Page 115 of Run Little Omega

Magic cracklesat my fingertips as another wave of court alphas crashes against our position. The air tastes of frost and fury, my hair whipping around my face as I send a barrage of ice daggers toward an approaching Summer Court hunter. Behind me, I feel Cadeyrn's back pressed against mine, a solid anchor in the chaos.

"On your left," he warns, his voice tight with concentration.

I pivot without thinking, my body responding to his warning before my mind processes it. My hand shoots out, magic spiraling from my fingers to freeze the feet of an Autumn Court alpha trying to flank us. The bond between us pulses with information—danger, movement, threat—even as my heart remains walled against him.

"There are too many," I pant, sweat beading on my forehead despite the chill radiating from my skin. "We can't hold the Grove much longer."

Twenty, maybe thirty court alphas circle us, their coordinated movements suggesting an unprecedented alliance. I've never seen the courts work together like this. Their usual rivalries and power struggles seem forgotten in the face of what we represent—wild, uncontrollable magic that threatens their careful hierarchies.

Cadeyrn's shield expands to deflect a barrage of fiery projectiles from a Summer Court mage. "We don't need to hold it," he replies, his breathing remarkably steady. "We just need to survive until?—"

"Until the cavalry arrives?" The Hound materializes from the shadows between two ancient oaks, his mismatched eyes glinting in the crimson moonlight. Blood stains his leather armor, but his movements remain fluid, predatory. "Not exactly cavalry, but I found something that might help."

He gestures toward a tangle of roots at the base of the largest tree in the Sacred Grove. As I watch, the roots twist and separate, revealing a narrow passage into darkness.

"Underground tunnels," The Hound explains, ducking beneath a stray arrow. "The Old Ways connected all the sacred sites. The courts sealed them centuries ago, but the Wild Magic you two have been throwing around has weakened the barriers."

Cadeyrn and I exchange a glance over our shoulders. His ice-blue eyes are haunted by what he's learned about his own complicity, but there's determination there too. Whatever broken trust lies between us, our survival instincts align perfectly.

"Go," he tells me, magic brightening across his skin as he gathers power. "I'll hold them off."

"No." The word escapes before I can consider it. "We go together or not at all."

For a heartbeat, something flickers in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or a shadow of the connection we'd begun to forge before I learned the truth about the cullings. Then the moment passes, replaced by grim focus.

"Together, then. On my mark."

The Hound slips into the passage first, vanishing into shadow. I take a step back, feeling Cadeyrn move with me, our bodies still instinctively coordinated despite everything between us.

"Now!" Cadeyrn roars, and together we release a blast of pure Wild Magic.

Ice and silver light explode outward, momentarily blinding our pursuers. In that instant of confusion, we dive for the root passage, sliding into cool darkness as the entrance seals itself behind us.

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The tunnels wind beneath the forest floor, illuminated only by the soft blue glow emanating from our skin. Arcane patterns pulse across Cadeyrn's arms, matching the rhythm of my own—a visual reminder of our connection even as emotional distance yawns between us.

"You're bleeding," he says quietly, gesturing to my arm where an Autumn Court blade caught me during the fight.

I glance down at the shallow cut. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." His voice remains neutral, but I catch the undercurrent of concern. "Wild Magic is amplifying everything, including blood scent. They'll track you through these tunnels if we don't bind it."

I want to argue, but his reasoning is sound. With a curt nod, I extend my arm.

Cadeyrn tears a strip of fabric from his already-tattered shirt and gently wraps the wound. His fingers are cool against my skin, careful not to press too hard. The simple touch sends a confusing wave of sensation through my body—anger and betrayal warring with the persistent pull of our claiming bond.

"There," he says, securing the makeshift bandage. "That should help."

"Thank you," I reply stiffly, withdrawing my arm. "Where are we going, exactly?"

The Hound, who has been scouting ahead, returns to our small circle of light. "Deeper than the courts ever go. There's an old place of power beneath the forest—older than the seasonal divisions, older than the Hunt as you know it."

"A sanctuary?" I ask, hope flickering despite everything.

"Not exactly." The Hound's expression is unreadable. "More like a nexus. Wild Magic flows strong there. It might give you a chance to..." He hesitates.

"To what?" Cadeyrn prompts.

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