Page 43 of Generation Omega: Revealed

I force myself to steady my breathing and close my eyes, seeking to ground myself in my body. Again, I feel textures first and then loosen the tie still choking me. I remove it and toss it aside, unbuttoning the top button on my shirt. I didn’t think to change. I didn’t think of much at all.

I run my tongue over my lips, still tasting her exquisite omega fragrance. Finally, I sense the delicate connection between our hearts. It’s muffled now, both weaker and stronger. I’m not sure what that means—no, I do know what that means.

“She’s with her first alpha,” I blurt, wonder alive inside me, along with relief so overpowering I’m lightheaded.

She found him. She’s not alone. I don’t know whether they’re safe, but the thrumming of her heart tells me she’s not afraid. It’s not everything, but it’s a start. Many omegas never made it this far.

“That’s good,” Sage breathes, exhaling a tiny fraction of her stress. When her phone buzzes, she taps the speaker button. “What have you got, Dory?”

“You’re not going to like it,” he answers, his voice rough and amused at the same time, as it always is. The Texan could find humor at a massacre.

Sage glances at me, a warning that what follows will be grim. “Tell me.”

“Well, let me just do that. So, some serious shit went down off-site. We’ve got bodies on the ground, or therewerebodies on the ground before the BD cleanup crew arrived. No more bodies now, but dang, it was a beautiful bloodbath.”

“The omega?” Sage asks, while I grip the table in an abusive manner.

“BD is spreading the net wider and searching frantically, so our folks are clearly still on the run. BD followed their normal game plan—snatching the alpha and reeling in the omega—but something didn’t work out as planned. Our new alpha is racking up a nice, little body count. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“The alpha’s already killed?” I stammer, unable to process anything as my body clings to my awareness of the omega’s heartbeat, the proof that she still lives after whatever happened.

“Yup. I didn’t get a clear view of the scene or what exactly went down, but the number of bodies suggests that he might have had help and certainly isn’t squeamish about taking lives. No idea who he is, but are you ready for the super helpful part?”

“I don’t pay you by the hour, so yes,pleaseget to the helpful part.” Sage’s eyes are bright, as they often are when she interacts with Dory, one of the few people she trusts.

“There were no cameras in the alley and even the cameras around it magically went down during the event, but I did a little hunting and found a nice fella outside a Thai restaurant—and yes, I got food—who was filming a dance video when an SUV came barreling down the street, leapt onto the sidewalk, fleeing the scene like… I don’t know, maybe like he killed a dozen men.” Hetsks. “If you tell me I’m pretty, I’ll send you the video. If you can trace the license plate, we’ve got ourselves the identity of our mystery alpha or, at the very least, a clue.”

“Dorian Amarillo Hensley, you are the prettiest man ever.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad we agree about that. And just know, as part of my compensation package, I expectyouto perform the suggestive dance in this little video. I’ll let you wait until all the excitement settles down, but there is a debt to be paid.”

“Fabulous. Could you just send it now? Lives are on the line.”

“Will do, boss. I’ll be ready to roll when you give me the details. In the meantime, I’m planning to have a little fun with some BD operatives. They’re swarming like locusts right now, and Ihatelocusts.” He pauses. “Did you see the posts going up?”

“I’ve been buried in the footage from the venue.”

“Yourarmyis doing their part with sightings all over the damn place, so many they’ll be running down leads for years.” His voice actually becomes serious. “It’s going to work this time. I feel it.”

“Just stay safe, okay? Otherwise, I’m doing the dance on your grave and it will shock the shit out of your mother.”

His response is a full-throated laugh. “That woman would join in and, after you get a look at the video, you’ll understand what a spectacle that would be in my tiny town. Talk soon.”

He’s gone and Sage is busy pulling up the video and playing it on one of the monitors. My mouth falls open at the sight of the dance that involves a truly frenetic merging of ballet, tap dancing, Irish dancing, rhinestone-covered cowboy boots and more spandex than should be allowed by law, and what I believe to be called—though would never admit to knowing—twerking.

Sage laughs so hard she coughs. “Yeah, that would make a statement. It’s the Rhinestone Spandex Dance Challenge, and it’s all the rage.” Smugly, she mutters, “I could totally do that. I’ve already got the boots.”

We watch the video frame by frame, allowing Sage to pull the images of the black SUV, sharpen them with some technology I don’t understand, and then present the license. My hands don’t release the table as she begins to search for the owner of the vehicle.

Her fingers move more swiftly over the keys and her intensity increases.

“What?”

She ignores me and returns to the footage from the auditorium, moving away from the seated portion of the crowd to those standing on the sides.

Sage murmurs words that don’t make sense and then she sits back in her chair. “I didnotsee that coming.”

“Sage,” I warn, my patience fraying.

---