Page 7 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

Nobody gets that glassy-eyed on two drinks. Something was in that bottle.

The alpha signals a server and murmurs something I can’t hear. Then he stands, helps the omega to her feet—helps is generous; she can barely stand—and starts guiding her toward the back corridor.

Toward the private rooms.

I follow them into a corridor that’s dimmer than the main room, lined with doors marked PRIVATE. The alpha has his arm around the omega’s waist, half-carrying her now. Her head lolls against his shoulder.

“Get your hands off her.”

My voice comes out hard and cold, nothing like the broken girl who woke up in Sentinel’s medical wing months ago.

The alpha turns. Up close, he looks much older than I first thought, his expression arrogant and unhurried, like he thinks he’s above it all. His eyebrows lift when he sees me.

“Excuse me?”

“I said get your hands off her.” I step closer, positioning myself between him and the door he’s headed for. “I know what you put in her drink. You’re not taking her anywhere.”

He laughs, a short, ugly sound.

“And what are you going to do about it, little omega?” His eyes drag down my body, slow and appraising. “Run and tell someone? Throw a tantrum?” He pulls the woman closer. “This is none of your business.”

I don’t bother answering.

I lunge forward and drive my knee into his groin with every ounce of strength I have.

He isn’t expecting it. His grip on the omega releases as he doubles over, and she stumbles into the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor with a confused whimper.

But I didn’t hit him hard enough.

The last time I did this, that was all it took. One strike and it was over. This one recovers faster than I anticipated, straightening up with murder in his eyes.

“You fucking bitch.”

He comes at me fast. I reach for my knife, but he’s already there, his hand closing around my throat and slamming me back against the wall. My skull cracks against the plaster, and stars explode across my vision.

“Why did you have to do that?” He squeezes tighter. His face is inches from mine, contorted with rage. “Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business?”

I claw at his hand, but his grip only tightens. My free hand scrambles for the knife in my jacket pocket, and my fingers close around the handle.

It’s not enough. He’s pinned too close, my arm crushed between us, and I can’t drag the blade free. The harder I struggle, the more the edges of my vision gray out.

My chest screams for air. My fingers go slack around the knife I can’t use, and the world starts to tunnel down to nothing.

“You’re going to want to let her go. Now.”

The voice comes from behind him, low and deadly calm.

Griffin.

The alpha’s head whips around. I can’t see what he sees, but whatever it is, his grip goes slack and he lets me fall.

I crumple against the wall, gasping, one hand pressed to my bruised throat. Through watering eyes I see them—Griffin, Declan, and Nolan, spread across the corridor like a wall of barely restrained violence.

The alpha bolts.

Nolan starts after him, but Griffin shakes his head. “Let him go. We know who he is. We’ll deal with him later.”

Declan is already at my side, crouching down, his eyes searching my face. “Sophie. Are you okay?”