Trying to change the subject to escape the building fire in her cheeks, she again focused on the coffee table as the safest thing in the room before starting off in a voice a little louder than a whisper, "You mentioned there have been notes? What did they say? If they're not from Tobias, then who are they from?"
"We're not entirely sure. I wanted to show them to you. Alphas tend to try to hide things from us to 'keep us safe,' when really it does anything but." Selah responded, complete with eyeroll and finger quotes all while staring at her mate who stared right back with a heat in his eyes hot enough to make Abby squirm. She was surprised the couch hadn't gone up in flames yet.
"I was outvoted," Selah continued, "because some of OSF didn't really see it as a threat. Sanctuary's director didn't want to disturb the progress you've made for something that was 'vague.'" More finger quotes this time accompanied by disbelieving snort.
"What are the notes about?" Abby asked, gathering her courage. While Killian might think her to be tough, Abby knew better. If today hadn't been more overt, Abby would have been perfectly happy to be oblivious to the threatening notes. She wasn't brave.
"I have digital images of the previous notes that were intercepted by Sanctuary's security team. You can read them and maybe you'll know who wrote them." Selah pulled her tablet from her large tote, powered it on, and passed it to Abby.
Abby noticed her hands shaking as she reached to accept the tablet. A deep breath in, hold for a count of seven before breathing out for four. She could do this. Pulling the tablet closer to her, she looked at the first image on the screen.
The note had been typed so she didn't have handwriting as a clue, but when she started reading it she at least knew the source of the text, "This is from Marc's doctrine. Christoph's father."
She looked up and Selah nodded in confirmation. "Father made us all memorize it. When he would discipline us - my mother and I - he would make us recite passages. He'd say it was to make sure we knew our place. Know how proper Omegas were to act."
"Unfortunately," Malcolm ground out between clenched teeth, "that fanatic manifesto is easily available online so it doesn't help identify who sent it."
Abby felt a dark, rolling threat of power from the Alpha still on one knee by the door. It had started when she'd said the word 'discipline.' This level of anger should have sent her scurrying from the room, but while Selah and Malcolm provided a sense of security, some instinct told her that when Killian exploded, she'd be the safest person in the room.
Selah's hand came over to touch the tablet's surface. "The next three are the same. Typed. Just copied from the manifesto. Could have been anyone. The only difference is that the fourth one looks like it was manhandled. It's folded and creased repeatedly where the other two look very... new. The last one and the one from today though are different."
Selah flicked through the photos until she came to an image of a different note. The first image she'd seen looked to be a crisp, white piece of computer paper. This note was tattered. Worn. The paper was spotted with something that could have been coffee or dirt. It looked like someone had balled it up and straightened it out over and over. But the biggest difference?
It was handwritten.
With penmanship that Abby recognized with only a bare glance.
Setting the tablet down on the coffee table like it leached poison into her skin, she gasped and felt tears come to her eyes. She raised her hands to cover her mouth, but a distressed whine slipped out. She smothered the sound as quickly as it had escaped, but couldn't hold back her yip of surprise when Killian's imposing form was suddenly kneeling on the floor next to her with his arm pressed to her knee.
She froze.
Killian's growl was tangible. Deep. Dark. Powerful.
She felt it roll from him, vibrating up and down the length of her body. Fluttering through her blood and into her very bones, her Omega instinct called her to relax into him. He was an apex predator. He'd protect her. Her Omega wanted to roll around in that sound. Wanted to coat herself in him. He smelled like a bonfire. He smelled of smoke and something else. Something sweet.
She caught herself before she leaned in to scent him properly. Luckily, he was focused on the tablet and didn't notice her slip, but at a soft sound from Selah and as unobtrusively as possible, she shifted her knee away from the Alpha's arm. Moving only her eyes, she slanted a look towards her friend and counselor.
Busted.
Selah's eyes twinkled and her lips tipped up in a slight curve as her eyes darted between Killian and Abby. Abby turned her head slightly to fully catch Selah's attention, and let her eyes widen in silent communication.
Selah's smile only widened.
Abby decided the best course of action was to not encourage her nesting, hormonal, and very pregnant friend. She turned back towards the tablet only to be snared by Killian's blue eyes.
Escaping his vibrant stare for something only slightly less devastating, she pointed to the tablet. "That's my father's handwriting."
The dueling growls that came from both males rippled through the omegas on the couch. Abby heard Selah gasp and let out a breathy, admonishing, "Malcolm!" but she was too busy trying to contain her own conflicting reaction.
On the surface, Abby felt herself freeze like a mouse caught in the sights of a cat. A very large, very predatory cat. Beneath that first response though, Abby clenched her thighs together as a very primal reaction to his sound and his presence sent a shaft heat straight to her clit.
If the flaring of his nostrils and the molten heat of his eyes was any indication, she hadn't managed to hide her reaction. At all.
At her inexplicable reaction this is massive, stranger, Abby felt the heat of her instinctual arousal turn to ice. She couldn't do this. She was never going to be with an alpha again. Ever. Alphas brought nothing but pain. Selah had shown her that Malcolm wasn't like that, and the other omegas in the OSF seemed happy with their mates, but that wasn't what fate had in store for Abby.
Fate was a fickle bitch, and Abby had had enough. She'd decided to take control of her own destiny and that meant no alphas.
Even Abby could smell the fear in her changed scent, and if Killian's reaction was anything to go by, he was just as confused as she was. His fearsome growl had morphed into a rusty, gravely purr that she should have found grating, but she felt it sink into her bones on a different path than his growl.
The rumbly purr felt like a soothing caress down her spine, calming her nerves and encouraging her to relax. Abby didn't realize how much the sound had reached into her spirit until she found herself no longer sitting nervously on the edge of the couch but melting into the back of the cushioned surface.
Once her brain caught up to her body, she couldn't hold back the little yip of distress and knee jerk twitch further away from the alpha and closer to Selah. His purr stopped abruptly, and before she could do more than settle against her friend, Killian was up and moving back to his post by the door. His smokey scent reached out to her with her passing, and Abby wasn't sure, but he smelled of surprise and confusion. What did the massive, scary alpha have to be confused about?
Seemingly the only one in full control, Selah brought the discussion back to the notes, "You're sure this is your father's writing? It's kind of worn."
"Yes. It's his. He's left-handed like I am so it makes his writing very distinctive."
Selah dropped a plastic zipper bag marked with the word evidence in big red letters on it on the coffee table. Like the image on the tablet, the small note inside was folded, creased and worn, "This is the one from today. It looks like the same writing."
With only a quick glance, Abby nodded her agreement, "It is. He didn't wear it out like that though. Father insisted everything be clean and precise. He would never have folded correspondence or let it get worn looking. Someone else did that."
"Maybe the person who delivered it," Malcolm postulated.
"Possibly. It could be an indication that the person was nervous. It could also be that it had to pass through multiple hands, and the wear and tear is just from passing it around." Selah's tone sounded thoughtful.
"But why the difference between the first notes - typed, precise, generic - and these last two notes that are obviously much more personal?" Malcolm asked.
"I didn't really look at the last two notes. Do they have the same message from the manifesto?" Abby glanced down at the table. She had a hard time focusing on the words on the paper. Her father had caught her reading his correspondence one time. One time had been enough. Even this far away from her father, her fear of him had her brain avoiding making the words make sense.
Selah reached out and lifted the baggie with the note from the table, "The last one was the same as the first ones. Just more lines from the manifesto. This one is different. It's more personal."
She rested the note on Abby's knee to make it easier for her to read, but Abby found her eyes automatically drifting away from it. Phantom pain across her back and thighs and the echo of sobs wouldn't let her eyes trace the words. She clenched her hands into fists digging her nails into her palms, letting the pain ground and center her. He wasn't here. She was safe in Sanctuary. He wasn't here. How could she recover and move on if she couldn't even make herself read a damn note?
Feeling both heated anger and icy fear rush through her at the same time causing her to flush with heat, she straightened her spine, uncurled her nails, and made herself reach for the evidence bag. Smoothing her fingers over the note through the plastic, she let her fingers drift over it several times before deliberately tracing the edge with a single finger.
Small steps, Selah had said so many times over their session.
Small steps.
Touching a note once in her father's possession was a small step.
Making her eyes follow her finger to trace the border of the note, Abby traced the small, rectangular, creased note. Still not allowing her brain to let the squiggles on the form into words, she traced the outside edges of the page before taking a breath and letting her eyes follow her finger over the interior creases of the note.
Letting herself become lost in the simple, repetitive motion, she waited until her heart slowed before she let her finger lure her eyes to the first line of text. Her heart rate spiking once more and fear sending a shiver down her spine, she forced herself to read the text of the note out loud.
Abigail,
Simple. Simple task for a simple Omega. Even though you are a failure, you still have uses. You are property. Remember your place. I'll see you soon.
Too numb to do anything other than stare lifelessly at the words blurring together on the page, she lifted her shaking hand from the note and wrapped her arms around herself trying to hold in the cries that ached to burst free.
"What set off the alarm?" she asked tonelessly.
Malcolm stepped into her line of sight, "Someone made an attempt at an unauthorized entry at the receiving dock."
"Where was this note found?"
At the silence, she raised her gaze to Selah to find her looking at Malcolm. After a look filled with an entire silent conversation, Selah nodded at her mate before turning her gaze to Abby.
"It was found taped to the door of your dorm room earlier today." Selah whispered as if saying it softly could lessen the impact.
She kept her eyes locked to Selah's even when the other Omega and the rest of the room turned wavy with tears that began to trickle down her face.
She couldn't go back to her father.
She wouldn't.
Never.