Keller

Bennett got out of bed on the third day.

When he knocked on my door, and I opened it, I was half-expecting to see Teresa or some clumsy Omega. But it was him.

It was Bennett, carrying a small backpack.

He pushed the door open and breezed past me, staggering a little into the room.

“You look like you need more sleep,” I muttered.

“You look like you've forgotten we have a lot of things at stake,” Bennett shot back. “Dress up, we need to get to Getta.”

...