Page 69 of Unhinged Omega

The stabby little fucker lifts his head blearily, blinking up at me like he's staring into the sun. "Holy fuck, youreye?—"

I snarl and fire a bullet into the dirt in front of him.

"It's where we are!" the alpha yells. "Nikolai took the tower. The… the control tower. You know, the one that looks like a UFO on a pillar, the?—"

"I know what a goddamn air traffic control tower is," I snap. "And what the fuck are you doing in my market?"

"Looking for dildos!" the beta blurts out.

I just stare at them.

For once, I'm at an absolute loss for words.

And for a moment, I'm tempted to finish them both off. They're Nikolai's goons. They don't deserve to lick the dirt off my boots.

But I've got what I need.

"Get the fuck out of my market," I snarl, sticking my gun back in its holster. "And tell your boss if I catch any more of his minions sniffing around here, I'll send them back to him in pieces."

They both scramble to their feet and take off without another damn word. I watch them go, my jaw clenched so tight it aches.

I can't believe that arrogant prick had the balls to let his lackeys come here. Hell, he may have even sent them.

Tomyturf.

After everything that's happened.

But then, Nikolai's never been one for subtlety.

Or respecting territory and boundaries.

I need to move. Need to get to that airport before Raven does something even more monumentally stupid than usual.

Which, knowing him, could be any minute now.

"Hold on, kid. I'm coming," I growl as I storm toward the hangar where I keep all my best shit.

Whether you like it or not.

Chapter

Seventeen

RAVEN

The wind whips through my hair as I gun the engine of my golden motorcycle, pushing it to its limits. I've been saving it for a special occasion, and riding in on a gleaming metal steed to slay the degenerate dragon who's captured my moonlight princess certainly qualifies as that.

It didn't take long to suss out Nikolai's current location. I have my little birdies keeping an eye on his general whereabouts at any given time—just to make sure I can steer clear of him—and the Alpha's Alpha is always a font of information on every seedy dealing going down in the Outer Reaches. But every minute she's in that brute's captivity is a minute too long.

The recommissioned airport looms ahead, a sprawling mess of concrete buildings and steel rising from the barren landscape like some post-apocalyptic fever dream. And in the distance, sticking out of the dirt like the world's tackiest dildo, is the air traffic control tower.

No doubt Nikolai has turned it into his base. It's wrapped in three hundred and sixty degrees of gaudy midcentury windows, just perfect for the not-so-discerning paranoiac without a lick of taste.

I bet he's still got that psychopathic butch alpha running the ground operation, too. Although, I suppose her one redeeming quality is loyalty. That's all Nikolai has ever cared about. Anyone sycophantic or delusional enough to endure his endless litmus tests to weed out any "traitors" in his midst—AKA anyone with the balls to question him—is the perfect minion.

Personally, I've always preferred to just pay people with good aim and more than two brain cells to rub together, considering the fact that loyalty canalwaysbe bought for the right price. But I suppose we all have our different leadership philosophies.

I've imagined this moment a thousand times over the years. Rehearsed what I'd say, how I'd stand, the perfect cutting remark to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he left me with. But now that it's here, all those carefully crafted scenarios crumble to dust.

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