Page 61 of Redeeming His Omega Mate

“We can’t hold them off much longer!” Grayson shouted, his voice tight with exhaustion and fear. Not fear for himself but for the pack and what would be left of us by morning.

Another sharp cry rang through the battlefield as yet another one of our men fell. My wolf snarled, rage surging through me. We were losing.

Then, just when all hope seemed to slip away, I heard them.

A chorus of howls rose from behind us.

I turned sharply, my eyes widening at the sight of figures charging toward the fight.

Omegas.

They moved fast, some shifting mid-run, others gripping weapons, their faces set with fierce determination. They hit the rogues hard, tackling them to the ground and tearing into them with claws and fangs. What they lacked in skill, they made up for in speed, brute strength, and sheer ferocity.

Just like that, the battle had turned.

I saw an Omega shielding a wounded pack protector and another tearing out a rogue’s throat with ruthless precision.

Grayson stumbled up beside me, panting as he took it all in. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Neither had I.

But I welcomed it.

“Cover me,” I said, my eyes locking on the rogue leader. “I’m going for him.”

I surged forward to face their masked leader. He didn’t hesitate. In a flash, his body shifted—but only partially. Though his human form remained, his hands twisted and stretched into razor-sharp claws. I dodged his attack. But I was not fast enough. His claws connected with my shoulders, ripping through the clothing I had on.

I sucked in a sharp breath as the pain tore through me. He came at me again, relentlessly. I blocked his blows with my arms, bracing against the impact. When he swiped with his claws, I sidestepped, barely slipping out of reach. But not always. More than once, his claws found their mark, cutting into my flesh. Still, I held my ground. My plan was to wear him down and wait for the right moment to strike.

But he wasn’t slowing. Every move, every strike was filled with something more than just violence. He fought with aggression. Anger. Resentment. As if every blow carried the weight of something he had been holding on to for too long.

“You fight like a coward,” he snarled. “Just like your father.”

I stiffened. He knew my father? Did that have anything to do with why he was attacking the pack?

He wasted no time in coming at me again, but this time, I met his attack head-on. Our fists clashed with a brutal collision that sent a jolt of pain through my body. But I ignored it. I drove my knee into hisstomach, knocking the breath out of him. And as he lost his balance, I seized the opportunity to attack.

With a burst of strength, I drove my elbow into his face. He stumbled back, wiping his nose, and when he saw blood smeared across his fingers, something in him snapped. He launched at me again, fangs bared, ready to strike.

But I was faster. I caught his arm mid-swing and twisted hard. A sickening crack filled the air, and he dropped to his knees with a sharp cry.

“Who’s the coward now?” I leaned in to whisper in his ear before slamming my knee into his jaw. Blood sputtered from his mouth, staining my face as he collapsed to the ground, clutching his broken arm.

I braced myself for him to shift, to unleash his wolf and charge at me again. But he didn’t. Or maybe he couldn’t. Either way, he was down, and I intended to keep him that way.

Using a tactic my father had taught me, I wrapped my arm around his neck, applying just enough pressure to cut off his airflow. He struggled for a few seconds, his body twitching, but it didn’t take long before he went limp.

As soon as he was unconscious, I tore the mask from his face. I didn’t recognize him. His features were sharp and hardened, but it was the brutal scar running up the side of his face that caught my attention. It looked deep like it had been etched on his face for years.

The rest of the strike team, having taken down their opponents, moved in beside me.

The rogues, who had been fighting with fury, began to falter the moment they saw their leader on the ground. Panic flashed in their eyes as they stared at his unmoving form, and just as I expected, one by one, they started to retreat. The flank team managed to catch a few, but most of them scattered, slipping into the woods and disappearing into the night.

Silence slowly settled over the pack headquarters, save for the pained groans and ragged breathing of our wounded protectors.

I let out a sigh as I pressed a hand to my bleeding shoulders. The fight was over. For now.

Chapter 24

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