Chapter 118: Quite The Evil Omega

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The first thing that hit me was the taste in my mouth. It was terrible, dry, bitter, and oddly metallic, like I’d been chewing on coins all night. How unfair, considering I hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

My head felt so damn heavy, like I was trudging through a thick fog, and there was this uncomfortable pressure behind my eyes that made opening them feel like a monumental task.

Had...had I blacked out or something?

For several seconds, I was completely lost about where I was, but then it came back to me: the cloth, the corridor, the guy behind me, the smell...my stomach twisted, and I forced my eyes open.

The ceiling above was unfamiliar, a dull grey that looked nothing like the classy ballroom we’d just left, with its molding and chandeliers that could probably double as small cars. A single fluorescent light buzzed above, flickering just enough to make my already throbbing headache even worse.

I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the room. My first thought was it looked like a storage room.

My second was that whoever had taken me clearly had zero taste in decor; even a hostage deserves better than bare concrete and a dying light bulb.

And then there was my third thought: Lorenzo.

I attempted to sit up, but pain shot through my skull like an electric shock, and I fell back against whatever I was lying on, squeezing my eyes shut and breathing through my teeth until the white spots behind my eyelids faded.

"Okay," I mumbled to myself. "Looks like that’s not happening yet."

My voice sounded strange, rough and weak, and swallowing felt like sandpaper scraping against my throat.

I focused on taking slow breaths and tried to recall what happened after the handkerchief had covered my face. Turns out, not much. T

he chemical smell had been overwhelming. I fought, tried to hold my breath, but then my arms felt heavy, my vision blurred, my knees gave out, and everything went black.

Except, it hadn’t been a long blackout, and that was the weird thing. I still felt groggy, but I could think. More importantly, I could move. My fingers twitched against the surface beneath me... small victory, but I’d take it.

But when I tested my wrists, I found them restrained. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but definitely firm enough that whoever had tied me expected I wasn’t going anywhere.

Fantastic...just what I needed, light bondage on top of a headache.

I took another slow breath and opened my eyes again, enough to take in my surroundings. There were three guys in the room.

One was near the door, watching the hallway like he’d done this a million times. Another was crouched beside a table, checking something I couldn’t see from where I was.

The third was standing close enough to me that I could smell his cologne, which was way too expensive for a criminal.

I quickly shut my eyes again. It seemed like I hadn’t been noticed yet. Good. That was a win.

"How long until the signal?" one of them asked.

"Not long."

"And the vehicle?"

"It’s waiting."

My heart started pounding hard enough that I thought they might hear it. Vehicle. Signal. Those words didn’t belong in a conversation that ended well for someone lying on a table.

So, I kept my breathing slow and even, trying to appear as if I were dreaming about something nice, like a sandwich. ℴℴ𝘮

The guy next to me checked the cuffs around my wrists. "He shouldn’t be waking up."

"Then why the hell is he?"

That guy sighed irritably. "Because you didn’t give him enough, smartass."

"Are you blaming me?"

"I’m saying you should’ve used more."

"Too much could’ve fucking killed him!"

There was a pause, and I almost opened my eyes. Killed me? Apparently, that was not in the plans, which was oddly comforting, like a lion deciding not to eat you until Thursday.

The man beside me muttered something under his breath and crouched closer. "He’s the Castelli omega. We need him alive this time."

My eyebrows lifted. The Castelli omega... I never thought I’d hate a title so much.

"Volpe specifically said nothing happens to him," the guy continued. "If anything happens to the omega before we move him, Volpe will kill whoever is responsible."

Volpe. Who the heck was Volpe? Why did they want me alive?

I’d been kidnapped...what a shock.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

Apparently, I was important enough to be called "the Castelli omega," and now some mysterious figure named Volpe had issued orders that I was not to be killed.

I carefully flexed my fingers again. The drug was definitely wearing off, slowly but surely. My arms felt heavy, my legs weren’t cooperating, but strength was coming back with every breath. I needed to get out.

More importantly, I needed to find Lorenzo, and I had no clue where he was. I didn’t know how long I’d been out, or what these guys were planning.

Naturally, my brain decided this was a great time to remind me of the last thing Lorenzo had said before I left him. Don’t go far. Well.

Technically, I hadn’t gone far, because someone had moved me. I planned to use that argument later, assuming there was a later.

One of the guys grabbed my shoulder. "Wake up."

I let my head roll to the side, playing the part of a limp body pretty convincingly, if I do say so myself.

"Come on." He shook me harder, and I let my body go totally slack, like a puppet with its strings cut.

"He’s still out."

"Good," the guy said, loosening his grip.

That was my cue. I moved before I could second-guess myself. My knee drove upward into his gut with all the force I could gather, slamming hard into soft flesh.

He doubled over with a strangled, wet sound that felt gratifying, air exploding from his lungs. In the same instant, I twisted my wrists sharply, the restraints biting into skin as I used the surprise to roll sideways and yank one arm free enough to slip the cuff off my hand.

It tore at the flesh...raw, burning pain that made my vision spark, but I didn’t care. I swung my elbow backward with everything I had, the bone connecting solidly with someone’s ribs. Cartilage gave under the impact; he cursed loudly, the sound sharp and pained.

I rolled off the table, hitting the floor hard enough to knock the breath out of me. Concrete slammed into my shoulder and hip; for a moment the world spun in sickening circles. Then someone grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me backward.

The fabric ripped slightly under the force. I twisted, caught his wrist in both hands, and dropped my full weight. He stumbled forward off-balance. I took advantage of the movement to drive my elbow into his arm, then upward into his chest, feeling the solid thud of bone against muscle.

When he staggered back, I kicked the back of his knee with the heel of my foot. The joint buckled with a dull crack of impact, and he crumpled hard to the floor.

"What the fuck?! Get him!"

"He’s awake!"

"Yeah... no kidding!" I shouted.

The third guy lunged toward me, and I barely managed to get my arms up in time. His shoulder slammed into me like a battering ram, sending me crashing against the wall.

Pain shot through my back so sharply that I saw stars; the impact rattled my teeth and forced the air from my lungs in a harsh gasp.

Damn these betas and their strength!

"You’re stronger than you look," he growled, breath hot against my face.

"Awwn thanks," I replied with a grin. "I’ve been practicing really hard these past few weeks. I’m so glad you noticed!"

He blinked, clearly thrown at my happy response, and I seized the moment to slam my forehead into his nose.

Bone and cartilage crunched under the blow; warm blood sprayed across my skin. His grip loosened immediately, and I shoved him away with both hands, putting distance between us.

"But that’s a really rude thing to say to other Omegas, you know."

He swung at me, a heavy fist arcing toward my head. I ducked just in time. His knuckles hit the wall with a sickening crunch that echoed through the room; he hissed in pain. I grabbed a nearby table’s edge and yanked it toward him with all my remaining strength.

His leg caught on the leg of the table, causing him to stumble forward. I kicked him hard in the gut, the sole of my shoe driving deep into his midsection. He tumbled awkwardly backward, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

I stared at him for a second, then looked at my foot, as if it had done something amazing without asking me first.

"Oh shit," I breathed. "That actually worked."

Unfortunately, the first guy was already recovering. He grabbed me from behind, thick arms locking around my chest and squeezing tight enough to make it hard to breathe.

I struggled against him, twisting and thrashing, but my body wasn’t fully on board yet. His forearm crushed against my ribs; panic surged through me, and for a terrifying second I was back in that corridor, trapped again.

But then I remembered something: he thought I’d fight him. He expected strength. So, I relaxed.

My body went completely slack.

The man hesitated. "What are you doing?"

I let my head hang forward. He loosened his grip just enough. I slammed my heel backward into his shin with brutal force; bone met bone, and he cursed loudly. Then I completely dropped my weight, twisted sideways, and slipped out of his grasp like an annoyed eel. Before he could react,

I snatched the metal tray sitting on the table beside us and swung it in a wide, vicious arc. It connected with his shoulder with a satisfying clang of metal on flesh and bone. He stumbled sideways. I swung again, harder this time, the edge of the tray biting into him.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "This is a really stressful night for me..."

The tray bent under the force. The guy collapsed against the table, gasping. I stood there, panting, gripping the now-useless piece of metal like a knight whose sword had just given up on life.

My entire body hurt...ribs aching, head still pounding, hands shaking like crazy from adrenaline and residual drugs. But I was still standing, and that was a win.