Page 44 of Beta Lies and Cursed Lives
“He’s not even showing yet.”
“We’re going to die…”
Fuck. The male Omega is pregnant. That means the suppressants didn’t work. How could that be?
Even being discreet in this venue is a risk, but I have to try. I have to touch Mira and Rai. It’s still easier for me to communicate in someone’s mind if I touch them.
I put my hands down on the bench between us so that my pinkies touch the outsides of both their thighs. Mira’s thoughts, which were mere whispers, are so much louder now. And although I don’t want to frighten her any more than she already is, it’s imperative that I tell her, and Rai, what I know about what’s happening below.
So that’s what I do.
Their reactions come in a rush of outrage and fear, but I latch onto one visual that invades my mind. A scene from the dream I’d had last night. Only...it wasn’t a dream.
Mira and Rai had really mated last night.
What I’d seen in my dreams must have been Rai’s thoughts broadcasting while they mated.
Jealousy and pure dread war inside me, dread winning out almost immediately.
If these GBE fuckers can find this pack, there’s no telling how long it will take to find others. To findus.
We should be rejoicing in the fact that we’re not alone, that there are more packs of Cursed out there, comrades. But instead…
There are some fleeting thoughts in the crowd that stand out among the rest, strong and undeterred, like they knew. They knew packs existed, fated matings, that the rebellion is a real thing and a war is coming.
I can’t tell whose thoughts are whose, but it is an overwhelming flood. There are hundreds of us here, all shackled by these explosive collars, all unable to do anything against these powerless Betas who have all the control.
People are angry. So very angry. And also helpless.
“These four,” Ivanov continues, his demeanor growing more boisterous, “dared to go against GBE law. Fornicating, all of them. Orgies,” he spits on the ground and mumbles something under his breath in Russian. “Omega whores—”
One of the Alphas roars and leaps to his feet to lunge at Ivanov, but before he reaches him, his collar turns red, and there is apop,loud and echoing off the walls. His head explodes in a mass of red. Pink, gray, and white chunks scatter and blood smears across the floor in their wake. The gore is splattered across all the soldiers, the remaining pack that kneels before us, and Ivanov himself, who, with a look of utter disgust, wipes the matter off his face with his fingers and flings it to the ground.
While the two Omegas gape in horror, the female trembling, the second Alpha growls. His body begins to grow larger, muscles bulging so much they tear his shirt. Just as his teeth begin to grow long inside his open mouth, the male Omega flings himself at the beastly Alpha and screams, “No!” just before both their collars turn red.
Pop.Rain of blood and flesh.
There is a sensation in my throat, some mix of a gag and a sob.
A biting pressure increases on my knee as Mira grips it tight, her nails digging in, blunted by my jeans and her gloves. The beast in my chest slithers and threatens to growl, every sense in my being driven to scoop her into my arms and run as far away from this place as possible.
Instead, I am paralyzed, looking at the blonde Omega female who has all but collapsed to the floor with grief. Her mind is...empty. She looks at the fallen bodies of her pack, a slight tremor in her folded form, but no thoughts form in her mind. She’s completely shut down.
Ivanov takes a step forward, brushing more splatter from his suit, then he turns his back to us and points to one of the soldiers lined up shoulder-to-shoulder. Then his arm sweeps to the Omega, and he says, his tone crisp and authoritative, “Ubrat.”
I don’t know what the command means, but the intent in his voice, in his mind, is...death.
I look at the soldier, the Cursed Alpha. His thoughts race, the words are Russian, but the panic is unmistakable. He does not want to follow this order. But like me, like all of us, he is powerless to defy without putting his life in danger, too.
The Betas know what they’re doing. They enslave us, put our lives in their hands, turn us against each other in every way possible. War isn’t the only battle we’re forced to wage.
The soldier takes a shaky step forward, his foreign thoughts become repetitive, and the only thing I can pick up is a name:Konstantin.It’s his. He’s telling himself something over and over again, psyching himself out by the energy of his words.
His steps are stiff as he leaves the lineup, circles the pile of bodies, stands before the Omega with his back to us. All my brain will process is how impossibly tall this Alpha is; he must be more than six and a half feet. The angle we’re sitting at, the Omega isn’t hidden by his towering frame. She moves for the first time in what feels like an eternity, tilting her pale, tear-stained face up at him, blue eyes wide, pleading. Not for her life. For death.
She longs to be with her pack, the ones she loves. Those who were taken from her.
The soldier, Konstantin, extends a shaking arm to her. His thought is so clear, so clean, and in English.
