“I do, but I’ll be fine.” Not to mention, that’s dangerous as hell, and could be a big enough distraction that it puts Olive directly in harm's way. I don’t want to risk any of them by doing that.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.” I rub the center of my chest, my hand moving from bite to bite as the pit in my stomach grows. “I love you. All of you.”
“Rune? Rune, do not hang up on me. I swear to god, if you?—”
I hang up and toss my phone on the passenger seat, ignoring the way it starts lighting up like fireworks on the fourth of July. They aren’t going to listen to me when I tell them not to follow, I know they’re going to show up wherever I’m going, anyway, and there’s not one goddamn thing I can do to stop them.
I’ll leave my phone on so they can track my location, but that’s it. Arguing is pointless, and so is trying to convince them nothing is wrong with our girl.
I just need to get to her before it’s too late.
I’m already horrible with words, explaining how I failed our omega,again, and in turn, hurt the four of them, is something I will struggle with in the moment, and for the rest of my life.
I should have litthis fucking warehouse on fire.
The thought echoes through my mind about an hour and a half later as I pull up to the last place I expected to revisit, killing the headlights and slowly rolling down the service drive as I scan the fenced-in lots.
Whether it’s being scent matches, or the fact that we’ve mated in general, the intuition that comes with a bond bite is very intense and extremely accurate.
I didn’t expect to end up here, though, and considering the memories associated with this place aren’t ones anyone would want to relive, I doubt Olive is here for nostalgia.
And that means people are going to die tonight.
I park Dimitri’s truck behind the same section of fence I used before, the one covered by overgrown and unkempt hedges. All three dogs come to attention as soon as I get out and quietly close the door before lowering the tailgate for them.
Pointing to the same vantage points they had when we rescued Olive and Nikolai, I give the pups their orders, telling them to wait for their commands before they do anything. Which is going to be tricky because I can see that they’ve already picked up our girl’s scent. Just like me.
My omega’s scent is strong, even this far from the building, and I’m going to pray it’s because she’s afraid and nothing more. If it means she’s bleeding, if it means someone is in that fucking warehouse hurting her, whoever it is will be begging me to kill them before the night is through.
I walk over to the passenger’s side window, toss my wallet and keys on the seat with my phone then pull my hoodie up over my head and use it to cover those things. Only to immediately scowl when I realize I didn’t grab one fucking weapon when I left the apartment.
Do I need them? Not really. My hands work just fine and my dogs are more lethal than most semi-automatics, but it would have been nice to be armed since I’m going in without any backup.
Then Ithankfullyremember whose truck I drove, and the level of paranoia that runs through my pack.
After the shoot out at Knotted Obsessions, Olive used her mobile armory to restock Dimitri’s truck then load up Leon’s Taurus. She also hid things all over the barn and apartment, going so far as to duct tape grenades underneath the picnic table. Our omega is either planning for another world war, an alien invasion or the zombie apocalypse, and we’ve been trying like hell to keep her from laying industrial fences with barbed wire all around the property.
If I hadn’t followed her to the gun range, or seen her practicing her self-defense training while she was at the shelter, I’d wonder who the hell my scent match was and what happened to the sweet little omega who mended my wound after I nearly cut my thumb off.
Reaching over the side of the bed, I grab the lid of the toolbox and rip it open, ignoring the fact that the key is in the front seat before I raid Dimitri’s stash.
I stuff a hunting knife in each boot then go for a double shoulder holster, tucking a SIG in each side before I use the back to sheath a machete. The beretta goes in the front of my jeans next to the Bowie knife while two glocks sit in the top of the back, held tightly against me with my leather belt. I stick a few extra clips in my pockets then grab the heavy chain with what looks like a scythe at the end, draping it around my neck in case it might come in handy.
Once I’m armed to the teeth, I break a few branches off of a nearby tree and use them to cover the truck, double check my dogs and their positions, then head toward the same loading bay door I used last time.
Right as all five of them start to open.
I run toward the closest one as two men dressed in tactical gear secure the door, pulling out the beretta and attaching the silencer while I quietly eat up the distance between us.
Both men drop to the ground, bullets between their eyes before they even saw me coming, and within a matter of minutes, I’ve taken out eleven bastards who must be from the same larger faction the other groups belonged to. I head inside through the same entrance, glancing around each corner, checking behind each stack of rotting pallets and rusted barrels. Sticking to the shadows, I move around what is clearly an established perimeter, walking just beyond the light as I usethe dog whistle around my neck to signal my hellhounds to cautiously come inside.
Talk about deja vu.
This is almost step for step the exact same as the last time I was here.
At least, that’s how it feels until I finally reach the focal point of the layout and see motherfucking Hayk wind up and punch my girl in the temple.
