The garage was dimly lit, filled with the scent of burnt rubber, metal dust, and something vaguely chemical.
Emelia remained where she was, back pressed against the cold wall, the ropes around her wrists now nearly loose.
Her breathing was slow and controlled as she focused entirely on the sound of footsteps outside the door—quick, agitated, and growing louder.
A lock turned.
She braced herself.
But it was the omega again. He entered silently, glancing over his shoulder before shutting the door.
His eyes found Emelia immediately, and she noticed how much paler he looked this time. His hands were trembling.
"I don't have much time. They'll be back soon. I managed to turn off one of the back cameras. There's a service door to the left, behind the tool cabinets. I'll leave it unlocked."
He whispered, crossing the room.
Emelia sat up straighter.
"What about these?"
She raised her bound wrists.
He hesitated, eyes flicking between her and the door.
