Page 68 of The Omega Thief

Attiker didn’t add it was to keep him alive because now he had another two people he seemed to have the same responsibility for.

Attiker didn’t have so much as something to lash himself down with. The kids and the damn cats were as secure as they could be in the bucket, but he wasn’t. He knew the current at this time of day would take them to the harbor, but he absolutely didn’t know if it would get them there in one piece.

What had he been thinking?

He gazed at the two boys all the time he gripped the raised edge of the bucket as the raft swayed and dived like the birds that gathered by the harbor when the catch unloaded. Good job he had a strong stomach. He was soon soaked, though, and the bucket was filling with water. Not that either boy seemed worried. If anything, the younger one was grinning like the whole thing was some adventure. Attiker even laughed himself when water hit them both in the face, and they giggled.

It was a little forced, though. The king’s cats were less than happy. It was well known that cats of any breed didn’t like water, and these were no different.

“What’s your names?” Attiker nearly had to shout to make himself heard as he kept an eye out for the rocks which were coming up on them fast.

“I’m Fetch, and she’s Carry,” the older one shouted back. It took Attiker a moment to absorb the little one was a girl before he smiled at their nicknames.

“No, I meant your real names,” he said.

They looked at each other. “They’re our real names. It’s what Maxim calls us.”

Attiker knew instantly where they were from. “You live in a King’s Castle.”

They nodded, but he didn’t need the confirmation. King Jordan, Raz’s great-great-great uncle or close enough, had tried to solve the problem of the street rats, as they were often still called. It had started with the orphans of soldiers killed in the wars. His idea had been good, but a lack of supervision in the homes had quickly made them a breeding ground for every sort of thievery imaginable. Orphaned kids, whose mothers had either died or given them up because they were unable to feed them, had simply abandoned children on the doorstep.

And people who worked out how to take advantage of the stipend paid by the palace took over the royal orphanages very quickly. Locally always called the King’s Castles. He’d visited one where the kids didn’t even get names, just numbers. He wasn’t honestly sure if that was better or worse.

And as if he’d just been slapped, the realization that the people’s champion could actually do something about them, it hit him hard.

“My name’s Attiker,” he said firmly. “I—” But whatever he was going to say was drowned out as a sheet of water hit him. Neither of the kids laughed at that one. When he’d blinked the water from his eyes and choked it from his lungs, he followed the kids’ now frightened gaze and realized they were coming up on the headland before rounding to the harbor. He looked at the huge cliffs that guarded the entrance and knew without a shadow of a doubt they were way too close to them. All it would take was to hit one, and the raft would be in pieces, and so would the kids. Hell, he didn’t even know if they could swim, but the current was going too fast for that to make any difference. They were just too damn little.

He had a split second to decide as a rock loomed ahead. They were heading right for it. If they hit, the raft would shatter, and they would all die.

If the raft shattered, so would Raz’s chances, and he couldn’t allow that. “Listen to me,” he yelled and shrugged off his soaking wet shirt. Both kids glanced at him in fear. He had to keep it simple. “Whatever happens to me, if you get these two cats to the palace, you’ll get a huge reward.”

The older one’s mouth dropped open.

“Can you remember my name?”

“Attiker,” he shouted back.

“You must get the cats to the prince. Promise me!”

Both of them nodded, and Attiker looped his shirt through one of the lats and tied it in a knot. Then he took one last look at them and slid over the side.

The water was freezing. He hung on to the scrap of shirt and kicked with his feet. Not that he would make any difference by doing that, more to keep his limbs moving. He knew he was as addled as Ash often accused him of being when he decided to use his body as a buffer between the raft and the huge rock, but he was out of options. If he did this, there was a good chance he would die. If he didn’t, they all would.

For a breathless moment, he wasn’t in the freezing ocean about to hit a rock that would split him open. For a moment, he was in the warm water of the bath with Raz the night they had bathed together the first time. Raz would be a great king.

His wolf had gone, and Raz still lived, so the rumors that one would die without the other were clearly wrong.

A wave of water hit them like a wall, and for too many seconds, Attiker thought he was drowning. A sharp pain stung his back like he’d been pierced by a sword, and then the raft spun so quickly he let go of the shirt and just grabbed the raft, but his hand was slipping. The little hand that clasped his other made him stare in shock. The older boy was holding him, and the younger was desperately trying to hold the older, but he was too heavy. It was insane. He heard a snap, and the planks ripped away from the raft, and the rest of the raft went spinning away from him.

Attiker blinked and saw the raft heading to the dock. And miracle of miracles, someone had seen it. He heard shouting and knew the kids would be safe. The cats. Raz. But the stupid small piece of wood he clutched to simply spun in the opposite direction. Attiker shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see the rocks coming for him. It would hurt just as much either way.

He’dneverreallybelievedin heaven, but Attiker knew that somehow laid on a soft blanket, warm, and comfortable, he must have done something right in his life to get there.

He felt a stubbled cheek scrape his and a soft kiss and sighed happily. He could get used to heaven. It was certainly less hard work—

“It’s about goddess-damn time he woke up.”

Attiker’s eyes shot open at Grandmother’s annoyed voice. What the seven hells was she doing here? Didn’t heaven have any standards?

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