“But how— Merigold .” I realize and groan. “What a cunt.”

“She must have dropped it in your cup at the dock. That’s probably why you felt sick.”

“And why I can’t feel my mates—oh shit, do they know where I am?”

Twelve returns with two glasses full of deep red wine on the tray. Paisley plucks one off and hands it to me, saying, “Of course, Noah told them. But I figured if you’re suppressed, you might want some time apart.”

I take a sip of the rich wine. “Why?”

“Once I had to be suppressed for a medical thing and it was really weird and kind of scary to be near Griffin and not feel anything .”

I remember right before the attack, when I thought I was just sick, and imagining Bishop and Ecker all over me made me feel even worse. They don’t feel like my comfort zone right now.

Do I still feel like theirs?

Even with the weird, unnatural feeling of being suppressed, I still want to see them. They may not be the same comfort zone, but they’re still the closest thing to it.

But they probably don’t want to see me. After all, without our alpha-omega connection, is there anything left between us?

I want to believe there is, but I’m scared to face the reality that maybe there isn’t.

“You can just leave the bottle.” Paisley giggles and swipes the wine bottle from Twelve after she comes to refill our glasses for a third time.

Paisley’s hand sways slightly as she tops off my drink, then she takes a chug right from the bottle.

“Wait, actually, can you hold this?” She pushes the wine back into Twelve’s hands then throws her head over to gather her long, shiny black hair. She twists it up in a loose bun on top of her head and exhales. “Man, wine always makes me overheat. Okay.” She grabs the bottle again and gives me a mock serious face. “Now, tell me everything. What’s it like to be with the bad boys of the Echelon?”

Twelve scuttles out of the room as I laugh at her description. “The bad boys?”

“Yeah! Exiled underdogs clawing their way back.” She says it like it’s a line from a movie poster.

“Well, I don’t know anything different.” I shrug.

“Oh, c’mon.” She claps her hand on my knee and wiggles her brows. “I want all the juicy details.”

“Okay, okay.” I laugh. I’m rusty at this kind of girl talk. “Bishop is like a white knight—he’s thoughtful, protective, respectful . . .” I blush and debate whether or not to say what I’m thinking. The wine must be making me loose-lipped because I add with a giggle, “Except for when I don’t want him to be so respectful.”

She leans forward with drunken curiosity and a prying smile. “And Ecker? You two are bonded now, right?”

“We are—or we were? Will the bond return once the suppressant is out of my system?” The thought of coming back to no bond hurts more than I expect it to.

“Oh, definitely.” She waves her hand. “It will be like nothing happened. And what about their parents? Do they ever talk about them?”

“Um . . .” I’m a bit taken aback by her abrupt change of subject, then feel sort of guilty when I realize I have no clue what happened to their parents.

Paisley begins to ask another question then groans. “I can’t do this.” She covers her face with her hand like she’s ashamed.

“Can’t do what?” I feel like I missed part of the conversation.

“I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but I just can’t .” She leans forward over her crossed legs and continues in a whisper, “I’m supposed to be getting dirt on your pack. For the Intelligence Trial.”

“What?” I rear back.

She sits back and hangs her head. “I know, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to but—”

“No, I’m not mad at you,” I quickly clarify, and she looks at me with confusion. I point to myself then her. “ We are supposed to be getting dirt on you . But they said—”

“That they never assign other packs as targets for the Intelligence Trial.” She finishes my sentence, sobering.

“Which is apparently bullshit.” I can’t say I’m surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time the Echelon lied.

My stomach sinks as a thought occurs to me. “Wait, did you guys set this all up with the Cyans? The suppressants, the attack.”

She clutches her hand to her heart. “God, no! I swear.” I believe her. She’s already been honest when she shouldn’t have.

She continues guiltily, “But after we found you, we did think it would be a good opportunity to get you away from your alphas and hopefully spill something you shouldn’t.”

This information doesn’t feel like as much of a sucker punch as I’d have thought. We’re all just pawns in the Echelon’s games. I can’t blame Paisley when I might have done the same.

“Noah didn’t tell my alphas I’m here, did he?” Her grimace tells me all I need to know.

My mates must be losing their shit right now .