His hand comes up, settling on the back of my neck, making goosebumps spring.
What are they doing here?
I’ve met their mate, Doctor Lillian Brach, many times. She takes care of the omegas passing through the programs seriously, especially those with unusual capabilities. My healer mix brought me to her attention. She has a way about her thatputs you at ease, making conversations feel more like a chat between friends than a research session. Lilly is one special omega and surprisingly grounded for a woman born into the ruling elite. Her continued influence in the viral program after she revealed as an omega gave me hope that we could have a voice. Maybe a role in society beyond our use in the war, or as a mate to an alpha.
It’s fair to say I know her. Think of her as a friend. That it doesn’t even feel presumptuous to claim that relationship says something on its own. Over the years, I’ve picked up snippets about her and, more recently, her men. Enough to know that Ethan Black and Ryker Sherwin are not the sort of men deployed for ordinary operations. Well, not Ethan Black, for sure. I distinctly remember Lilly mentioning he had retired from field work three months ago when we last met. She’d been thrilled about it.
Their presence, both of them, means something far more serious is unfolding than the mission briefing suggested.
Zeb isn’t surprised to see them. Maybe he doesn’t know who they are?
Only the introductions have come to an end. Both men are looking at Zeb, and when I check, he’s staring right back at them. The look passing between them is a conversation in itself.
A prickling of unease grips me as I consider how I was a last-minute inclusion in this mission.I’m not supposed to be here.Something happened with the allocated healer, and I was slotted in at the eleventh hour, in what should have been downtime.
Zeb jerks his head to the side in that unmistakablewe need to talkmotion.
Ethan’s gaze sharpens.
Ryker quirks a brow.
Well, damn. What does this mean?
Zeb
I motion Ethan to one side. Ryker’s a nosy bastard, so of course he follows. I glance between them.
“Something is up,” Ethan says slowly, his brows pulling together in a scowl that says he doesn’t want anything to be up, and if it is, he’s going to fuck me up for dragging it to his door.
“Don’t give me that fucking look,” I mutter.
His brows lift a touch.
“You were projecting death and mayhem,” Ryker offers him, helpfully. He has a soft, even tone that’s at odds with most of the bullshit that comes out of his mouth. He turns back to me. “’Sup, Zeb?”
“I’ve got a problem with the healer” —They both throw a speculative look over my shoulder— “Don’t fucking look!” I hiss. “What are you, rookies?”
Ethan looks like he’s swallowed a rock. Ryker smirks like being called a rookie makes him proud.
“She’s onto me.”
“What do you mean ‘onto you’?” Ethan grits out. “If you’ve fucked up, I’ll fu?—”
I hold up a hand. He shuts up.
“She’s not the healer I was supposed to get.” I blow out a breath. “The healer I should have gotten was exchanged at the last minute. And, well, my recruiter didn’t pick a straight healer replacement.”
“What the fuck is she, then?” Ethan demands his scowl deepening.
“Spiritual and mind, mostly.” I grimace. “A small percentage of physical healing. The combo is particularly useful in these sorts of operations.”
“Why didn’t you ask for someone else?!” Ethan growls. “What are you, a rookie?”
Ryker snickers. Ethan thumps his shoulder.
“I didn’t get an option,” I say, glaring right back. “The recruiter was an asshole on a power trip. We didn’t get into her details before he demanded to know if I could ‘handle an omega.’” I adjust my collar. “I might’ve smacked his head into the desk.”
“Nice work,” Ryker says, smirking, and clapping me on the arm. “I’ve wanted to thump a recruiter a time or two myself. Good job they’ve never left me alone near one when I’m in possession of a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, I’d?—”
