Chapter 34 part 1
Chapter 34 part 1
Nyra
The room smells wrong. Too much heat still clings to the air, like a storm that won’t pass. The omega is sprawled on the bed, wrists slack in their restraints, hair plastered to her temples. Her chest rises in shallow, uneven pulls, each breath shaky enough to sound painful. There’s a dull shine on her skin—sweat, slick, and something heavier that the staff don’t comment on anymore. I pause at the threshold, my stomach tight. My gloves feel heavy before I even put them on. This isn’t my body, but I feel it as if it were. I imagine the ache in her hips, the sting between her thighs, the rawness of her voice.
Cassian leans in the doorway like he always does. Clipboard clutched too tight. His jaw stiff. He looks the same way every time, and I wonder if he even notices anymore. Or maybe he notices too much. I step closer. Gloves first. Then the cart. Saline, cooling cloths, mild sedatives. Routine drilled so deep I could do it blindfolded. I wish I could. She stirs when I press the cloth to her forehead. Her eyes flicker open, wide pupils sliding over my face without recognition. For a heartbeat I think she doesn’t see me at all. Then her lips part, cracked and dry.
“Kill me. Please.”
Her voice is a rasp, a scrape of broken glass. My chest tightens. Training takes over before I can fall into the sound of it.
“You need water,” I tell her softly, lifting the bottle to her lips.
Her throat works, trembling, swallowing like it hurts. Tears streak sideways into her hair. I keep my hand steady, even when everything inside me screams to throw the bottle across the room, to rip the straps free, to say I’ll do it if she really means it. But I don’t. I can’t. Instead, I check her temperature, loosen the straps just enough to ease circulation, note the raw skin at her wrists where the leather rubbed too long. She winces when I shift her legs, muscles quivering with exhaustion. Cassian finally moves in, setting the clipboard aside. His face is unreadable, but his hands are careful as he lifts her shoulders so I can slide fresh sheets beneath. We work in silence, practiced, efficient.
“Faster,” he murmurs once, too low for the cameras to catch, and it jolts me—not the word itself, but the flicker of worry buried under it. Not for himself. For me.
We finish quickly, laying her back against clean fabric. She sags into it, breath easing, lashes lowering. It looks almost like sleep. Almost like peace. I step away, gloves snapping as I strip them off. Cassian locks the door behind us, letting the heavy click settle in the air.
We walk in silence. My skin crawls with the heat-scent that clings to me, refuses to let go. I rub at my arms through the thin uniform, but it doesn’t help.
“You okay?” Cassian asks finally, voice pitched low.
“She’ll sleep now,” I answer, too quickly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
I don’t answer. My tongue feels thick. He exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s not surprised. His knuckles go white around the clipboard. The corridor feels colder than the room, but the smell follows me like a stain. Each step echoes in the concrete hall, too loud, too sharp. Cassian walks beside me, and I realize his hands tremble once before he catches it—tightening his grip on the clipboard until his knuckles steady. I don’t tell him I saw it. I don’t tell him I heard the omega’s words replay in my head like a chant. Kill me. Please. Instead, I think of the other voice. The one that seared through sedation and walls and cameras. It’s the only difference. The only thing that keeps me from being the one whispering please into the dark.
We ride the lift in silence. My gloves are still in my hand, warm from use, and the faint dampness on my palms is making me restless. Cassian stands with his shoulder against the wall, watching the floor numbers climb. When the doors slide open, I move to step out, but he lingers.
“You eaten yet?” he asks.
The question is casual enough that it takes a second to land. “No,” I admit. “Not hungry.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He steps out first, tilting his head toward the corridor. “Come on. I’m grabbing something. You should too.”
I almost tell him I’ll pass, but there’s a flicker in his expression—something tight at the edges—that makes me follow. Maybe I don’t want to be alone yet, not with the omega’s voice still hanging in my ears. We cut through the quieter wing toward the small staff lounge. Cassian moves with the kind of ease that says he’s been here longer than he lets on, greeting a couple of passing techs without slowing. Inside, the air smells faintly of reheated meals and disinfectant. He heads for the vending unit, punching in a selection without asking what I want. A minute later, he hands me a packaged sandwich and a drink.
“You can glare at me for it later.”
We sit at one of the far tables. Cassian doesn’t rush to eat; he just leans back, eyes on me like he’s deciding how to start.
“You did good in there,” he says finally.
“It’s my job.”
“Plenty of people freeze up their first time handling one post-session. You didn’t.”
I shrug. “Freezing doesn’t help them.”
There’s a pause. He peels the wrapper off his sandwich, but doesn’t take a bite. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Not here, though.”
My pulse skips. “Then why bring it up now?”