Page 45 of Met Your Mate

My omega's fear in my veins is like throwing a hurricane on top of a fucking tsunami. I steel my gaze and make eye contact with Mr. Peters.

"We're going. I can help. I have her, she will lead us to her, I know it," I declare with conviction, holding onto my mate in our bond as tight as I possibly can.

'I'm reaching now, Lucas... please.'

Remy's dad must read something on my distracted gaze because of Freya's continued pleading in my head. He nods, then the dark-haired woman beside him demands we get checked over in the truck by an agent who will ride along while we hunt these fuckers down.

I nod, not giving a shit, as long as we get fucking going.

They can poke and prod at me, but all my attention and focus will stay on Freya and getting her where she belongs.

In my arms where I'm never, ever, letting her go.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

ELLIOTT

The effort it takes not to break the good soldier’s hand that is currently checking over my beta is a bit concerning. I should be happy Casey is getting some medical attention even if there's really nothing we can do about it right now. I'm overwhelmed with so many sensations and my alpha side trying to take control of my actions that it's difficult to distinguish friend from foe.

The adrenaline flooding every corner of my body is heightened by the pack bonds buzzing with anxiety and urgency.

"You are all dehydrated and in need of some food, and I'm going to suggest some mental health services once this is all taken care of since I obviously don't have anyone’s attention," the OPS agent sitting in the back with us says, mostly to himself.

The man in full tactical gear is right. Now that Casey isn't being touched by someone who isn't pack, my focus is split between the front and back windows.

I have no idea what this vehicle is, but the back is large enough to fit six people, three per bench, against the sides. The center leaves room for their shit and our legs. The back doors open wide with two bulletproof windows covering half the exit, allowing us to watch the trail of similar trucks follow us.

Above our heads are smaller windows, but without standing to peek through, all I can see are tree leaves and branches as we hustle after the monsters who took Freya and Kate.

The driver and passenger seats are surrounded by more bulletproof windows. I don't know how we lucked out having Remy's dad leading the search, but he's currently laser fucking focused on the rough terrain in front of him. Beside the big alpha is another agent with a camouflage helmet on, giving me nothing to distinguish the guy from the other two in the back with me and my pack.

Remy follows in the passenger seat of the vehicle behind us with his mom driving and his newfound pack in the back. I caught a glimpse of Beckett and Nick jumping into Remy's truck with four other agents before the door of ours was slammed closed.

The drive is nothing but absolute chaos while Lucas perches between the front seats, directing the search party with the firm hold he has on Freya's bond.

I fucking hate to admit it, but I'm pretty sure my link to her is the weakest. I did nothing more than give her the orgasms she needed and the bite marks demanded of both of us. I held myself back the moment I met my girl, and I held back during her heat for fear of taking advantage of my omega.

I've also done absolutely nothing to nourish the bond between us these long weeks since her heat. I have wallowed in guilt, then lost myself to an alpha haze of protectiveness and rage.

And now, here I sit chasing after my omega with the OPS and Lucas leading the charge feeling nothing but self-hatred for everything I have and haven't done. I've been nothing but a shitty fucking partner, pack mate, and alpha.

"What's going on?" Ronan shouts, breaking through the loud chattering that just exploded from the walkie talkies around us.

Swinging my attention to the back windows again, I see OPS vehicles breaking away from our line of pursuit.

"Look out the windows above you!" Remy's dad instructs.

Scrambling to my knees is really damn awkward in this rocking tin can, but I manage and what I see has me locking up tight.

Similar trucks to ours but in black instead of brown are scattering every which way as OPS agents hunt them down.

Holding on for dear life, I watch some of them get surrounded while others disappear from view. I'm entranced by the efficiency of the OPS when a sharp pinch radiates through my temple, making me hiss and sit back down lest I fall over.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Lucas roars and slams his arms down on the armrests. "I think they just took a sharp turn further up. Freya's hurt; they're driving carelessly!"

Shit, I didn't even realize we were getting closer to her until she was hurt. What does that say about me? I didn't know my mate was close until she hits her fucking head. What kind of protector am I if I don't help my mates before it's too goddamn late?

"Hurry!" I snap, only to be drowned out by all the other male voices freaking the fuck out as we're thrown around with each bump and bush we plow over.

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