Chapter 10
In a dark room, the moon was the only source of light, casting everything in a faint, ghostly blue. Shadows clung to the cracked wallpaper like stains. The air was still—too still—thick with the scent of mildew and something metallic beneath it, like dried blood.
The door creaked open, the sound slicing through the silence like a blade. A rush of colder air followed as a red-haired girl stepped in, her shoes crunching softly over bits of broken glass on the floor.
"Emma… Emma…" she whispered softly, her voice trembling as she approached the crouched figure in the corner.
The girl sat with her hands on her knees, silky black hair cascading over her legs like dark waves, damp from sweat and tears.
Emma looked up. Even with tears streaking her cheeks, she smiled. A soft, cracked smile.
The red-haired girl—Bella—frowned in return, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. She didn't let them fall. Instead, she forced a smile too—fragile, shaky, pained.
"I tried… Emma, I really tried, but I couldn't." Her voice cracked, barely more than a breath. She wiped her puffy, tear-stained face with the coarse sleeve of her sweater, which smelled faintly of smoke and desperation.
Emma didn't speak right away. She leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, the warmth of their skin a small anchor in a world slipping away. Her honey-brown eyes released fresh tears that slid down her skin in silence, warm trails against cold cheeks.
"I know, Bella… you did. You tried. I understand," she whispered, and Bella let out a weak, bitter chuckle, tasting salt on her lips.
"I watched her die in my arms," Bella said, clutching her head, fingers digging into her scalp. Her voice trembled.
"She died because she was too weak to save you. Or herself. Your sister… she died right in front of me, Emma. Because—"
Her sentence broke off into sobs, crystalline tears carving lines down her red-rimmed eyes, falling like raindrops onto the wooden floor with a quiet patter.
Emma lowered her head, her neck limp. Her gaze dropped to the ground, dull and heavy with despair. The weight in her chest was unbearable. It felt like she'd already died inside. A hollow ache spread through her ribs, stealing the strength from her limbs.
"Am I going to die too, Bella?" she asked quietly, the words barely audible, like a breeze through dead leaves.
Bella's eyes widened. She stood up abruptly, grabbing Emma's shoulders tightly. Her fingers were ice-cold and trembling. "You're not going to die, okay? Trust me. We'll find help, I swear."
But Emma only looked away, an empty smile flickering on her lips. Bella's grip trembled.
"Hey! Look at me! Nothing's going to happen to you!" Bella pleaded, voice sharp with panic.
Emma just laughed. A hollow, broken sound, like glass being stepped on.
"You saw what the police did. They don't care. They never did. We're just wasting our time... in the end, we'll die like animals," she said, her voice filled with quiet resignation.
She shook her head slowly, bitterness lacing her next words. "The only sin I committed… was thinking someone like her could ever truly love me."
Bella's hands slipped from Emma's arms like water.
"That's not tru—"
BAM!
The door exploded inward with a thunderous crack, wood splinters flying like shrapnel. Dust burst into the air, the force shaking the walls.
Both Omegas flinched, their hearts hammering in their chests.
A figure stepped through the broken frame.
Her pure black hair flowed like silk across broad shoulders, her scent arriving before she did—an overwhelming mix of lavender and smoke. Her eyes were two obsidian voids that shimmered in the moonlight. She looked like a devil summoned straight from hell.
She smiled—slow, wicked, and knowing.
Then came that voice. Calm. Cruel. Like velvet over broken glass.
The voice that haunted Emma's every nightmare.
"Missed me, sweetheart?" she purred.
Emma's eyes widened in horror.
No... NO, NO—
She screamed in her head, but no sound left her lips. Her body froze. Her breath caught, tasting copper. Her eyes betrayed the terror flooding her veins.
BAM!
Another gunshot rang out.
Bella gasped, blood bursting from her mouth as the bullet struck her chest. Her body staggered, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.
Emma watched in frozen shock as the warmth of Bella's blood splattered across her, soaking her already stained white shirt. The metallic tang hit her tongue. Her hands shook violently. Her ears rang. All she could hear was static and the sickening choke of her friend dying beside her.
Everything blurred.
Too fast.
Too much.
She clutched Bella's shirt, shaking her, begging her to stay, her fingers slipping on blood-soaked fabric, but it was useless.
Bella drew her final breath.
And then the voice came again—sharp, slicing through the haze like a knife:
"Rule 4: Never run away from me."
Emma snapped. The scream tore from her throat, shrill and raw, echoing off the walls like a wounded animal's cry. She kicked and thrashed, flailing in raw panic. But it didn't matter.
It never mattered.
She was an Omega.
And the woman before her—she was stronger. Always stronger.
Emma sobbed, twisted, and writhed, but her cries only echoed unanswered. No one would come.
They were pets. Property. And nothing would ever change that.
The only thing missing was the collar around her neck.
"P-Please... l-let me go!" Emma screamed, her voice cracked and raw, like shattered porcelain.
The Alpha only laughed darkly, hoisting her up like a sack of potatoes and slinging her over her shoulder. Emma could feel the woman's inhuman strength, the flex of muscle beneath her clothes, the chill of control.
"You always run from me… I really ought to punish you, you know."
Her words tore into Emma's soul. At this point, she would've given up everything—everything—just to be free.
She was thrown into the backseat of the Alpha's car. The leather burned her bare arms. The door slammed shut with a finality that felt like a coffin closing.
People passed by on the street.
They saw.
And yet—they did nothing.
Only a few Omegas looked her way, their expressions painted with pity. But none of them moved. None of them dared help.
Because that's what it meant... to be a Marked Omega.
At that point, Emma couldn't tell the difference between a human and a monster.
Because—
All those words people tossed around—human, monster, hero, villain—they were just semantics.
Someone could call themselves a hero and leave a trail of corpses behind them.
And someone else… could be branded a villain for simply trying to stop them.
Plenty of humans were monstrous.
And plenty of monsters knew how to pretend to be human.