Page 17 of Knot Their Soldier: Part Three

The voice pretending to be my dead Omega is not real.

Neither is the hope that comes with it.

Hope is a trap.

The Beta is bleeding from a hundred shallow cuts, shaking against the restraints, making all the usual little sounds people make when they're truly, completely terrified. I need it. I need her crying and begging and dragging air through her teeth because if she’s loud enough, she might drown out the impossible voice tucked into the ruined place where my bond used to be.

‘Blaze,’ Sparkles says again.

"Nope," I whisper. "Absolutely fucking not."

I grab the pliers from the maintenance box. They’re rough and greasy in my hand, and the Beta starts pleading for mercy before I even touch her.

Good.

Perfect.

Louder would be better.

‘Would you put that down, you cockwomble?’

The pliers freeze in my grip.

My chest clenches around the word.

"Don’t call me that."

‘What, cockwomble?’

I squeeze my eyes shut, and my teeth grind until my jaw pops painfully.

Knox called me that first, back when Scorch Squad was new and none of us knew how to be brothers yet. It started as an insult, then turned into something like a pet name. It's a stupid, made-up word with too much weight, and her saying it now feels like she is mocking the wreckage that is our Pack.

It's a kick in the balls.

'Stop acting like one and I'll stop calling you one, you giant cockwomble.'

"Fuck!"

With a frustrated yell, I slam the pliers onto the metal table, the jarring noise echoing as the other tools tumble to the floor.

The Beta sobs louder. It still doesn't drown her out.

'No. Listen to me.'

"Fuck off!" I roar.

'Cockwomble.'

I cover my ears and shake my head.

'Just come outside. Come see me, yeah? Please. Then I'll stop.'

I suck in a lungful of air, letting my lungs sting as I stretch them to capacity.

She sounds tired, almost as if it's costing her strength each time she speaks.

I don't want that. Even if she's not real, I don't want her to suffer.