Page 5 of Omega on Fire
And that's when I knew their strategy was working.
"—remarkable resilience for an Omega of her stature. Most would have begged within forty-eight hours. She lasted an extra day her first week here before we intervened."
The voice yanks me from my memories, as sharp as a slap to the face. Clinical. Cold. Female. I blink against harsh fluorescent lighting, so different from the suffocating darkness I'd been trapped in for days. My eyes water painfully as they adjust, the world slowly coming into focus around me. The guards had sedated me when they arrived to retrieve me. I was lifted off one bed, placed on a gurney and wheeled through a long corridor before I finally lost consciousness. As I blink away the last dregs of fog from my brain, I realize I am about to be subjected to another round of tests.
I'm strapped to an examination table now, the restraints identical to the ones from my cell butsomehow more terrifying under these sterile lights. A cold shiver racks my body as I realize that my gown is gone and I’m naked. They’ve never stripped me before, so whatever’s about to happen today. . .no, I don’t want to think about what’s about to happen. So, I take note of everything in the room once more to take my mind off the inevitable. The room is blindingly white—white tiles, white counters, white cabinets. Medical equipment lines the walls and the distant beeping of monitors creates a steady, ominous rhythm.
Standing over me is a woman I have hated from the moment I met her. Dr. Locke. The guards mention her name in passing, and with deference, like she’s one of their leaders. She’s tall and lanky, with skin so pale it's almost translucent, like straight up vampire white. Her eyes are the most unsettling part—shards of green glass that don't reflect light so much as absorb it. Her black hair is pulled back in a severe bun so tight it must give her headaches. Good. I hope it fucking hurts.
"She's awake," she says, not to me but to someone else in the room who I can't see from my position. "Vitals are not as stable as I would like. She’s in need of more fluids. Nothing an IV drip won’t cure. We'llneed to address that before the procedure. I know you want them pliable but practically starving and barely giving them water is not good for an Omega’s health." She tsks.
I try to speak, but my throat closes around the words, dry as sandpaper. All that comes out is a ragged croak.
"Water," Dr. Locke says, snapping her fingers. "Small sips only."
A straw is placed between my cracked lips. I should refuse it, some stubborn part of me knows I should, but my body betrays me. I suck greedily, the lukewarm water like heaven on my ravaged throat. It's removed too quickly.
"That's enough for now,” she snaps. “I have an examination to conduct and yours is not the only one I need to perform today.”
Examination. The word sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with the room's temperature.
"Why?" I manage to ask, my voice barely a whisper. "What do you want? What is the end game?"
Dr. Locke's mouth curves into something that resembles a smile but lacks any warmth. "Ah, the inevitable questions. So predictable." She picks up a tablet from a nearby tray, her long fingers scrolling through what I assume is my information. "CharlotteMatthews. Twenty-nine. Unmated Omega. Quite the little celebrity in those progressive circles of yours."
I stare at her in shock. This is the first time I’ve asked questions and she’s actually answered me, all the other times she worked in silence. I wonder what’s changed as my stomach churns with fear and anxiety. Whatever has her speaking finally can’t be good.
Her opinion of me is clear though, she says ‘progressive’ like it's a disease.
"You won't get away with this," I say, hating how weak I sound. Yep, I’ve said it before, but now that she’s talking. . . "People will notice I'm missing. They'll look for me."
A soft chuckle escapes her lips. "They already have noticed, Ms. Matthews. Your face has been all over the news for weeks now. 'Prominent Omega Rights Activist Mysteriously Disappears'. It's caused quite the stir."
My heart sinks. Weeks. I've been here for weeks. Somehow, I’ve known that, but to hear it out loud is gut wrenching.
"Then they'll find me," I say with more conviction than I feel. If they are looking, then where the hell is my rescue?
"No," she replies, "they won't." She sets down thetablet and pulls on latex gloves with methodical precision. The snap against her wrists makes me flinch. "You see, Charlotte. . .may I call you Charlotte? You're quite valuable to us. An Omega with your particular qualities is rare."
"What qualities?" I ask, fear clawing at my insides.
"Your resilience, for one. Your intelligence. Your public profile." She leans closer, those green eyes drilling into mine. "But most importantly, your fertility. Natural-born Omegas from Beta parents are exceedingly rare. Your genetic makeup is exceptional."
My blood turns to ice. "I'm not breeding stock," I spit out.
"Actually," she says, reaching for something on a metal tray I can't see, "that's exactly what you are. Your advocacy work was quite inspirational, truly. But now you'll serve a higher purpose."
The whir of a machine starts up somewhere to my right, and Dr. Locke's face is illuminated by a blue glow from a monitor.
"We're going to start with a comprehensive fertility assessment," she explains, as if discussing the weather. "The Alpha clients who've bid on your profile are very particular about their investment."
Clients. Bids. Investments. My stomach heaves, but there's nothing to bring up.
"Don't worry," she adds, mistaking my horror for fear of pain. "This part won't hurt. Much."
As she moves away to adjust something on the machine, I test my restraints again. Nothing. Not even a millimeter of give.
I close my eyes briefly, gathering what's left of my strength as cold gloved hands touch bare skin. The pinch of the speculum shoved inside me without care. The poking and prodding of Dr. Locke’s fingers as she talks about me like I’m nothing but a specimen to be observed. It goes on and on, but I bite back my screams for her to stop. But I can help the stray tears as they fall down the sides of my face. I can get through this. I have to. I won't break. I won't become what they want.
