“She’s in there…” An explosion to the south drowns out the next words. “…went after you.”
Cold sweeps down my spine. It wakes me the fuck up.
“She?”
“Esme,” he confirms. “She was seen at the front. Told some dipshit she was looking for Ryker. But she never went to him. She hasn’t been seen since. We switched her tracker on. Confirmed. She’s been taken onto the ship.”
Esme.On the goddamned ship.Not even a regular healer, which would be bad enough. Jenda may be gone, but I’m not naïve enough to think she was the only one behind their sick experiments.
They lost a lot today: personnel, a fuck ton of research and a VIP. The bastards are going to want to make someone pay.
My hand reaches for the dead alpha. It’s not fucking pleasant touching death in order to clone, but there’s not even cursory hesitation knowing I need to do this for her. “On it,” I say.
“Good luck,” Ethan replies.
That’s the last thing I hear because I rip the helmet off and take off at a full run toward the final, closing ramp. The change is already upon me. The dead alpha I just catalogued on the field is a better choice than the face I just used to kill Jenda.
The pain of transforming my face at an accelerated rate is even more excruciating than the last change. My body will shift slower. He had a lot more muscle bulk than even my current alpha form.
She’s on the ship.
On the FUCKING ship.
The pain of cloning a face is nothing. I’m stone-cold with purpose and I’m going to destroy anyone who gets in my way.
Chapter Twelve
Esme
Metallic restraint cuffs are fitted onto me with practiced efficiency. They bite into my wrists. Not enough to break skin, but enough to remind me that I’m a prisoner. The ship is huge and terrifying. I’m marched down corridors that are dimly lit and saturated with the reek of their alphas. The thrumming noise the ship makes as it readies for takeoff generates a deep, pervasive sense of stress.
I’m dumped in a small holding room with a dozen other prisoners. All are dynamics in thin shifts with dead eyes and the sickly aura of abuse. My mind is in overdrive, wanting to soothe their hurt. But I can’t give myself away. If they find out I’m more than a standard healer all of us are screwed.
I know what they’ll do.
How they would torment the other prisoners, make me heal them, and then torment them all over again… probably torment them in front of me. They do that with physical healers, but they do worse to those who can heal the mind and spirit. The body can take a lot more repetitive breaking than the mind can. As for the spirit, that is something you really don’t want to abuseon repeat. I prayed never to find myself a prisoner, but I got the training for the eventuality so I would be prepared.
I can’t willingly play a role in hurting these people more than they’ve already suffered; I just can’t.
Zeb was here. I can sense the remnants of his presence. But he’s gone now, and I want to curse my stupidity. I came to the ship for him. Chased after him like a reckless fool… like a bonded omega might.
But I’m not bonded, and he’s gone. Whatever his mission was, he either completed it or aborted.
He’s going to be furious when he learns I disobeyed him.
But not as furious as I am with myself. If only I had stayed doing my job in the medical section, helping the people we managed to save. And after that, I might have hoped to be reunited with him again. One more memory to store up before the separation, when the two of us would take some downtime before being allocated to someone else.
Tears trickle down my cheeks, but they fall silently and are mine alone. The other prisoners are passive, their ability to cry long since scoured away.
Zeb is on the ground.
And I’m on a ship bound imminently for space and an Uncorrupted base. He’s probably tearing up the place before they sedate him because losing an omega, even one bound to an alpha temporarily, destroys them every bit as potently as it destroys an omega to lose her alpha in the field.
Zeb
I hit the ramp just in time. The ship is already lifting off theground before the ramp is completely closed. I follow the line of soldiers as we double-time it into the belly of the spacecraft.
There’s an edge-of-chaos vibe. I’m pretty sure that’s down to me, and the chatter that breaks out among the soldiers confirms it.
