Omega's Second Chance (Hells Wolves MC Book 4)

by J. L. Wilder

  His heart twisted. “Here,” he said, giving her the breakfast he’d prepared. “You need to try to eat something. You’re going to want to keep your strength up.”

  She set the plate down beside her on the mattress and looked at the food as if she didn’t quite recognize it, but a moment later she picked up a strawberry and put it in her mouth. She chewed deliberately, as if she were following instructions or copying something she’d read about in a book. But she ate it.

  Weston retreated from the room, needing to be alone with his thoughts, and went upstairs to his attic bedroom. Once there, he lay down on his bed and waited for the need to sleep to come over him.

  It didn’t come.

  He had been ordered. He knew he’d been ordered this time. Hawk had told him to go to sleep after he’d finished with breakfast, and he was inarguably done with breakfast. He should have felt a pressure on his mind, sending him into blackness. He should have been unable to keep his eyes open.

  But there was nothing.

  Weston didn’t know what to think. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Was something wrong with Hawk, perhaps? Were his commands no longer working on the rest of the pack?

  No, that couldn’t be it. Because he’d just seen Lita forced to obey an order she had tried with all her might to resist.

  It wasn’t Hawk who had changed. It was him.

  But that didn’t make sense either. What could have happened to Weston that would make him able to resist a command from his alpha? Surely, he would have noticed something of that magnitude. And whatever it was must have been very recent because he had been forced to follow orders just a few days ago, hadn’t he? He hadn’t wanted to go through with that burglary of Hal’s Liquor, but the command Hawk had given had forced him to do it. He had definitely felt the compulsion of the order on that occasion.

  What had happened between then and now to change things?

  Of course, there was one thing of significance that had happened. But could Charity’s return have had that kind of effect? He didn’t see how. All right, yes, he was completely in pieces about it. Seeing her again was simultaneously wonderful and heartbreaking, and he was having to rewrite the narrative of his own life that he’d clung to all these years. It was a tremendous upheaval, and he was completely overwhelmed.

  But what did any of that have to do with Hawk?

  He couldn’t make sense of it. All he knew was that there was nothing weighing on him and nothing compelling him to obey, for the first time in his life.

  He stared up at the ceiling, thinking. Would his newfound freedom only apply to orders about sleeping? That really didn’t seem likely. But was it possible that he was exempt from all orders now, that Hawk wouldn’t be able to compel him to do anything against his will? That would mean he wouldn’t have to take part in any more illegal activities. He would be free of that. Maybe he could get a job and start contributing a regular salary to the pack, replacing the funds that Hawk withdrew without care. Or maybe—

  He sat bolt upright.

  How had it taken him so long to realize what was truly possible?

  Hawk had Charity as his prisoner. He was planning to do terrible, unthinkable things to her. And the rest of the pack had been ordered to help keep her captive and not to allow her to escape.

  But Weston was no longer subject to orders.

  He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Was it really possible? Would he be able to get Charity out of here? If Hawk’s authority over him was truly broken, then there would be nothing to stop him.

  She wouldn’t be able to go back to her apartment and her job, he knew. That life was over for her. But anything would be better than what awaited her here. He could help her sneak out under cover of darkness. And this time, they would go together.

  All the mistakes they’d made as children could be set right.

  He couldn’t believe it. How often did a person actually get a second chance?

  They would go on the run. They would leave the state and go as far away as they could, where Hawk would never find them. And together, they would start a pack of their own. They would have no one to tell them what to do. It wouldn’t matter who was an alpha and who was an omega and who wasn’t anything at all because it would just be the two of them.

  At the realization that this was actually a possibility, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years began to well up inside him.

  It was hope.

  Or maybe it was love.

  Or maybe it was both.

  He rolled out of bed slowly, stood up, and walked to the door, feeling as if he was moving through a dream. This couldn’t possibly be real. It was too good to be real.

  But he was pretty sure that it was real, nonetheless.

  He made his way down to the spare room, hoping that Robbie was still on duty, and opened the door. Sure enough, there was Robbie, chatting with Charity as if there was nothing imbalanced or strange about their current situation at all.

  “Pretty much everybody left,” he said. “It’s just Hawk, me, Rick, Weston, Gino, Lita, and Norma now.”

  Charity shook her head. “Damn. Where did they all go?”

  “We have no idea,” Robbie said. “I guess you never saw any of them around town?”

  She shook her head. “Never. But I wasn’t exactly looking.”

  “Well, that makes sense.” Robbie looked up at Weston. “What’s up? Didn’t Hawk send you to sleep?”

  “Yeah, he did,” Weston said. “I only took a short nap. Let me do this for a bit.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Robbie nodded. “I’ll just sit outside, yeah? I’m still supposed to be on duty, so I don’t think I can leave.”

  “That’s fine,” Weston said.

  Robbie gave him a searching look and then disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

  “You’re back,” Charity said.

  “I am.”

  “What brings you?”

  He took a breath. He had to admit that he wasn’t at all sure what to say, or how it would be received. “Charity,” he began, speaking very quietly in case Robbie could hear them. “You don’t...you don’t want to live here, do you? You don’t want to be one of us.”

  “You know it’s not that simple,” she said. “I can’t be one of you, can I? I’m not like you and Robbie and Lita. I don’t have choices or freedom. If I did, I’d love to be part of this family. But as it is...”

  “As it is, you’d rather leave.”

  “But it doesn’t make any difference.”

  “What if it did?”

  She looked up at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “What if you didn’t have to stay here? What if there was a way for you to get out again?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He leaned in. Her face was mere inches from his. “I think I can help you.”

  Chapter Ten

  CHARITY

  Weston hadn’t outlined many of the details of his plan—if he even had a plan—and as the sun went down, Charity felt increasingly nervous and jumpy.

  It didn’t help that Rick had been assigned to guard duty all afternoon. Unlike Robbie, who was friendly, or Gino, who passed his duty hours sitting outside the room and leaving her alone, Rick seemed to enjoy harassing Charity. He paced the room making snide comments about her body and what Hawk would be doing to her as soon as he got the chance until she felt like snakes were crawling over her skin. Hurry, Weston.

  He came back the moment the sun had vanished below the horizon. “I’m on the night shift,” he told Rick.

  “Good luck with her,” Rick said. “She’s a minx.”

  Charity felt sick. She’d done nothing but sit there and ignore him all afternoon. How could he suggest that she’d been flirting with him?

  Weston stood in the corner and crossed his arms. “I can handle it,” he said, and Rick smirked and left.

  As soon as the door was closed, he hurried to her
side. “Are you okay? He didn’t try anything, did he?”

  “No.” Her eyes widened. “You said no one would be able to. You said Hawk had given orders against it.”

  “Yeah, well, something’s up with Hawk’s orders,” he said. “How do you think I’m managing to get you out? I don’t know how widespread the problem is. I was climbing the walls knowing you were in here with him. But if I’d come in before now, I would have given the game away, and we wouldn’t have been able to escape.”

  “I’m fine.” She was rattled, though. How much danger had she been in with Rick?

  Weston seemed to read the fear on her face. “It was probably fine,” he said. “Whatever the problem is with Hawk, it doesn’t seem to be affecting anyone but me. I was just anxious about it.”

  “But what’s going on?” she asked. “You’re not subject to orders anymore?”

  “I don’t think I am. We’re about to find out.” He crossed to the window and pushed it up, slowly and quietly, careful not to allow it to squeak. “I’m going out,” he said. “I’ll whistle when I’m ready, and you follow behind me.”

  He hoisted himself up out of the window and dropped out of sight. A moment later, she heard a low, chirping sort of whistle.

  It cut her to the core.

  She knew that whistle.

  It had been the signal they’d used to call to each other as children, when they’d snuck away from the house and into the woods to spend time together. For a moment, she felt such a longing for him, and for those times, that she almost couldn’t move.

  The whistle sounded again.

  Right. She had to go. She hurried to the window and carefully slithered out headfirst. Weston was waiting below, and he caught her in his arms.

  “We’re out,” she whispered.

  “It’s not over yet.” He set her on her feet, took her by the hand, and ducked low. “Come on.”

  She allowed herself to be pulled along. Were they going into the woods? Would he want to shift and run away? The idea made Charity a little nervous. It had been so long since she’d assumed her wolf form. Would she even be able to do it on command, or would it be the way it had been when she was little, fumbling through the transition, still learning the mental and physical cues that would eventually be second nature?

  But they didn’t enter the woods. Instead, they cut around the outside of the garage until it stood between them and the house. A motorcycle stood in the shadows.

  “Get on,” Weston said.

  She stared from the bike back to him. “I don’t know how to ride this.” She had run away from the pack before she’d come of age. She’d never had a bike of her own, never learned how to ride.

  “Get on the passenger seat,” he said, somewhat impatiently. “I’m driving.”

  “You’re driving?” She was having trouble keeping up. “You’re coming with me?”

  “Of course, I’m coming with you! You think I can stay there after I helped you escape? They’d throw me out in a heartbeat.”

  She hadn’t expected this. “Weston—”

  “Look, if you want to go off without me, that’s fine,” he said, his tone suddenly brusque. “But we can talk about that later. Right now, we have to get out of here before someone notices we’re missing. Get on the bike.”

  She got on the bike.

  Weston climbed on in front of her, and Charity wrapped her arms around his waist. She knew how to ride a bike as a passenger—she’d done it plenty of times in her childhood and her teenage years. But she had never done it with Weston. She leaned into him, welcoming his warmth, feeling more secure with his body pressed against her.

  She definitely did not want to go off on her own.

  She was overwhelmed with gratitude that he was coming with her. She could only hope that her surprise hadn’t turned him off the idea, that he hadn’t decided he didn’t want to stay with her anymore.

  The bike rumbled to life. Weston wheeled away slowly, not accelerating. Charity supposed he was trying to keep things as quiet as possible until they got a little further from the house.

  How long would they have before someone came looking for them? If Weston was supposed to be in charge of watching her all night, and if the others had gone to bed, they might have until morning. They could cover a lot of ground in that time. But then, that was only if they were lucky. It was also possible that someone would come to check on them at any minute and would discover that they’d gone missing.

  Weston followed a dirt path that wove between the trees. Charity couldn’t even see where they were going, since he hadn’t engaged the headlight, but he seemed to know the way. Had this path been here when she was younger? She didn’t think so. Where did it come out?

  She had her answer quickly. They emerged onto a stretch of two-lane highway that was completely devoid of cars. “Okay,” Weston said. “Hang on now. We’re going to give it some gas.”

  “Where are we going, Weston?”

  “South, for now.”

  “But...where?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “We’re just going. We’ll figure it out as we go. Okay?”

  It was a scary thought, but then, it wasn’t the first time Charity had run away from home without a clear plan. “Okay,” she agreed, wrapping her arms more tightly around him. As long as he stuck with her, this would be all right. And even if he did decide to leave her—

  No. She wasn’t going to think like that.

  Weston hit the accelerator and the bike leaped forward beneath them. Charity clung to him, surprised by the speed. Maybe it was just that it had been so long since she’d been on a motorcycle, but she didn’t think she’d ever ridden quite this fast before. The wind whipped her hair back from her face and stung her cheeks—she pressed her face into Weston’s back for protection—and Charity felt happier than she had in a long time.

  Then she heard a sound that made her heart drop into her stomach.

  It was the plaintive howl of a wolf.

  And it was coming from somewhere behind them.

  “Shit!” Weston yelled, and the bike accelerated even more. Charity felt a surge of terror. That howl could only mean one thing. Somewhere, not far from here, a wolf was distressed about something.

  Maybe it was just a regular wild wolf.

  But then, she didn’t think there were any wild wolves in these parts. Having a pack of shifters in the area tended to scare them off. Which meant that the cry had probably come from Hawk or one of his pack.

  This meant that they probably knew Charity and Weston had escaped, and any hope of a head start was gone.

  There was nothing she could do but hold on to Weston as tightly as she possibly could while he gunned the engine, doing his best to coax more speed from his bike, hoping against hope that he might be able to put a little more distance between them and Hawk.

  A turnoff came up quickly on their left. Weston pulled in. Charity looked back and saw to her relief that there were no skid marks on the highway. They might still be trackable, of course—it was hard to be sure without going back and checking for scent or sign—but at least they hadn’t left a large visible trail right on the road itself, and there was something to be said for that.

  He left the road quickly and pulled into the thicket of trees—and now, of course, they were leaving tire tracks in the dirt, and they would be easy to find. She was about to shake his shoulder, to point this out, but he brought the bike to a sudden halt and killed the engine.

  “Do you hear anything?” he asked urgently.

  She listened. She heard only the usual innocuous sounds of the woods. “No.”

  “No bikes?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay, come on.” He hopped off the bike and grabbed a duffel bag that had been tied to the handlebars, which she hadn’t noticed until now.

  She slid off the seat, landing lightly on the ground. “What’s going on? Where are we going?”

  “We have to ditch the bike,” he said. “They’ll
be looking for that. They’ll notice it’s missing right away. We’re going to have to escape on foot instead.”

  “But...but we’ll never make it on foot,” she protested. She would know if anyone would that there was only so far you could get without a means of transportation. They would be caught and dragged back. And once they were recaptured, things would be far worse for both of them. Her only hope in that pack had been the fact that some of the members still liked her and wouldn’t want anything too awful to happen to her. She very much doubted they’d feel that way now. And Hawk would be far less lenient—with both her and Weston—than he had been before.

  Weston took her hand, hiking the bag up onto one shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Less talking, more running.”

  There was wisdom in that. She nodded and fell into a jog alongside him.

  Every now and then they stopped, Weston cocking his head as if he was trying to hear something. Charity tried to listen too. The first three times this happened, they heard nothing, but on the fourth stop Charity distinctly heard, off in the distance, the sound of roaring motorbikes.

  “Fucking hell,” Weston whispered. “Okay. Here we go.”

  He led them to a tree, bent over, and made a step with his hand. Understanding, Charity stepped in and he boosted her up to grab the lowest branch. She hauled herself up and onto it.

  “Keep going,” Weston called. “High as you can go.”

  She kept climbing, and after a few moments, she became aware of the tree shaking below her as Weston began to haul himself up too. What this was all about, she wasn’t sure, but Weston did seem confident and that was good enough for her. She ascended until she could go no farther, until she was up among the highest branches of the tree and unsure of their ability to hold her weight.

  Weston joined her. “Good,” he whispered. “Good. Now we’ll see.”

  “See what?”

  “If they manage to track the bike. What they do next. They won’t be able to see us up here, not from the ground. Too many leaves in the way. We’ll figure out what their next move is, and then we’ll know what ours should be.”