Page 37 of Terror

“Thank you,” I say.

“They poisoned the drug.” Dreikx walks away.

“What?” I stand.

He turns. “They packed poison in it and distributed it. Thousands will die.”

“That’s horrible.” My chin quivers.

“The question is, what can you do about it?”

“I can’t do anything. The money isn’t mine yet.”

Dreikx nods. “But patient zero always knows more than others. Are you patient zero?”

“Probably. If I had to guess, I’d say yes.”

“Of course. An easy victim and loaded with paper currency. You’re a gold mine for them, which is why you were targeted. At zero, people slip and make mistakes. Try to remember how Travis approached you and the days following it. Where did you go? What kind of testing, if any, have they performed? I’m specifically curious if anyone tried to induce sleep while you were in heat. Have they?”

“No. Why?”

“Because, before Melanie died, she mentioned fertilizing Omega eggs. I’m wondering if they’re in need of a fresh batch.”

That night, the power never came. And neither did the Hordesman. I’d know. I waited for his return.

Chapter 14

Tabby

In the early hours of the morning, Arkin’s aunt, Sidone, chased the reporters away from the property, but they haven’t left the area. They’re lingering across the street on public grass. Some even brought tents. I stayed in the library. Not even reading could keep my mind off Arkin. People come and go from this house with good memories, but they depart nevertheless. I wonder if he’ll leave like my parents did. One minute here, the next, a stranger in a blue uniform is telling me my parents have died. Perhaps Dreikx will bring me the news this time.

Appliances peep. The electricity came on. Yes! I check the clock. It’s four fifteen in the morning. Odd timing. I descend into the laundry room and press Start on yesterday’s load, then go back upstairs and grab the remote. I turn on the TV, curl up on the sofa, take a sip of water, and yawn.

On the screen, a replay of last night’s scene unfolds from a tiny phone camera someone held at the window. It shows Regha Alphas running across the yard, barging into a home with a red stripe over the door. What the hell is going on? A red stripe over the door means the home houses an Omega. A minute later, an Alpha drags a blonde out of there. She’s clutching her blankets, and as the camera zooms, her eyes show dilated pupils.

“Help!” on older woman shouts and grabs the male by his hand. She pulls, trying to stop him to no avail.

The camera zips to the right and zooms out. Terror approaches, his gait slow, steady, deliberate, eyes focused on the Omega, emerald armor stretching his black T-shirt. He stands before the Horde male and extends a hand toward the Omega. As she goes to take it, the Alpha holding her tucks her behind him. This Alpha wears a long brown leather kilt, and he’s bare chested, unlike Terror, who wears a black-on-black uniform, covering him from neck to toe.

Terror barks at the male.

The male shows his teeth and crouches.

He leaps.

Heart in my heels, I stand. Arkin skips to the left. The male misses and lands in a snarl. They circle each other. A smile plays on Terror’s lips as if he’s enjoying this. The person with the phone camera leaves the house and crosses the street to get a better view.

“Give her to me,” Terror says.

The Horde taps his chest. “She’s mine.”

Terror rushes the male, grabs the back of his head, and starts banging their foreheads together. Once, twice, three times. The male’s knees fold, and Terror holds him up by his braid, one hand gripping the male’s neck. Terror glances at the camera, blood trickling from his nose. “This Regha male stood in the way of me and an Omega.” He drops the male and approaches the cameraperson. “Omegas, hear me. My name is Arkin, and I am the Alpha Collector. Betaren is laced with poison. If you have ingested it and are still breathing, maybe you will live. If you have never ingested it, all the better. You should pack a single sack and wait for the Collectors. We are coming for you.” His forked tongue swipes the blood over his upper lip. “Not just you. By now, every person involved in the Betaren project should see a Telean pod landing in their fucking yard. Every house, every street, every city across the country, across the world. Come morning, your bodies will decorate the electric poles, and I will fry you alive. People will cheer because they got their power back. Win-win.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a baggy of pills, and shakes it, his eyes determined. “It’s too late to run.”

Fear grips my chest, chokes me. Outside, a Telean pod lands. They’ve come for me. Terror knows, and he will kill me. He’ll show me no mercy. I spin on my heel and dash upstairs. In the closet, I grab a stool and climb it to reach the backpack. Got it. I shove my favorite jeans in there, a few T-shirts, a bra. I slip on my underwear and socks, then running shoes. My hands shake. I have no idea where I’m gonna go. Dreikx is downstairs, the Alpha female is outside, and even my kitchen exit is out of the question because I have no idea if the chef returned. But I am leaving. He’s gonna fucking kill me.

I shoulder the backpack and peek out the door. Finding nobody, I creep down the hallway and listen for footsteps. I poke my head around the corner. Empty foyer. I just gotta make it across this open area to the other wing of the house. After taking a deep breath, I exhale and sprint, then plaster my body against the wall of the other wing. I peek around the corner again. Still clear.

I move and run right into a hard chest. Terror grabs my shoulders and pins me against the wall. Claws have torn his shirt and blood covers his face, fresh splatters all over his clothes. He rattles loudly, and I wonder why I didn’t hear him before. Terror is finished with his busy day, and now, he’s come for me last, probably to savor killing me.

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