I leap up and through the doorway without thinking. Smoke chokes me, but the countertop is only a few steps away. A lump lies between me and the desk, the size and shape sickeningly familiar as I step over it.
“Rickon! Get out!” Callisto shouts behind me.
I grab the laptop and keys lying on the bench and spin around, but the lump heaves with a gasp. Bloody oath, she’s still alive. If I had to make a logical decision, I’d leave her to burn, but my body acts without thinking. I throw the laptop at Calli and drag on the woman’s feet, tugging her toward the doorway.
The car driver shouts furiously into his phone, and Zack babbles at Red, wiping blood from her hands with his shirt as Calli helps me pull my birth mother down the step. Tears stream down my face, but I don’t know who or what they’re for.
The moment the wounded woman hits the dirt, I release her and run to Red. She’s covered in blood. “Red, what happened?” I gasp, patting her body to search for the source of the bleed.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she tells me, snatching my hands. “It’s not my blood.”
I slide my hands up and down Red’s arms, gasping in her lovely, honeyed macadamia scent. Right now it carries a bitter edge after her ordeal, plus the pungent smoke thickening the air. The blood drenching her shirt might not be hers, but her cheek swells, and she holds herself stiffly. The way our bond flared with pain and fury a minute ago, I thought I was losing her.
“Red,” I gasp, choking on fear and smoke. “Omega—”
She has the audacity to fucking laugh before throwing her arms around my neck. “I’m truly okay, thanks to Fabby McStabulous. Your gift saved me, Rickon.”
“McStabulous?” I choke out a laugh as I stroke her scorched hair. She’s alive; that’s all that matters. “I fucking love you,” I declare.
Fire explodes through the building’s roof with a loud bang, spraying sparks in all directions. I twitch, instinctively shielding my omega.
“Zack, get them out of there!” Callisto shouts.
Zack, who hasn’t let go of Red even though she’s hugging me, rises and grabs me with one arm, towing me toward the car. As I glance back, Callisto hands the laptop to the driver and drags Clarissa away by the ankles. An afterimage burns in my eyes, of my glorious omega smiling from the doorway, half in and half out, dangling a gun in one hand. So fierce, and more powerful than any movie scene.
Red whimpers, and pain floods the bond.
“Ohm-ee-ga?” Zack growls out, freezing in place.
“I’m okay, I just have a bit of whiplash from the car,” she mutters, holding her neck.
“Hold her gently,” I tell Zack, pressuring his tight grip on her.
He stares down at Red, jaw tight, and his heartbeat pounds against my arm. The bond quakes under the strength of his wild emotions, pulsing with a different kind of whiplash.
I wheeze as I tuck my hand behind his head. “She’s okay, alpha. We’re all okay.”
When he nods and lets out a long sigh before loosening his grip on Red.
“Get her in the car,” I order as a burning ember floats overhead. A national park in early summer could go up like a tinderbox without warning.
I turn back to check on Calli and find him crouched over my birth mother. She shudders and gurgles with every breath as he presses his shirt to the bullet hole in her chest. Blood seeps through, spreading across her stained t-shirt. The tangle of sensations within me tightens into a hard lump in my belly, hatred and grief mingling together.
The woman’s eyes flit open, and recognition dawns in their green depths as she coughs.
I stare down at her. Her life’s marked by discontent and jealousy. This is what becomes of people who can’t be happy with what they have. If I’d joined her in complaining about everything I missed out on, or continually blamed my parents for ruining my life, I’d be just as pathetic.
Another thought follows behind the realization as my gaze fixes on Callisto. Maybe no one told Clarissa Jones she was amazing, or ruffled her hair when she passed a test, or kicked her bully’s ass. Maybe all it takes is one person to change the direction of a person’s life forever.
Callisto’s haunted gaze finds me, and I read his dilemma within.
He doesn’t want to save her life either, and he definitely doesn’t want to burden me with the choice. I rest my hand on his shoulder.
A trickle of blood spills from Clarissa’s lips as she opens her mouth. “Rick,” she murmurs.
My heart leaps in my chest, skidding against my ribs.
The woman who gave birth to me spasms, breath rattling through the foam in her throat, and then she goes limp, eyes staring vacantly past me.
