Page 61 of Feral Omega

A sudden burst of turbulence rocks the chopper, Ivy's hands flying out to brace herself against the juddering fuselage. Before I can think better of it, I'm on my feet and moving toward her.

But she shoots me a withering glare that sparks with defiance.

"I'm fine," she bites out.

I pause, rooted in place by the ferocity burning in her stare. A silent reminder that she is no wilting flower in need of an alpha's shielding embrace, no matter how badly I might crave to provide it.

And now the others are watching me closely.

I sit back down, cursing myself for finally falling prey to the one vice that's always given me reason to think myself above my fellow alphas.

Being a slave to my instincts.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

IVY

Iwatch the rugged peaks of the Redtooth Mountains slide past the helicopter windows, their snow-capped heights scraping the bellies of low-hanging clouds. The vast expanse of untamed wilderness stretches out in every direction, a world away from the sterile confines of the Refinement Center that have been my entire existence for years until now.

The hours pass like minutes as I take in every second, every breathtaking view. I've never known what it's like to truly have a home, but the nostalgia that grips my chest feels like how I imagine it would feel to come back to your childhood home, wrapped up in all the warmth of those bittersweet memories. The woods, the mountains, the freedom. Tears prickle my eyes, but I bite them back, well aware the alphas surrounding me are watching my every move and unwilling to show even a moment's weakness.

They're more somber than usual. Even Whiskey hasn't made one of his wiseass cracks. It's not fear, exactly. These beasts are much too stalwart and experienced for that. If anything, it's excitement tinged with the sobriety that comes with knowing what they're doing is dangerous. That they could go out as five and return as fewer.

It should scare me, but that's the thing about getting pushed to the point where you long for death so many times. The threat of mortal danger loses its sting after a while.

My heart pounds with a heady mix of excitement and nerves as we draw nearer to our target—a secluded mansion nestled high in these remote peaks, smoke tendrils curling lazily from its chimneys.

This is it.

My first taste of true freedom, even if it comes cloaked in the guise of a dangerous mission alongside these brutish Ghosts.

A shiver races down my spine, raising goosebumps along my bare arms despite the layers of tactical gear they gave me to put on over my clothes on the ride. The heavy fabric is stiff and unfamiliar against my skin, a far cry from the thin, threadbare shifts I grew accustomed to at the Center. But it's the rifle slung across my back that weighs heaviest, a constant reminder of the violence to come.

They didn't trust me with a loaded weapon, of course. Just an empty husk to complete the disguise of a soldier in case I get spotted on the mission, a thin veneer of inclusion that fools no one—least of all me.

I'm a prisoner being dragged into the fray.

A lamb among wolves whether I like it or not.

Still, a reckless thrill surges through me at the prospect. If I play my cards right, keep my wits sharp... this mission could be my chance. My opportunity to finally break free from these alphas' clutches and disappear into the vast, unforgiving wilds.

I would be utterly alone. No allies, no shelter from the punishing elements or the vicious predators that roam these peaks. Just me, my wits, and whatever supplies I can scavenge if I manage to slip away.

If I'm lucky, I can find bullets for my empty gun.

A tendril of doubt snakes through me, hissing of all the ways I could die a brutal, bloody death in these merciless heights. Ripped apart by the slavering jaws of some starving beast, frozen solid by the bitter winds, dashed to pieces on the jagged rocks...

And that's if an alpha who's even hungrier doesn't find me.

My jaw clenches as the images assault me, fingers tightening around the butt of my useless rifle. No. I can't afford to dwell on the risks, can't let fear cloud my judgment. I've come too far, endured too much to wither now.

This is my chance. Maybe my only chance.

And I have to take it, no matter the cost.

"That's it." Whiskey's gruff voice shatters my reverie. He's leaning forward, peering through a pair of high-powered binoculars as the structure nestled between the mountain peaks draws nearer. "Smoke coming from the main house. Looks like our boy's home."

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