Page 1 of The Omega Trials: Part Three

Chapter 1

Everything in My Power

Bishop

My chest fights to contain the vicious pounding of my heart.

They’re coming.

I can’t get enough air into my lungs, can’t make my legs move fast enough. Every muscle burns. But nothing’s as bad as the searing, gut-wrenching pain I feel through the bond from Sinclair.

I knew the moment Titus told her where they were going because her unease and fear shot through the bond. I gripped my chest, aching to be with her.

I could feel the moment they arrived at her grandma’s because that feeling became crippling, suffocating.

Whatever they arrived to broke Sinclair. I felt her shatter and could do nothing to catch her pieces.

Ecker and I both knew it was only a matter of time before the Echelon realized Sinclair wasn’t on the Estate, and her grandma’s is the first place they’d look. So we hotwired one of their town cars.

As we were leaving, we passed a group of soldiers gearing up. No doubt to come for our mate.

Certain they have trackers in their cars, we parked a mile away and haven’t stopped running since. Now, we tear up the apartment stairs, my body humming with electricity the closer I get to her.

We skid to a stop at what’s left of the apartment door. With tunnel vision, I run straight for Sinclair. I inhale my first full breath all morning the moment I crush her to me. Her scent settles some of the shaking in my chest, and I can’t get over how good it feels to have her in my arms, whole and—

I step back and cup her tear-streaked face in my hands, then run my palms down her arms and waist and hips, making sure that she is in fact whole.

At least on the outside.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” So focused on Sinclair, I don’t notice the other woman until Ecker’s exasperated statement.

Looking at the stranger is like jumping through a time machine and seeing Sinclair thirty years from now. The resemblance is so shocking, no introduction is needed.

Sinclair’s dead mother is standing in this apartment, very much alive.

Ecker holds up his hand and shakes his head “Uh-uh, one earth-shattering disaster at a time.” He looks down at Titus, who is clutching dish towels to Sinclair’s grandma’s abdomen, then at Sin herself. “She’s alive?”

“Barely,” Titus answers gruffly. “We need to get her to Doc.”

“We need to get her out of here,” Ecker says emphatically, nodding to our omega.

“Is the bungalow still a viable option?” I ask Titus.

“Should be. I checked on it a week before the Trials.” His heavy eyes go to Sinclair, and they hold a new weight I don’t recognize. “They’re coming, aren’t they?” he asks me, although his eyes stay on Sinclair.

I nod solemnly.

“Okay, go now,” he says with decisiveness.

I grab Sinclair’s hand, but when I pull her toward the door, she digs in her feet. “I can’t go. I can’t leave her.” Her voice is raw and desperate, splintering my heart just a little worse.

I don’t want to hurt her more, but I have to protect her. She must see the inevitability on my face because she begs, “Please don’t make me leave her.”

“I’ll take her.” We all turn toward Sinclair’s mother, who up to this point had been standing so much like a statue, I was beginning to think she might be one. “To this Doc, I’ll get her there—”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Sinclair snipes. I can tell how overwhelmed she is by her tone. “Why would we ever trust you?”

“She’s my mother.”

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