Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(3)

"I've got the keys," I said, lifting them in my fingers, jangling them. Her stare flicked and she flinched at the sound. "And then I'm gonna take you out of there. Give you a ride to somewhere you'll be safe."

She blinked and crawled forward, bumping her nose against a thin line of the wire, wrapping her fingers around the lattice. She breathed in deeply, whined a soft note, and then shuddered and took another deep breath.

She was deep in hindbrain, total survival instinct mode. A feral omega.

Fuck.

I'd had more than my fair share of experience with omegas, but never one this deep in their instincts. An omega in the frenzy of a heat was aggressive. An omega whose mate was in jeopardy was even more dangerous. An omega fighting for their life? I would have to move slowly and hope to god this little creature liked my scent. If my bike weren't destroyed, and she weren't a more important goal, I would've been riding toward the Wasted, ready to set them all on fire on her behalf.

Except they're not the ones who sold her.

I swallowed and reached toward the cage, putting my wrist to the wires. Her eyelashes fluttered over that near-black gaze as she scented me. She whined again, and I shuddered at the soft note of need. Not sexual. Just the imperative of an omega that needed an alpha's protection.

"I'm gonna unlock the cage now, Butterfly," I said, standing, pulling away only long enough to push the van doors open wider. She whimpered at my withdrawal, and the sound was a tangible yank on my chest. "You wanna tell me your name?"

She didn't make another sound, her fingers loosening from the cage as she scooted back. The shirt she wore was large, and it slid back on thin thighs, revealing a glimpse of underwear around her hips. Had she already been raped? I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat and scented the air carefully. Some thin wisps of betas, probably from handling her, and no hint of an alpha. Either she'd been cleaned thoroughly, or they'd kept her out of any alpha's reach.

"It's okay, Butterfly," I continued, as the lock protested each key from the ring I tried, metal jangling until I found the right one. "Just gonna get you out of there and take you somewhere safe, and then the rest will be all up to you."

Even if I had to defy King to make sure of it.

The poor little omega was shaking so hard at the back of the cage, she was making the walls rattle as I opened the narrow door. I pulled it open slowly, prepared for the girl to try and dive out and scramble past me, but she only stared. Stared and shook.

"Come on, Butterfly," I whispered, leaning back, offering her a clear view of the road behind me.

It wasn't much of a sight, to be honest. Our territory could be beautiful in its barrenness, but today was a gray day and it'd been a long time since we'd seen any rain. The world was dusty and baked from the heat of the sun.

I waited another minute until I heard King clear his throat too loudly to be anything but an impatient reminder to me that Ghost was trying to stall the others. And King was right—the last thing this omega needed was our whole crew to sniff her out.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you out of that cage and cleaned up. Somewhere safe, I promise," I tried again.

I'd been holding my hand out for her, and I moved it slowly into the cage, just an offer. She stiffened, eyes on my hand, and my body translated the freeze of her muscles a moment too late. A warning.

She lunged forward with a snarl, and I barely managed to retreat before the pain of her teeth sinking into the heel of my hand reached my brain. I grunted, stiffened, and found that black gaze fixed to my own.

She'd bit me. Still had those dull little teeth buried in my flesh.

"Bear?" King called.

Her gums were red, pretty bow lips pulled back in a grimace, and there was no understanding or apology in that gaze. My chest ached for her all the same.

"We're good. Gimme one more minute," I answered, keeping my voice as low as I could for her sake.

Her jaw loosened, and for the first time I saw a little glimpse of soft brown around the dilated pupils. She dove forward again and I flinched, prepared for another attack, braced to take whatever violence she needed to lash out with. Her arms nearly strangled around my neck—nearly, but not quite. The cage was rattling as she crawled her way out, into my chest, face pressed under my jaw, hot breath rushing over my neck.

"That's it, Butterfly," I said, looking at the oval bite mark, the blood beading at the heel of my hand. I wrapped my arms slowly around her waist, absorbed her delicate trembles into my broad chest, and waited one last moment.

Her scent was still harsh, crispy and burnt, stress clinging to thick brown hair. Her fingernails dug into my leather cut, clenching down to press hard into the muscles of my back. Soft little notes of sighs and whimpers were muffled against my throat. She clung to me like she was trying to claw her way inside of me, use my body as a shield around hers.

I would've let her.

She held her breath as I turned and rose. The bite on my hand was throbbing, blood welling and slipping against the skin of her thigh where I held her to my chest.

Chance was at the back of the truck we'd brought and he stared at her with his usual suspicion, a furrow knotting on his forehead, but he didn't say a word.

"She good?" King asked, circling from the passenger side of the truck, ice blue gaze digging into the back of the girl's head.