Page 84 of One Way Out
“We have no contacts here to cover this kind of thing up,” I say, sighing heavily. “We have no choice.”
Valor nods. “This was mostly silent, but they know where we are. We need to get out of here immediately.”
“I never said I didn’t agree,” Omen says calmly. “Just warning ya. We should all prepare to have a very pouty omega on our hands.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Omen
Not only are we faced with a pouty, confused omega, she’s bloody well combative when we have to shuffle her from the makeshift nest.
“Where is Shaw? What is happening? It was just starting to smell right in there,” she sobs as Valor carries her out wrapped in a blanket.
Upon telling the two sleeping beauties that we would be leaving in ten minutes, Leo dressed quickly, but Saylor fought me the entire time I helped her into sweats and a T-shirt.
Ridge kept her suitcases from the hotel she was kidnapped from. So, she has her own clothing, but with her in the middle of her heat, it’s easier to go with soft, simple options.
Valor stomps out into the hallway with Saylor in tow, but his words are easy enough to pick up. He calmly lets her know we’re leaving, and the sound of his boots hitting the stairs comes next.
Leo’s eyes meet mine as he pulls his boots on, working on getting them laced up. “What happened?”
“Best guess?” I shrug. “The facility. All their gear seemed familiar. Shaw is fine. He’s getting cleaned up before Saylor has the chance to get a look at him.”
He nods. “Where are we headed?”
“Ridge mentioned our papers are supposed to be done later today. Rather than waiting for a courier, we’ll be heading to grab them directly from the forger.”
“Jesus,” he murmurs. “What are we going to do if Saylor has a wave of heat on the plane?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Not a bloody clue.”
* * *
Ridge once again chauffeurs us about. This time, Leo ends up in the front passenger seat, Valor and Shaw take the middle row, and I end up with the cranky omega.
She’s wrapped up in the comforter Valor bought, and she rests against my chest. I sneak my hand under the blanket and find the bottom of her shirt. It seems important that I physically monitor her temperature to know when we need to whip out the thermometer.
Saylor is fine for now.
We filled her in on what happened.
She’s been pretty quiet since then. She might not be verbalizing her concerns, but she’s worried. It spills through the bond, despite her attempts to block her feelings.
I’ve already verbally assured her that everything will be fine, and for now, I think it’s best to provide physical comfort and allow her to process her thoughts.
“Do you think they’ll keep coming after us?” she asks after a half an hour or more has passed.
“I don’t see them putting in the effort to cross the Atlantic just to get retribution for a few employees they don’t give a shit about.” I squeeze her hip. “I’m more worried about how you’ll tolerate being on an airplane.”
The post-heat cramps haven’t started, meaning she’s either been experiencing backlash from the suppressants or the heat isn’t fully over yet. Without a doctor and blood tests, it’s impossible to guess which it is.
“Yeah, that could be bad, but I’ll manage. I think we’ll be a lot safer back in the States.” Her nose dances from my pec to my armpit, and she buries her face between my chest and arm.
I would normally laugh.
She’s fucking adorable, and watching her instincts play out is unreal. At the same time, I know how unsettled she is. If hiding in my armpit will help, I’m not going to say a word.
* * *
