Page 216 of Unhinged Omega

Now I want to tear apart anyone who might take her from me. Including the monster currently fucking her back in Geo's compound. Including this Azarel, whoever the hell he is.

A Surhiiran working as a Reinmichian soldier. Now that's a niche. Probably not someone I'd usually be inclined to fuck with, either, considering he's got ties to the two nations I like to keep a low profile with. And yet here I am, considering tracking the bastard down myself just to put a bullet in his skull before Raven can bring him back to Cosima.

What's happening to me?

The thought nags at the back of my mind, a splinter I can't quite reach, as I make my way through the ramshackle pop-up towns on the way to the seedier district where the Alpha's Alpha holds court. The sun beats down on my shoulders, aggravating the wounds in my back. I can feel fresh blood seeping through the makeshift bandages, but I push the pain aside. Pain is an old friend, after all. We understand each other.

The buildings here are little more than shells, their windows boarded up or broken, their walls covered in crude graffiti. But I know this world. I know the unspoken rules of the Outer Reaches. The more decrepit the exterior, the more likely there's something valuable hidden inside.

I'm so focused on my destination that I almost miss the warning signs. The sudden silence. The prickling at the back of my neck. The faint scuff of a boot on gravel.

Ambush.

I dive for cover behind a rusted-out vehicle just as the first shot rings out. The bullet pings off metal where my head had been a moment before.

"Fucking amateurs," I mutter, pulling the stolen rifle from my belt. I peek over the car's hood, counting targets. Five of them, spread out in a loose semicircle. Armed with a mix of shotguns and pistols. Not raiders—they're too well-equipped. Possibly Geo's men, sent to take a cheap shot while I’m alone and vulnerable. Or someone else who recognized me and knows there's a bounty on my head.

A few of them, actually.

I don't have time for this shit.

The first one makes a mistake, breaking cover too early. I squeeze the trigger, and he goes down with a hole between his eyes. The second one is a bit smarter, laying down covering fire as he moves to a better position. But he's still predictable. I wait for him to reload, then take him out with two shots to the chest.

The remaining three fan out, trying to flank me. On a good day, I could handle them without breaking a sweat. But my back screams in protest as I pivot to track the one circling to my left. My shot goes wide, clipping his shoulder instead of his heart.

Fuck.

A bullet grazes my arm, tearing through the sleeve of my coat. Blood wells immediately, hot and slick. I ignore it, focused on returning fire. The third attacker goes down with a bullet in his throat, gurgling as he clutches at the wound.

Two left. I reload quickly, fingers moving on autopilot. The sun in my eyes makes it hard to spot the fourth attacker until it's almost too late. I feel rather than see him, the slight shift in air pressure as he rushes me from behind.

I spin, the rifle coming up, but I'm too slow. Pain explodes in my side as his knife finds its mark, sliding between my ribs. It'snot deep—the angle was off—but it's enough to make my vision blur. I slam the butt of the rifle into his face, feeling his nose collapse under the impact. He staggers back, and I finish him with a shot to the chest.

One left. Where is he?

The answer comes in the form of a boot to my back, right where Geo's bullets had torn through muscle and bone. The pain is immediate and overwhelming, sending me to my knees. The rifle clatters to the ground beside me.

I try to reach for it, but a heavy foot pins my wrist to the dirt. I look up into the barrel of a shotgun, held by a grinning alpha with a scar running down one cheek.

"Nothing personal," he says, finger tightening on the trigger. "Just business."

I close my eyes. Not in fear, but in fury. To die like this, at the hands of some nameless mercenary, after everything I've survived... it's fucking insulting.

The shot rings out, deafening at this range. But the pain doesn't come.

I open my eyes to see the alpha standing there, a look of surprise frozen on his face. Then his eyes roll back, and he collapses forward, a neat hole drilled dead center through the back of his head.

I roll away from the corpse, scanning the area for this new threat. Friend or foe? The latter is about a thousand times more likely, in my experience.

A figure steps out from behind a collapsed wall, backlit by the sun. I can't make out the face, partially obscured beneath a bandana, just the silhouette—slim, graceful, with hair that catches the light like spun gold.

Raven.

"That's what, three times I've saved your ass now in the past forty-eight hours?" he calls out, voice carrying clearly across the distance between us. "Who's the princess now?"

The smug bastard twirls his pistol once before holstering it with flourish. He approaches slowly, boots kicking up dust with each deliberate step.

I struggle to my feet, refusing to let him see me on my knees. Blood seeps from the knife wound in my side, but I stand tall, shoulders back, chin up. Just like I taught him all those years ago.

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