Page 27 of Omega on Fire
I meet her eyes. No point sugar-coating it. "Yeah. That."
She holds my gaze, unflinching. "You don't seem like the type to apologize for doing your job."
"I'm not apologizing for killing him." My words come out harder than intended. "I'm apologizing for how it went down. You'd already been through enough shit without adding that to your highlight reel."
Her expression softens fractionally. "I've seen violence before, Beaux."
My name in her mouth does something to me. Makes my chest tight.
"Not like that, Harlequin."
The nickname slips out before I can catch it. Her eyebrows shoot up. "Harlequin?"
Heat crawls up my neck. "Forget it. It's stupid."
She studies me for a long moment, head tilted. "No, I want to know what it means, other than you're a fan of comic books."
I rub the back of my neck. "It's just colorful, complex, a little chaotic. Like you." Like the way you make me feel.
I don't know why explaining my reasoning makes me feel more exposed than I have in a long time, but I can't bear to hear her reply, so I deflect.
Before she can respond, I push open Trigger's office door. "After you."
The room falls silent as she enters. Trigger sits behind his massive desk, Joker and Deacon flanking him like royal guards. Charlotte hesitates at the threshold, and I resist the urge to place my hand on the small of her back. Instead, I nod toward the empty chair.
"They don't bite," I tell her. "Well, Trigger might if you ask nicely."
That earns me a glare from our fearless leader, but Charlotte's shoulders relax a fraction as she takes her seat.
"Ms. Matthews," Trigger begins formally. "We need to hear everything that happened from the beginning."
I lean against the wall, arms crossed, as Charlotte straightens her spine. She starts speaking in a clear, detached voice that belies the horror of her words. Professional. Clinical. Like she's giving a presentation rather than reliving trauma.
"I was leaving the Have Faith Foundation building in Houston," she begins. "A man attacked me from behind and dragged me into an alley where two other men were waiting. I attempted to fight, but they drugged me and, well, I woke in a dark prison. I thought I was blind."
As she continues, my admiration grows. Sherecalls details that most civilians would miss, descriptions of her captors, snippets of conversations, the layout of rooms and corridors. She's fucking incredible, this woman. Strong in ways that have nothing to do with physical power.
"They kept me sedated most of the time," she says, "but I counted steps between locations. Memorized voices. But mostly, I was taken to what they would consider an examination room, where the bitch ass doctor ran her tests and—" she swallows hard. "Let's just say she wanted to make sure all my parts were functional. Can't sell a defective Omega, right?"
My fists clench as she describes the psychological torment. The threats. The promises of what would happen once she was ‘sold’.
"Oh, he was so confident that I would be sold and forgotten," she says, her voice hardening further. "Before the auction, I was brought to a conference room and the evil villain himself thought it prudent to introduce himself and tell me all about his nefarious plans for those of my designation. Said it didn't matter anymore what I saw or who he was."
She pauses, swallowing hard. "It was Senator Justus Blaine."
The name hits like a fucking grenade.
"The Senator?" Joker clarifies, his fingers alreadyflying across his tablet. "The one running for re-election?"
Charlotte nods. "He said I'd be an example for other Omegas who didn't know their place."
Trigger's expression darkens to something dangerous. "You're certain it was him?"
"I've debated him on national television," Charlotte says flatly. "I know what Senator Blaine sounds like. It was him."
I push off the wall, unable to contain my rage. "A fucking U.S. Senator. Jesus Christ."
Deacon catches my eye, a warning look. Stand down.
