Page 4 of Unhinged Omega

At least I don't have to look at the toilet anymore.

I slump against the wall, sliding down until I'm sitting on the cold concrete floor. My stomach growls, reminding me that I justwasted what might have been my only meal for who knows how long. I'm certainly not going to eat off the floor.

But the satisfaction of seeing shock on an alpha's face is always worth it.

I close my eyes, not that it makes much difference in the pitch black of the cell. I'm used to the darkness. If there's one thing that makes me feel a twisted kinship with the monster who haunts my dreams, it's that. We're both creatures who came from the dark.

For a brief moment, I had a glimpse of the sun with Azarel. But deep down, I've always known I'd return to that darkness eventually.

And when I do, the monster will be waiting.

Chapter

Two

AZAREL

Istare out at the horizon, watching flames lick the sky where Reinmich's borders once stood proud and unassailable. The acerbic stench of smoke and death carries on the wind, a familiar perfume I've grown accustomed to over the years.

This is just the beginning.

The real war, the one that will reshape the very foundations of our world, has only just begun. My hands are stained with rivers of blood already, and there will be an ocean more before all is said and done.

I've killed more men today than I can count, their faces blurring together in a crimson haze. Some begged. Some fought. In the end, it made no difference. All were a necessary sacrifice.

There is blood in every birth.

I turn away from the smoldering ruins of the old world, my boots crunching on broken glass as I make my way toward the commandeered church that now serves as our makeshift headquarters. The golden serpent coiling around the sun above the massive wooden doors stares down in disapproval as I yank the doors open and reveal the soldiers scurrying about like ants within.

A house of worship turned into a den of war and politics. Far from the first sacrilege this place has seen, and I'm sure it won't be the last.

The soldiers inside the church all snap to rigid attention as soon as I cross the threshold. The sour stench of their fear rolls off them in waves.

Good. Fear keeps men in line. Keeps them from asking too many questions.

A young lieutenant approaches me with the nervous energy of prey that knows it's being stalked. "Lieutenant General," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "Mr. Maybrecht is waiting for you in his office, sir."

I whip off my blood-soaked gray cape and toss it into his arms.

"I—I'll have this cleaned right away," he stammers, but I don't miss the way he grimaces at the blood that comes off on his hand. Probably another nepotism hire who's yet to see the reality of battle.

“It’s just General."

He freezes and looks up at me, his eyes tracking warily over my face. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"General Hargrove is dead," I remind him. "As the highest ranking living member of the Reinmich Armed Forces, you will address me now as General Vesper."

He gulps audibly and salutes, leaving a dab of blood on his forehead where his hand touched. "Yes, sir. General."

I turn and continue down the long corridor, pausing in front of the massive door leading to the sanctuary that has been repurposed as our war room. My eyes catch my reflection in a nearby mirror, and for a moment, I study the man staring back at me.

Deep bronze skin marred by countless scars that tell the story of endless bloody battles. Black hair spilling over my broadshoulders that does nothing to soften the harsh planes of my face. Presentable, aside from the small splatter of blood I missed on the edge of my jaw. I wipe it off and rub it away between my fingers.

I may look different from the average Reinmichian soldier, but my mission here was never about blending in. It was infiltration. And yet, as I search the pale blue eyes staring back at me for any sign of the Surhiiran noble I once was, I find nothing.

Turning away, I rap the backs of my knuckles against the heavy oak door, the sound echoing in the cavernous hallway. A deep voice bellows from within. "Come in."

I push open the door, stepping into what was once a place of reverence and peace. Now it's a hive of activity. Maps and strategic plans cover every available surface, including the altar presently being used as a desk. The air is thick with tension and cigar smoke where incense once burned.

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