Page 43 of Unhinged Omega

Thane and Valek exchange a look that speaks volumes. I've seen that look before. Usually right before someone tries to put a bullet in me.

"We're spec-ops, not fucking gutter mercs for hire," Thane says, disgust dripping from every word. "And even if we were, I highly doubt you have more funds than Surhiira."

"There are some things in this world money can't buy," I reason. "Good intel is one of them, and in a war, which you happen to have started, information is king."

I let my gaze drift over them, taking in the subtle changes since our last encounter. They look... softer somehow. Not weaker, not by any stretch of the definition. Just a little bit less like the hardened killers I remember and more like men who've finally found something worth living for.

Normally, I'd find it revolting, but having recently come upon a bit of existential purpose myself, it's kind of sweet. But it also gives me an angle to exploit. Something tells me they haven't changed quite enough to let me walk out of here alive without giving them a damn good reason.

"Considering the fact that the five of you have gone into a cozy retirement with your little lady," I continue, watching their reactions carefully, "I'm sure you could benefit from the services of a filthy 'gutter merc' yourselves."

For a moment, I think I've got them. Thane and Valek look at each other thoughtfully, and I allow myself a flicker of hope.

Then they burst out laughing.

Dicks.

Since when dotheyget along?

"We have the entire Surhiiran army at our disposal," Thane says between chuckles, "and half of what's left of Reinmich's. What couldyoupossibly have to offer us?"

The dismissal in his tone ignites something in me. A spark of anger, of wounded pride. Before I can think better of it, my hand is moving.

In less than the blink of an eye, I draw my gun. The familiar weight settles in my palm as I take aim. Time seems to slow as I squeeze the trigger.

The shot rings out, followed by the sound of shattering glass and the dull thud of a bullet embedding itself in wood.

When the echoes fade, I'm already holstering my pistol with a practiced twirl before either of them has the time to react. By the time Thane and Valek have both drawn their guns, so has Geo.

Two of them, one aimed at each alpha.

He always had style when it counted.

"Relax," Geo snarls through his teeth, his voice dropping into the low, gravely tone of his alpha bark. "If he wanted you dead, you would be."

I look over at him, unable to hide my shock that he actually drew on the fucking Ghosts. And here I thought he'd step aside while they dragged my bleeding corpse around to the dumpster out back.

His bark isn't enough to bring these hardened soldiers to their knees, but it sends a message. And makes me shiver in spite of myself.

Now isnotthe fucking time, and my hobby of teasing him aside, I don't exactly relish Geo's bark having that affect on me—even after years of training to render me immune—but it is what it is. There was a time when I couldn't even be in the same room with another alpha without being at risk of a bark leaving me powerless to respond to any command they happened to give.

Now, it's more of a nuisance. A little itch in the back of my brain I can choose to ignore until it's convenient to scratch.

Except when it comes toonealpha, but I've spent the last five years avoiding him. I've become something of an expert at it.

And if we ever do cross paths again, well… he may have taught me everything I know, but I'm still a quicker draw than him.

Thane grabs at his shoulder with a snarl, ripping away the fabric where his epaulette used to be.

But he isn't even grazed.

Across the room, a glass lies in pieces on a nearby table. And there, on the far wall, my bullet sits dead center in the bullseye of a battered dartboard.

I allow myself a moment to savor the looks of shock on their faces before speaking. "You boys are good," I say, unable to keep the sneer from my voice, "but you're military dogs. You work in a unit. It takes a rat to thrive solo in a gutter like the Outer Reaches."

Geo looks like he's about to be sick, even if he hasn't lowered his guns, but I press on. This might be my only chance. And it's both our necks on the line now.

"You may have New Reinmich, and eventually, you may even be able to take the rest ofoldReinmich," I continue, weighing each word carefully. "But the Outer Reaches are full of a hundred warring factions, each of which is going to make that task exceedingly difficult. And Surhiira can't just put up swanky outposts and hope for the best. Not without help. Not without people on the inside. Or outside, as it were."

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