амега (peterick)

vingt-huit.

"We need to get out of here," I hiss. "Right now."

Dallon excuses himself from the conversation he's having with his parents and their friends (they're talking about work, and other boring life stuff, which I couldn't give a rats ass about). "I hate to dishearten you, Pete, but Patrick sent you that text more than half an hour ago," he says. "Wherever he is now, it's not home."

"So what you're saying is we do nothing, while Leo Fucking Newcomer runs away with our boyfriends."

Dallon's mother interrupts our disquiet (not for the first time) to ask me about said boyfriend; how he's doing, and whether or not he has a job and such... Here's a funny story for you, Mrs. Weekes: My boyfriend was doing fine, until I decided to ditch him to come to this ball - a secret auction selling Omegas as slaves, if we're going to be specific - which turned out to be a trap. So no, as much as I want to believe the lies I'm telling you, my hunch is telling me quite the opposite. Also, not to be rude, but my teeth are starting to ache from feigning this smile, so I'd really appreciate it if you stopped talking, and let me hyperventilate in peace.

Once his mother is done making me feel like a horrible person, Dallon politely dismisses her and turns to me. "What I'm saying is it's a hostage situation," he mutters. "Leo will come to us, and he will give them back to us-"

"-if we give him what he wants in exchange," I finish for him. "Slight problem with that, though. We don't know what."

He already has Patrick and Buzz, so what more could he want? Unless Patrick himself is all, I can think of nothing else. But if that were the case, he'd just take him and leave, wouldn't he? No pit stops. Then we'd know we really fucked up. Subduing Buzz was the initial diversion to lead us here in the first place, and there's even less reason for Leo to want him. It makes the most sense for them to come here.

Then there will be a bargain; if we're to get them back, we're to come forward with a payment. But if it's not Patrick, then what is it? Has the Omega been using me to protect himself from Leo? To hide something from him that he's also chosen to hide from me?

"Dude, you've gotta chill out," Dallon utters. "You're making me nervous."

The room spins about me, the soft, tranquil hubbub transforming into a pandemonium. I can hear my foot tapping in my ears, echoing, like a pair of sneakers slamming against concrete as they run through a deserted underpass. I'm lightheaded. "I can't be here," I decide, shaking my head incessantly. "I'm going home."

I discard my half empty glass of punch onto the buffet table and go to make an exit, but Dallon grabs my wrist to stop me, twisting his head to speak directly in my ear. "Look around you," he says. I do; there are Alphas everywhere. I recognize a lot of them from the auction. They loiter near every possible exit; the windows; the doors; even the fireplaces in the ballrooms. "None of these people are going to let us leave," he says. "Leo will come to us."

"I can't do this, Dal," I whisper.

"Yes, you can, Pete." Dallon's palms are ice cool against my cheeks. I'm looking at his nose, but my pupils wander like they're blind, and I'm trying to move my limbs, but I'm frozen on the spot, trapped inside a dead vessel of a body with my face on it. "I need you to breathe, Pete," Dallon instructs.

I need to get out.

I need to turn back time, to before we met. Do things differently, to avoid this mess altogether. Maybe I don't need to go out for a cigarette right now; maybe I should stay in tonight; maybe I shouldn't have agreed to buy my parent's house after they left. What jobless, adolescent snob is going to be capable of making sure said house isn't going to fall down on top of him?