Page 62 of Feral Omega

My gaze snaps toward the plumes of gray drifting up through the trees, resolve hardening in my chest. Whatever happens, I need to be ready to seize my moment. No hesitation, no mercy. Just the single-minded determination to survive that's kept me alive this long.

The chopper banks hard, swinging in a wide arc to avoid alerting the target. Through the tinted plexiglass, I catch a better glimpse of the sprawling estate nestled in a hollow between two towering peaks. My breath catches in my throat at the sight—a cluster of rustic log buildings centered around a palatial glass mansion, all encircled by a high fence bristling with razor wire and armed patrols.

No chance of just strolling through the front gate, then.

That muscle twitches in Thane's granite jaw as he surveys the compound, those piercing obsidian eyes missing nothing. "Doesn't look like our intel was exaggerating," he rumbles, the words edged with rare approval. "Place is locked up tighter than a bank vault."

Valek shifts beside me, the buckles and straps of his gear creaking as he straightens from his lazy slouch. "The more security, the better," he purrs in that smooth, lethal rasp. "Means our little bird's got plenty of fat fuckers to slice open when we hit them."

A shudder wracks me at the sinister glee in his tone, the almost sensual way he speaks of dealing death. The others don't seem phased by his dark bloodlust. Just another day at the office for these depraved beasts.

Wraith, as usual, says nothing. Just sits there, those icy eyes boring into me from beneath the hood that shadows his masked face. He never blinks, and I doubt it's just because he can't fully close his scarred left eye.

I'm not sure if he's actually looking at me, though. Sometimes it seems like he spaces out. Loses himself in the dark corners of his mind, staring emptily at whatever he was looking at before he got lost.

Not unlike the zombie Whiskey accuses him of being.

Or maybe he has the most complex mind out of all these alphas and he just doesn't have anything to say.

The chopper banks again as the pilot searches for a suitable landing zone. My knuckles ache from gripping the useless rifle strap so tightly, the weight of it across my back like a millstone.

At last, the bird settles onto a narrow ridge a few miles out from our target, skids crunching into the fresh powder. The rotor blades slowly cycle down, their whup-whup-whup fading to silence as the engine winds down.

Thane is on his feet in an instant. Even with a skull mask covering his face, I can always tell it's him by how he moves like a lion. "Listen up," he says, already barking orders. "We'll be approaching the compound on foot from the south to avoid any roaming patrols. I want absolute radio silence once we're within a click. Plague, you're on point with me and Wraith. Valek, Whiskey, you'll be providing overwatch with the .50 cals."

Whiskey groans. "Never get to blow shit up anymore."

Thane ignores him. "Keep our omega with you at all times. If you talk about her over the comms, refer to her as the little rabbit, and she's a 'he' for now."

Whiskey perks up. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"Speaking of which," Thane says, tossing me a plain black balaclava, then a matching hat with two long fabric flaps hanging down from the sides like a rabbit's lop ears. "Put this on so you blend in. Your hair will draw too much attention otherwise, but we need to be able to tell it's you without a shadow of doubt."

I pull the balaclava down over my head and neck, then tug up the edge to cover the lower half of my face before gathering my hair and securing it inside the wool. I'm sure I look the part of the code name that seems to be growing on them, but if it helps me blend in when I escape, so be it.

"Ivy, you stick to the center of our formation, you hear?" Thane adds as if reading my mind. "No wandering off, no playing the hero. One foot out of line and I'll have you hogtied and carried the rest of the way. Understood?"

I bristle at the condescending command, the implication that I need to be kept on a leash like some unruly pup. But I know better than to voice my indignation. Defiance will only breed harsher restrictions, more chains to bind me.

So I simply nod once, keeping my gaze carefully schooled into an impassive mask as we begin filing out of the chopper into the biting chill. My combat boots crunch into the fresh powder, the icy flakes swirling in little eddies around my calves.

One by one, the others disembark, a well-oiled machine of brutal efficiency. Even Wraith moves with a strange, loping grace for one of such massive stature, each footfall sending tiny avalanches cascading from the ridgeline.

I can't tear my eyes away from the feral alpha. There's something almost hypnotic about the steady rasp of his breathing, that eerie whisper of air through the filters of the gas mask that covers most of his face.

A feather-light touch on my elbow breaks the spell. I start, whipping around to find Plague watching me with those unsettling gold-tinted lenses.

"Easy," he murmurs, that deep, rasping voice sending an unexpected shiver racing down my spine. "Just thought I'd lend a hand."

He gestures to the open bay, offering to assist me down to the ground. I eye him warily for a beat, caught off guard by the unexpected courtesy.

I war with myself for a moment over whether or not to take his hand. When I decide refusing is more trouble than it's worth, I slip my gloved hand into his, jolting a little when he puts his other hand on my waist and easily lifts me down.

He may be leaner than the rest of them, but he's still a powerful alpha who moves me as easily as air.

My boots crunch as they sink into the fresh powder and Plague releases his hold on me, taking a step back to allow me to move past him and into the center of the group, like Thane instructed. A few stray flakes catch on my lashes, the icy kiss raising goosebumps along my bare arms.

The rest of the team is already forming up, weapons at the ready as they scan the silent, snow-blanketed ridge.

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