49: Beginning of Chapter 16

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Quinn awoke in a cabin.

A wood-panelled hut of old split oak, drooping from the abuse of time and weather. The beginnings of winter were kept out by its old, forsaken architecture. Each wall was stuffed full of dry straw; waxed cloth clumsily hammered into the planks to keep out the cold, and if Quinn placed her fingers at the edges of each crevice, she could feel the whistle of snow trying to enter.

But it was a small space, merely a room. A queen-sized bed, a table slotted against the walls, two chairs, and an old antique stove with a chimney that led outside, rusting and cracked. But it hissed with life and light, warm and smouldering, casting shadows against the walls. A pot bubbling upon the heat.

Immediately her eyes danced towards the woman that tended to her room, squatting, and feeding the fire. The flames crackled, spitting embers, dust and smoke. And outside, through thick panelled glass, she could see snow banked against the windows, rising higher by the minute.

A sudden blizzard.

No chance of escape.

Her body was cold and everywhere hurt. It burned when she moved, achy hot and stinging. And her eyes drew to the blanket, to her right leg wrapped thickly and held into place by a long slender piece of wood. A broken leg? Her scowl deepened. It would slow her down. Float hissed when she whispered its name, breathless and only on her tongue. Her neck was bare, empty—free.

Odd.

Perhaps, she could try to escape. Her eyes narrowed, lips pursed, ready to bolt. But the Alpha turned, and her features were familiar. A lifetime of memories. And Quinn remembered her with a cigarette to her lips and a tired groan on her tongue. She'd see her in the market, slouched against a stand, haggling prices. And she'd seen her in that cell on her first night in the Kingdom, with a warning to not touch the bars.

"Xin?" Quinn squinted.

But God it was such a long time ago, that it felt almost like a distant dream. And Xin simply looked back, eyes hard, but they did not disagree. She stepped closer and revealed thick fabric long-sleeve flannel, thick pants, and an apron draped around her waist.

There were no bruises on her face, no cuts on her lips, but Quinn supposed the abuse could be buried under all that fabric. The Alpha seemed a little better and healthier. And there was a simple leather collar around her throat.

But it was the hair sprouting from her head that had Quinn really looking, the curl of dark locks that extended to her nape. It'd been a long time since she was last shaved—a sign of self-worth, a sign of Omegas that didn't care for the shaving.

And truly the leather collar was just leather.

The Omegas here didn't use electrocution. Quinn's eyes widened and considered that fact. It must mean that they were confident that they could control the Alphas, confident that they were stronger. Or perhaps, her eyes narrowed, they had no reason to fear retaliation because the Alphas here were mated.

Xin did not smile, crouched over her checking her temperature. A hand to her forehead, her voice was thin. "You should be dead."

Her tone was crude. She turned; a lid lifted from the metal pot. The steam brought forth the smell of something meaty and good boiling on the stove. And it had Quinn aching with an animalistic sort of hunger, a growl spilling from her belly.

"I don't want to feed you," the Alpha announced, almost bored, exhaustion colouring her voice, and walked over with the wooden bowl. "I've spent enough time trying to get you to wake." She handed it to Quinn. And she nodded, thanks spilling from her lips.

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