'How is this possible?'
‘What in the rut is she doing in a combat hot zone?’
The enemy is coming at us fast now, confident that they can overwhelm us with their numbers. I have to focus or I’ll take too many hits to heal, but I can’t stop looking at her between rounds of suppressing fire.
She’s still standing there out in the open, defiant and strange and so rutting beautiful.
A bullet slams into the wall behind her, and the world slows.
It’s then that I finally notice that something is wrong.
The surrounding soldiers who were protecting her are retreating, but she’s not following them.
There’s a wide, unnatural grin on her face.
And her eyes… her pretty purple eyes are almost entirely black.
I know that look.
It’s been years since I learned how to avoid succumbing to the pull of my Command, but I remember the feeling of reckless superiority that thrummed through my veins.
She’s used it.
Omega Command.
And now she’s under its influence.
Oh, Princess. What have you gotten yourself into?
The bond tugs. It’s thin, frayed, but alive.
I don’t think. I run. Out of cover, and across the open town square.
Every rule, every protocol, every carefully laid plan evaporates.
I don’t care. I have to get to her.
My Omeganeedsme.
I’m halfway to her when it happens.
One of the bullets meant for me splits the air between us.
Thwack.
Halley whimpers.
It’s a broken, breathless sound that guts me faster than any knife ever could.
She stumbles.
Her leg jerks as a splash of red blooms across her trousers. She drops to one knee, face going pale, breath catching in her throat. The grin slips.
No.
I roar her name and push myself faster than I’ve ever moved.
The enemy knows a weak target when they see one, and they’ll be lining her up to finish the job. Crosshairs trained on her skull.
