Page 8 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“I’m fine.” The words rasp out of my damaged throat. I push myself upright, ignoring the tremor in my legs. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.” He reaches behind my head, his touch gentle. When he pulls his hand back, his fingers are red.

I hadn’t even realized I was bleeding.

Griffin stands over us, arms crossed. “What the fuck are you doing here, Sophie?”

“I was helping her.” I gesture toward the omega in the pink dress, still slumped against the wall. Her eyes are closed now, her head tipped back against the wall, completely unconscious. “They’re drugging omegas here. Slipping something into the drinks. I’ve been tracking it for a month.”

“And you thought you’d handle it yourself, alone, without telling anyone.” It’s not a question.

“I called the cops,” I snap. “I called them three times. They didn’t do shit.”

“So you decided to play vigilante.” Nolan’s voice is flat, unimpressed. He moves to the omega and checks her pulse, then lifts her easily into his arms. “I’ll get her home. Find out who she is, make sure she’s safe.” He carries her toward the back exit without another word.

Griffin hasn’t moved. Neither has Declan.

“You’re being stupid.” Declan’s voice is quiet but sharp. His hands are clenched at his sides, and he keeps looking at the blood on the wall behind me. “You know that, right? This isn’t brave. It’s reckless.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” Griffin’s tone is hard now, stripped of patience. “And for what? To prove something? To feel like you’re doing something? There are better ways, Sophie. Smarter ways.”

I meet his eyes and hold them.

“Then train me.”

The words hang between us. Even the bass from the club feels far away.

“I want to work for Sentinel,” I say. “I’ve wanted it since the day you found me. And you can tell me I’m being stupid, you can tell me I’m reckless, but I’m going to keep doing this whether you help me or not.” I gesture toward the blood smeared on the wall. “So you can either train me to do it right, or you can keep scraping me off the pavement when it goes wrong.”

Griffin stares at me for a long moment. I hold his gaze, trying not to let him see how badly I want this, even as I prepare myself for him to shut me down again.

Then, finally, he exhales.

“Fine.”

Fuck, yes. I smile before I can stop myself, but Griffin doesn’t smile back.

“Eight a.m. Monday. Sentinel headquarters. Don’t be late.”

He turns and walks away without waiting for a response. Declan lingers a moment longer, his brow creased, his eyes not quite leaving mine.

“He’s going to make you work for it,” he says quietly. “You know that, right?”

“Good.” I push off the wall, ignoring the throbbing in my skull and the ache in my throat. “I don’t want it handed to me.”

Declan starts to smile, then catches himself.

“Monday, then.” He follows Griffin toward the exit, and I’m left alone with nothing but the fading bass and the raw ache in my throat.

Monday.

For the first time in a while, I have something to look forward to.

CHAPTER 4

Sophie

Ten Years Later