Page 38 of The Omega Trials: Part One

Titus

“Again,” I order, jumping up and getting back in a fight-ready crouch.

Ecker is a bit more lumbering as he gets to his feet. It’s almost noon on the day of the games and we’ve been sparring since breakfast.

The Estate’s gym is in what used to be a natatorium.

The pool was filled in and replaced with wrestling mats and one boxing ring. The old mosaic tiling can still be seen on the floor in between sections of weights and other workout equipment. Bright sunlight streams in through the weathered glass roof.

“It won’t matter how much we practice if it tires me out for tonight.” Ecker pushes back his sweaty hair.

Ecker’s strong and lean, but barely clearing six feet, he’s on the smaller side for an alpha. There’s a good chance his opponent tonight will be bigger. And when you’re at a size disadvantage, you have to be meticulous in technique.

A better fighter can beat a stronger fighter any day.

“We’ll go one more time,” I push, and he sighs in agreement.

We’re facing off as the double doors swing open and three alphas storm in.

“Cerulean!” They barrel toward us, and the few other people in the gym drop what they’re doing to watch.

I’m getting real sick of putting on free shows for these assholes.

They all look ready for a fight. The rage and aggression rolling off them tests my control. The beast in me wants to return the sentiment in spades, but I know we can’t afford to get into trouble right before our first Trial.

Flanked by his brothers, the leader in the front growls. I recognize him as the pompous asshole otherwise known as Yves Cyan. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

I have no idea what their issue is, and a quick glance at Ecker confirms he doesn’t either. “You sure about that?” I take a step forward, Ecker moving seamlessly in sync with me. “Because while you were busy counting beans and bleaching your asshole, I was fighting in the darkest, ugliest pits. Places that would have you shitting your pants, pretty boy.”

“How dare you speak to me—”

“I’ll speak to you however I damn well please. But right now, this conversation is over.” I shove him in the chest and cut right through their little pack.

I hear them growl in defense, but I don’t look behind me—I know Ecker has my back.

We move quickly through the winding corridors and hallways back to our wing.

Sinclair arrives at the door from a different part of the Estate at the same time as us. Her sweats and shirt are splattered with a rusty color.

My heart rate spikes before my brain processes that it’s not blood.

I reach for the door handle before her. “What have you been up to?” I bark.

She looks down at her dirty clothes proudly then answers with a smile, “A little redecorating.”1

“Redecorating?” I repeat, realizing it must be paint all over her.

“This redecorating . . . ,” Ecker begins suspiciously. “Doesn’t have anything to do with the Cyans, does it?”

“Don’t worry.” Her pleased smile only grows. “I just did what I had to.”

She patronizingly claps him on the shoulder then gives me a devious look. The fire behind the icy blue is just as tantalizing as infuriating. “But you know all about that, don’t you?”

“Jesus Christ.” I grab her arm and throw the door open, yanking her inside with me. “Get yourself cleaned up and get rid of those clothes while we deal with whatever the fuck you got us into.”

Bishop looks like shit.

He’s been sick since breakfast, puking up any food and suffering stomach pains when there’s none left. He must havegotten food poisoning from something, but none of us seemed to get it. Knowing he wasn’t going to be in peak shape tonight is one of the reasons I pushed Ecker so hard this morning.

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