Page 13 of Shadowlands Omega

“We will return to investigate after we have apprehended Trash City,” I say. Sipho nods. “Remember, Riders, I want Trash City taken alive.”

“Hau!” my Riders chime in unison, the hard clash of so many voices startling the Omega, who jolts. She looks to me immediately after she settles as if…seeking comfort or reassurance.

No.

I take another step further away from her, and then another…but…I cannot divorce myself from the sight of her swollen eyelid —and I did that— or the sound of her ragged breathing.She suffers. She should. And Dorsten is offering her his water skin.No.

“Killer, come to me.”

The Omega jerks again, dropping her gaze from Dorsten’s extended hand without touching the skin he holds, though she looks at it longingly. She bites her bottom lip. It’s full and the prettiest colorscape, pinker towards the center and ringed in a light brown. I frown, not liking that I am noticing the small details. I have seen Omegas before and not been so distracted by them. Omegas are distractions. This is why Shadow Lords since long past do not take them. I must remain steadfast. I must remember my duty to my people.

The Omega picks her way across the dense forest floor then stops, still not close enough to touch. “I will not waste time and you cannot afford to waste time, given the state of your many injuries. We know that your family intends to seek refuge in Undoline with your extended kin. Do they intend to reconvene there with Trash City?”

She drops her gaze to her feet and shakes her head. She touches her ear and then flinches and I wonder if it’s pain that causes her to react like that to the touch of her own flesh.Her fingers are long and elegant, nails trimmed short. Palms likely callused if she makes food for a living and dismembers Alphas for sport.

“I don’t know, my Lord,” she says.

Anger makes me stiffen.“Do not lie to me, Omega.”

She shakes her head, gaze only flashing to meet mine infrequently. Ihatethe way it feels when our eyes meet. Like a clashing of swords. Sparks rain over me. “I’m not, my Lord. I don’t know where my family’s gone and Trash City only mentioned different rendezvous points. Point L, Z and…and I think there was one other. I just…I can’t remember. I swear. I’m sorry.”

“And you have no idea what those letters may mean?”

“I told you, Yaron,” she says, expression flashing with frustration as her gaze strays once again to me. “I’ve never met those people before today and I had no idea my family was working with them. I don’t know anything.”

I am already advancing on her. She is already stumbling back. All of my Crimson Riders are watching us, watching me as I grip her neck roughly. My other hand is on the small of her back, fisting her hideous shift. “You seem to think you know me well enough to call me Yaron.”

“I…” She blinks, her eyes so fucking beautiful. But they’re both brown. The Fire Fate has one blue eye. Perhaps their resemblance is only coincidental. I am momentarily distracted and don’t hear what she says when she answers.

“What, Omega?” I hiss.

She swallows. I can feel her throat work beneath my palm. “I said that I was sorry. I don’t know why I keep calling you…that. It just feels right…my Lord.”

My beast whimpers.Whimpers. “You…” I start. There’s a cracking in the woods that draws my beast’s attention. His ears are already visible — massive flaps on the side of my face — and they twitch in the direction of the crackling. It’s picking up now and it’s not coming from the east or from the west, but the north.

“My Lord?” the Omega whispers, voice softer than ash.

I look back into her eyes, and then at her body, bent slightly backwards over my arm. Her feet are sunk into the mud up to the ankle. We are off of any known path. Yet she walks without complaint, without shoes on because I have given her no other choice.

She looks over her shoulder. “Is…”

“Can you hear it?”

She shakes her head, eyebrows furrowing over slightly swollen eyelids from where I struck her so monstrously. “I don’t hear anything, my…Lord. But I can feel…something.” Her fingers fan over her stomach.

My beast releases a short, flared roar in response to the pain that warps her expression. My hands instinctively pull her against my chest, my gaze sweeping the woods to the north. I open my mouth, but before I can speak, a rolling thunder comes crashing through the woods. Distant, at first, it quickly becomes louder. Louder and louder.

My beast is sniffing at the wind, suddenly capable of disentangling itself —me— from the scent ofher.And the scent I pick up? It’s foul and familiar, a scent one who crosses it never forgets. If they survive the encounter.

“My Lord?” Sipho calls. “The heart trees are migrating…”

The heart trees are agitated, few that there are this deep into Paradise Hole. Though the rains have not yet begun, their roots have begun to move, disentangling from the soft soil as they carry themselves away to safer ground. I am reminded fleetingly of the horses’ unease at the church when I intended to burn the Omega and her family. The natural world senses something immense approaching. Like the coming of the dawn. Or the end of it.

“They’re coming,” I shout, clutching the Omega close. “Riders, defensive formation!”

My beast surges, my hand forming a paw with claws before returning to a hand, though my claws remain. “Omega,” I hiss in a tone I’ve never used before, because though I try to remain severe, it’s difficult to infuse hatred and rage into my tone when she looks up at me like that, eyes wide, hands cupped beneath her chin as if she’s nothing more than a battered orphan seeking shelter.Shelter her.“Remain by my side, no matter what comes through those trees.”

“What’s coming, Yaron?”

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