Page 137 of Unhinged Omega

Then again, he's always been a freak, so maybe not.

I climb back into the SUV, a grim smile tugging at my lips. Finally, a solid lead. If that's the direction they're headed, they must be going toward the black market. Makes sense. It's all that remains of civilization for miles.

She may be resourceful, but she's still on foot in hostile territory. All territory out here is hostile toward omegas, really. Her best chance of survival is blending in somewhere more densely packed.

I just hope I find them before someone else does.

Or before that mutated alpha gets hungry.

Chapter

Thirty-Five

COSIMA

My feet are freaking killing me.

Each step sends jolts of pain shooting up my legs, but I grit my teeth and keep walking. The Knight's heavy footsteps behind me are steady and unwavering despite his injuries. I try not to limp, but after hours of trudging through the wasteland in stolen boots that don't quite fit, my body betrays me.

A particularly sharp rock makes me stumble, but massive hands scoop me up before I hit the ground. I tense instinctively as the Knight's metal claws prick my skin through the raider clothes, but his grip is surprisingly gentle. He cradles me against his broad chest like I'm made of glass.

And I might as well be compared to him.

"Fine," I mumble, letting myself relax against his scarred chest. His warmth is already seeping into my aching muscles. "But only because my feet hurt."

He rumbles in response, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my bones. The rhythmic sway of his stride is almost hypnotic, and I find myself drifting, feeling oddly safe in the arms of my former nightmare.

When the first signs of civilization appear on the horizon—scattered lights amidst ruins and the distant hum of generators—I tap his chest. "Put me down. We're getting close."

He sets me on my feet with surprising care. A rusted metal hatch juts up from the scorched earth ahead. The entrance to what must be the black market's underground network of tunnels. Even from here, I catch glimpses of light seeping through the cracks.

I approach the hatch cautiously, my eyes scanning for any signs of guards or security measures. The metal is corroded and weather-beaten, covered in a fine layer of rust-colored dust that seems to coat everything in the Outer Reaches.

Gritting my teeth, I wrap my fingers around the edge of the hatch and pull. The metal is rough against my palms, flakes of rust coming away like dead skin. I strain, muscles trembling with the effort, but the damn thing won't budge.

"Shit," I mutter, wiping my hands on my stolen pants. I glance at the Knight, who's hanging back in the shadows of a burned-out building. "I don't suppose you could?—"

Before I can finish the thought, he's already moving. His massive frame emerges into the sunlight, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. The way the light catches on his scars, on the metal grafted to his flesh... he looks like something out of an old world myth. A fallen god of war and violence.

He reaches past me, metal claws gleaming as they dig into the edge of the hatch. With one fluid motion, he lifts the heavy metal door as if it weighs nothing at all. The hinges screech in protest, the sound echoing across the wasteland.

I find myself staring up at him, transfixed. The sun blazes behind him, transforming his white hair into a silver halo and casting his scarred face in dramatic shadow. Those haunting blue eyes lock onto mine, glowing with an intensity that makes my heart skip.

For a split second, I see him as he might have been before they turned him into this. Before the scars, before the metal, before the pain. Just a man, looking down at me with something that feels dangerously close to devotion.

Then he growls—a low, warning sound that vibrates through my chest—and the moment shatters.

Right.

Don't look at him.

We're not here to stare at each other like lovesick kids, anyway. However long I've been dreaming about him.

"Thank you," I say softly, ducking under his arm to peer into the darkness below. The tunnel stretches deep underground, lit sporadically by flickering electric lights. The air wafting up smells like sweat and motor oil.

Gross.

That shitty alpha must be from here. Lux? Lax? I've already forgotten, and I don't care. Kind of hope she's in pieces right now with the rest of those assholes.

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