Page 55 of Broken Omega

“There’s actually a fire,” River says, getting up and pointing out of the window.

The siren lights show a badly burned set of entrance doors up ahead.

A couple of reds are carting a hose back to their truck, and a couple more are loading body bags into the back of theirs.

“I guess we’re late to the party,” Donnie says, before he jumps out.

I glance back at River. “Get into the driver’s seat and don’t move.”

I pass him the keys, and he climbs into the passenger seat, moving over once I get out.

Closing the door, I don’t let myself look back.

Donnie’s already rushing toward the middle of the chaos. I speed up to join him.

“What are we looking at?” Donnie asks.

The red EMTs gesture to the body bags on the ground.

“No survivors out of the gun shot wounds and compound fractures. A couple people died from smoke inhalation, too.”

“Damn,” Donnie says. “What the hell happened here?”

No survivors. Should have guessed as much when we saw those body bags. If anyone was still alive, they would have been treated first.

“Who the fuck knows?” the female red EMT tells us before she closes the door. “I’ll tell you one thing. It looked like an execution.”

Donnie’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“The gun-shot wounds were efficient, and the beatings were brutal. The fire was started intentionally, with those people locked in the entrance hall with no escape route.” She shakes her head. “Whoever the hell did this, I hope the cops nail him to the wall.”

She walks away.

An uneasy feeling comes over me as I look around.

There are security guards outside an entrance on the side of the building, but I can’t see an administrator. They’re usually female, to make the Omegas feel more comfortable.

I keep looking, and I see a blonde head of hair next to another of the men dressed in black, through an open gate to a back yard area.

“I’ll be right back. Check if the reds need help,” I tell Donnie.

He blinks at me. “Uh …”

I leave before he can ask what I’m doing. I’m not sure I’d have an answer.

A guard stops me at the entrance to the garden area, where the blonde seems to be sitting on a bench with another guard.

“Can I help you?” the guy in front of me asks.

I look him over. “No, but I think she can.”

He frowns at me. “No unauthorized personnel are—”

“He’s a paramedic, Lenny. Let him pass,” one of the guards on the stairs calls out.

“Right. Sorry,” Lenny mutters, standing down.

I move past him, and I don’t even need to take in a breath to know who and what the blonde woman is. She’s stunningly attractive, showing off a tall, slender body in a plain but clearly expensive long, black dress, and a single, unobscured glance is like taking a shot through the heart.

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