“You’re giving me … guns?”
I shrug. “Guns, knives. Hell, you can have a couple fucking swords if you want, though they’re not as practical as they might seem. They give you reach, but inside the house, they won’t be as useful in those tight quarters. I recommend some knives, maybe a couple guns, too. But I won’t stop you if you really want a sword.”
Her eyes sweep the shelves and wall displays. Though there are only three of us here–four if you count Olly, whodoesknow how to use everything in here in a pinch–we’ve got enough arms and armor for a whole fucking brigade. These are more for when we’re hunting runaway alphas, hunting more dangerous targets who need more …coaxingthan omegas to bring in.
Auryn reaches for a handgun mounted on the wall, eyeing me sideways as though she expects me to stop her. Instead, I help her get the gun down and start going over the safety brief.
Even though it’s been ages since I last had to give this brief–not since Olly first arrived here–the information is hard-wired in my brain. I could give a safety class on every single weapon in here in my sleep, and whoever listens is likely to end up with more expertise than some military veterans. I don’t leave anything out, don’t sugarcoat the dangers of the weapons, and I don’t stop until I’m sure my “student” fully understands every aspect of using them.
Our omega’s eyes widen as I drone on, but I can see the intelligence in them, can see her interest and determination. She fully intends to make Sneed pay, and she understands that knowing how to use the gun is Step One in achieving that goal.
When I’m certain that she’s retaining my information, I have her demonstrate on a target in the back of the room. Her hands tremble at first, but after firing off a few rounds–with a little redirection and stance adjustment from Diego and me–she seems more sure of herself. Her aim is better, and she actually seems to have calmed down from her earlier rage and panic.
“Okay,” I say as I step back, satisfied that she’s absorbed as much as possible for now. “Which one next?”
Her jaw gapes open. “You’re letting me have more than one?”
“Of course. I said ‘guns’ and ‘knives,’ plural. What did you think I meant?”
“Have you ever let an omega handle these before?” she asks.
Diego cracks a grin. “No,mi amor. You’re the exception. Most omegas don’t insist on barging into dangerous places to rescue their mates.”
“How can they not?” she asks.
The simple question catches me off guard. Omegas don’t do danger. They just … don’t. For her to not onlywantto risk her life to save Emmett but also to question the actions of every omega who has come before her, to question a basic fact about omega personalities … It’s unreal.
From the look on Diego’s face, he’s just as shocked as I am. We stare at each other for a moment before either of us can respond.
“You see,princesa, most omegas crave safety. They want to be loved and protected. I–I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Well, most omegas are dumb.” She picks up a serrated knife and holds it out to me. “Show me how to use this.”
It’s about as far from a question as you can get. She’s not asking; she’s demanding. “Well, first thing’s first: Aim the pointy end at the bad guy.” I reach over and take the handle from her fingers, careful not to slice my arm open in the process. “Unless, of course, you’re handing it to someone. In that case, handle first. Always.”
“Oh.”
Diego pats her head. “It’s okay, baby. You’ll learn.”
“Can you take over here, Diego? I want to check on Olly.”
“Sure, boss.”
“Auryn, pick a few more. We can outfit you with something to help you carry everything, but having options will be good for you. Diego knows as much as I do about the safety briefing on everything here, so he can teach you.”
She nods, but her eyes never leave Diego’s hands as she watches him demonstrate some of the grips and attacks with her chosen knife.
Confident that Auryn’s in good hands, I amble down the hall to Olly’s lab. He took fresh samples from Auryn a few minutes ago, and I’m curious if he’s found anything yet.
In another spectacular demonstration of how fucked up life is today, I discover Olly in as close to a rage as I’ve ever seen him.
He’s got papers strewn everywhere, broken slides lie on the floor, and he’s standing in the midst of it all, his chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths, his hand in his hair, gripping it tight.
“Whoa!” I say, holding up my hands in surrender as he wheels on me. “What the fuck happened here?”
“It’s right there, but it keepsdisappearing!”
I blink because I have no idea what he’s talking about. “What keeps disappearing?”
