Page 43 of The Omega Trials: Part One

Now that we’re even in number and I’m no longer fending off one attack after another, I’m able to look around for my brothers. I spot Bishop about twenty yards away.

He’s defending himself from two prisoners, one with a sword and another with a thick length of chain. He’s much slower than he should be and getting quickly winded.

No wonder,I think as I sprint toward him. He’s been puking his guts up all day, essentially fighting on an empty stomachandsick.

No, not sick.Poisoned.

The thought alone makes my body shake with rage. Especially when Bishop’s too slow to dodge a swing of the chain.

It wraps around his neck. The prisoner grabs either end from behind, trying to wrangle a choking but thrashing Bishop into position for his sword-wielding partner.

I’ve never felt this kind of terror before.

Bishop’s face reddens, and his veins pop on his neck and forehead. The man with the sword flexes his fingers and tightens his grip, both hands wrapped around the sword hilt. Bishop’s eyes, flickering back from gold to hazel as he suffocates, meet mine as the man brings the sword back for a heavy swing.

I get there, but not fast enough.

The sharp blade makes contact with Bishop’s side right before I snap the man’s neck.

I know he’s on the verge of blacking out when his eyelids flutter, and with the new gash, he crumbles. The roar I unleash as his knees hit the sand is inhuman, beast-like. My heart shatters, splinters burying themselves in my lungs as I struggle to breathe.

I call Titus’s name. I don’t know where he is, but I know he will come.

Everything turns red and the next thing I know, I’m choking the prisoner with his own chain as Titus impales him with a spear.

Titus, even though he’s a few feet away, shouts to be heard over the sounds of fighting. “Take this.”

He begins unwrapping the cloth bandages around his torso. “You need that!”

“No, he does.” His tone is definitive and sure.

All it takes is one glance at Bishop, blood seeping through his fingers as he tries to put pressure on his wound to stop any further protest.

Unwinding half the material, he tears it in two, handing me one half while tucking in the loose end.

Falling to Bishop’s side, I get a quick look at the cut before pressing hard with the fabric. It’s deep, slicing through muscle and almost a foot long. There’s a lot of blood so it’s hard to tell, but I don’t think anything under the muscle was pierced.

He groans as I roll him slightly onto his uninjured side to apply more pressure. Titus fights above us, killing anyone who gets close so I can focus on Bishop.

“You’re gonna be alright, brother—it’s barely a scratch.”

He rolls his eyes, his low chuckle barely more than a croak. “Hell of a scratch.”

His rough, strangled voice twists like a dagger in my back.

“She’s going to pay for this, Bish,” I promise. “She’s going to pay.”

My mind is a conflicted mess. It’s hard to keep the flame of hate burning when I’m this close to her. We are lined up in front of the omegas’ balcony after the coup de grâce and the injured alphas—including Bishop—were taken to medical.

Sinclair stands with the other omegas for the results of the games. Hands clasped in front of her, she keeps her chin highand steady, but there’s something I’m not used to seeing in her eyes as they ghost over Titus and me.

She’s scared.Scared of us.

As she should be.

I can’t look at her without seeing the big patch of sand painted red after medics took Bishop away. He was alive, but every second ticks by like a tightening noose without knowing if he’ll make it.

But at the same time as I want to punish her, I want to fuck her. I want to bury myself deep inside her until the image of her cunt taking my cock replaces images of blood-soaked sand. I want to leave bruises on her skin the way losing Bishop will leave bruises on my soul.

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