Cassia: The Alpha King's Outcast Omega

All the rest of the day I barely speak.

No matter how much Lucian tries to talk to me, I refuse to be drawn into any conversation.

The offer of lunch doesn't get a response. I'm too busy thinking about how I'm going to get from the bed and downstairs without breaking my neck. Lucian's suggestion to take me to the garden tempts me for a moment. Not because I'll be getting fresh air, but because it would make escape easier if I was already outside.

But then I catch sight of my grey duffel bag in the corner of the bedroom and I realize I can't leave here without it. So, I have to make my escape from the bedroom. I can't leave my clothes and all my cash behind because it's all I have.

It's only mid-afternoon when my stomach grumbles and the urge to use the bathroom sneaks up on me that I realize I'm being stupid. Going on the run desperate to use the bathroom and with an empty belly won't get me far. So even though it feels like I'm using Lucian—tricking him even, I accept his offer of a meal when he next comes up to check on me.

After a much-needed trip to the bathroom, Lucian brings up a plate of steak and potatoes and leans against the wall beside the window like before. This time, him being there is not as comforting. It's downright awkward.

It's impossible not to feel guilty when Lucian is doing so much for me while I'm busy planning my escape.

"Is the meal okay?" he asks, startling me.

Just in time, I stop myself from tipping the plate over in my lap. I force myself to smile as I lift my head and meet his eyes. "It's good. Thanks.

"Then why are you just picking at it?" I wait for Lucian to ask the question floating around in my mind, but that's not the question he asks. He doesn't ask a question at all.

"Orion isn't a bad guy."

I return my gaze to my plate because I don't want to hear him defend his alpha. I especially don't want him to see the anger lighting my eyes at having to hear him do it.

"Sure."

Several seconds pass in silence. "If he said anything to—"

"He didn't say anything," I interrupt, working out how I can get rid of the contents of my plate so Lucian can leave. The sooner he leaves, the sooner I can get back to plotting my escape.

The silence is so long that I know Lucian doesn't believe me. Not that I can blame him. If I heard me, I wouldn't believe me.

"Well, you're safe here. You don't have anything to fear from Orion or anyone else here."

My smile is so bitter that I make sure to keep it aimed at my plate so Lucian can't see it. "Right, whatever you say."

"Cassia—"

"Thanks for the meal, but I don't think I'm hungry." I return my fork to my plate, leaving most of the meal untouched, knowing there's no way I can eat now. "I think I'd just like to sleep if that's okay."

To my relief, he doesn't push to know what's wrong because it's clear something is, and it's just as clear that I want him gone. That I want to be alone.

"Whatever you need."

In a second, he's across the room, retrieving the tray from me. I don't bother faking another smile because I know he'll see right through it. Instead, the moment Lucian lifts the tray, I turn my face away and settle back in bed.

At the doorway, he pauses. "Just shout if you need anything else."

I nod, but I don't turn from the bookcase I'm staring at but not seeing, and I don't respond. There's nothing I need from him, nor from anyone in Winter Lake.

He opens the bedroom door and lets himself out, closing it quietly behind him.

For hours I lay still, trying to rest but unable to relax because my mind won't shut off. I keep finding reasons to stay, reasons to ask Lucian for help because out of anyone who I've met so far since I ran from the Kieran's pack, he's the only one that I think would help me.

But then I remember he's a beta here. He can't help me, even if he wanted to, not if Orion ordered him not to.

Soon it gets dark enough that Lucian returns to lower the blinds and draw the curtains. I pretend to be asleep when he switches on the lamp beside my bed and turns off the overhead lights. I lay perfectly still, taking slow measured breaths until he leaves.

His steps are light, unhurried, as he makes his way down the thickly carpeted hallway.

After a short time in the bathroom, the sounds of running water stop and he moves into what must be another bedroom further down the hallway. The sounds now are quieter as he readies himself for bed.

 And then the house is still. Even then, I don't move. Not until I know he's gone to bed. Not until I'm sure he must've fallen asleep. Then, only when the house is completely silent do I sit up, peel the covers off me, and use both hands to shift my injured leg to the floor.

At the first contact my toes make with the floor, I suck in a breath at the sharp pain. For several minutes I sit on the edge of the bed, just breathing in and out as I work myself up to standing. I consider not going through with it.

I tell myself that tonight is too soon, that I should wait until the following night since I'm sure I can feel bone grating against bone despite Minerva's assurance that my leg is healing fine. But she sounded so confident, I remind myself. And as pack healer and a former nurse, she would know better than anyone.

Which means I'm going to have to trust that my recent collision with the bathroom floor didn't cause any more damage.

So, after taking another deep breath and releasing it, I grab the headboard. While still keeping all of my weight on my uninjured left leg, I pull myself up.

Everything in me screams to sit back down, that this is going to end badly, and my injured leg is screaming the loudest. But then I remember Minerva's promise to return in a couple of days with the crutches. What if in the time she's away she realizes I was behaving strangely, or she has time to realize what I am?

And then there's Orion. I think about the way he was watching me from the lounge doorway with a look in his eyes that warns me he's a threat. No, I have to leave and now, while I still can. Even if I have to hop out of town on one leg, I have to go.

With gritted teeth, I hobble over to my rucksack, taking breaks along the way. If anyone saw me, they would probably die laughing. It feels like it takes an hour, and I lean on and against everything on my way; the wall, dresser, bed, everything.

By the time I get there, I'm bathed in sweat, hot, flustered, and my leg feels like it's about to fall off. The bandage feels like it's cutting into me despite my leg looking no different when I examine it. It feels worse, and that's the main thing. I hesitate about hobbling back to the bed since I'm halfway between the bed and the window, but then I think about how much effort it took to retrieve the bag in the first place.

If I backtrack so I can sit to pull some clothes on, I don't see myself getting back up again.

No, I'm going to have to go as I am, in a pair of too-large sweatpants borrowed from Lucian and his t-shirt. With no sign of my sneakers, it looks like I'm going to have to go without them. Lucian may have tucked them under the bed, but I can't risk bending to look. Not after my collision with the bathroom floor. I can't afford to have something like that happen again.

Once I have my bag open on the dresser, I take a couple of minutes to scan the contents. To my relief, it looks like everything is there, from the protein bars I packed for the bus journey but didn't finish, my clothes and, most important, the cash I hid in a sock at the bottom.

Even the clothes I was wearing during my accident, my skinny jeans, t-shirt, and denim jacket have been laundered, neatly folded, and placed on top.

I don't have to be a rocket scientist to work out who is responsible. Lucian.

Doing my best to ignore the pang of guilt at seeing the other secret kindness he's offered me as I zip the bag, I swing it onto my back. It proves to be a mistake.

It's sheer luck that I regain my footing after nearly overbalancing and once I do, I stare at the window. It feels like I'm staring at the other side of an ocean with the barest hint of land visible, that's how far it seems. Impossible.

There isn't even anything I can lean against. After taking another deep breath before releasing it, I brace myself for the pain and start hobbling. It goes slowly, painfully slowly, and I have tears streaming down my cheeks by the time I get there.

But I'll get away. That is the most important thing, I tell myself as I open the curtain and quietly pull up the blind. Once I have the window open, I perch on the windowsill and lean out a little just to gauge how big of a drop it's going to be.

Too far.

Okay, maybe not too far. But since I'm going to have to land on my feet, I have no idea how that's going to feel on my injured leg. But at least the small backyard that backs up to a dense looking forest is grass and not concrete. Ordinarily, a two-story jump would be nothing, not worthy of any kind of hesitation at all, but gazing down at the distance between me and the ground, I can't help but swallow nervously.

Am I really going to be able to stop myself from crying out? What if the pain is so bad that I pass out like I did before?

But I don't have a choice. I'm desperate. I brace myself for what will undoubtedly be a painful landing, there are no two ways about it. It's going to hurt. A lot. I'm just going to have to be smart about how I do it.

Maybe I can land on my uninjured leg and then immediately roll to absorb the impact. That might work, and it's better than the alternative of tossing myself out of the window and hoping for the best.

I shift a little, readying myself to slide my uninjured leg out first. It goes well, and I let out a quiet breath of relief.

 Yes, I can do this.

One more leg and the hardest part will be over, I tell myself as I ignore the jumping part because that part doesn't sound like fun. As I ease my injured leg out without bending it any more than I need to, someone shoves the bedroom door open and I startle.

With the house deathly quiet, it was the absolute last thing I was expecting, so I automatically twist to see who it is. Only to plunge head first out of the window.

I don't have a hope in hell of silencing the piercing scream that pours from my mouth as I hurtle down, my eyes fixed on the grassy incline rising up to meet me.