"I'd let her," Carlisle murmurs, and we all turn to stare at him. He shrugs, unrepentant. "What? Tell me you haven't thought about it. The way she moves, the way she fights... she's perfect."
"She's traumatized," I correct sharply.
"She's a killer," Bane adds.
"She's psychotic," Elias points out. "In the clinical sense."
"Yes," Carlisle agrees cheerfully. "Perfect."
Sometimes I forget that Carlisle's not just dangerous, he’s genuinely insane. This is one of those times when he reminds me.
And fuck me, because I actually agree with him.
"We're not telling her," Bane decides, using his leader voice that brooks no argument. "Not yet. She needs time to settle, to realize we're not going to hurt them. We observe, we wait, we let her come to trust us on her own terms."
"And if she doesn't?" Carlisle asks.
"Then we deal with that when it happens." Bane's scarred jaw sets in that stubborn line that meansdiscussion over. "For now, we lie low. No sudden moves, no revelations about scent matching, nothing that might spook her more than she already is."
"What about when he wakes up?" I ask, nodding toward Felix. "He's going to notice we're not treating him like a typical prisoner."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Bane says. "Maybe he'll be more reasonable than she is."
Somehow, looking at the way Juniper guards him, I doubt it. Anyone who inspires that kind of loyalty isn't going to be reasonable about anything concerning her safety.
"I'll make up some food," I say, needing to do something useful. "Leave it outside the door. Maybe she'll eat if she doesn't have to interact with us."
"Good idea," Elias approves. "I'll prepare some basic medical supplies too. Bandages, antiseptic, things she can use herself if she needs to."
"I'll pull the security footage from the Rut Room," Bane says. "See if we can figure out who hired them, or at least get some leads."
"And I'll just... watch," Carlisle says, settling deeper into his chair like he's at the fucking theater. "Someone needs to monitor our little hellcat."
I want to argue, to tell him to stop being creepy, but honestly? Someone does need to keep an eye on them. And despite everything, Carlisle's probably the best suited for it. Henotices things the rest of us miss, patterns and tells that might give us insight into who they really are.
Through the window, Juniper suddenly slumps forward, exhaustion finally winning over adrenaline. Her head comes to rest on Felix's chest, and I can see her shoulders shaking. Crying, maybe, or just shaking from the stress of the last few hours.
My chest aches watching her. This omega who tried to kill us, who's clearly dangerous and unstable and completely devoted to another alpha, and all I want to do is go in there and tell her everything's going to be okay. That we'll protect her, provide for her, make sure no one ever hurts her again.
But that's biology talking. Scent match hormones flooding my system, making me stupid. She doesn't need an alpha savior. She doesn't need us at all. She's made that crystal fucking clear.
Chapter
Thirteen
FELIX
The first thing I register is warmth. Not the clinical, sterile warmth of hospital blankets, but something alive pressed against my side. My eyes crack open to fluorescent lights that stab into my retinas like needles, and I bite back a groan. The second thing I register is pain—a dull throb in my thigh and arm that speaks to recent trauma and too many drugs pumping through my system.
The third thing is Juniper.
She's curled against me like a cat, her body molded to mine in a way that suggests she's been here for hours. Her hair fans across my chest, tickling my chin with each breath. One hand rests over my heart, fingers splayed possessively, while the other clutches my hospital gown like she's afraid I'll disappear if she lets go.
Memory crashes back in fragments. The Rut Room. Gunfire. Blood pooling beneath me while Juniper screamed my name. The alphas who should have killed us but didn't.
We're in their base. They treated my wounds. They kept us alive.
The question is why.
