The thought of her alone, unprotected, makes my alpha instincts roar. She's ours. Our omega. Our responsibility. Our everything.
Ridge slides his knife into its sheath with a soft click, his movements economical and precise. "We finish this. We go home. Simple as that."
His eyes meet mine over the fire, and for a moment, I see the same fury, the same desperation that burns in me. He just hides it better beneath layers of stoicism and command.
Before anyone can respond, a beta—one of our radiomen—stumbles into our campsite, face pale under a sheen of sweat. His eyes are wide with terror.
"Alpha Team X." He gasps, hands on his knees, struggling to breathe. "Emergency. Bus carrying soldiers under attack. Thirty miles east. The pr?—"
He tries to say something else, but a wheezing cough takes over.
Kylian is already grabbing his backpack, a predatory grin spreading across his face, the first genuine emotion I've seen from him in days. "Finally. Something to kill."
The bloodlust rolls off him in palpable, malevolent waves, a welcome distraction from the worry that's been eating at all of us.
Ridge stands, his expression unreadable beneath the moonlight. "Load up. We move in five."
His voice is calm, but I see the way his knuckles whiten as he grips his rifle.
I don't need to be told twice. Brylee's face flashes in my mind—her smile, her scent of vanilla and sugar mixed with something akin to cinnamon, the way she fits perfectly against all four of us, the small space she occupies in our hearts that somehow makes us whole.
We'll protect these soldiers.
Because no one should be separated from their pack.
Not like we were.
The Humvee rumblesdown the deserted highway, its engine a steady thrum beneath us.
Luka's fingers fly across his tablet, the screen casting an eerie blue glow on his face. "Two miles ahead. Thermal signatures show a vehicle pursuing a bus."
"Armed?" Ridge asks, scanning the horizon, his body coiled and ready.
"Jeep with two mounted machine guns," Luka confirms, his voice tight with concentration. "Bus is a reinforced model, but not armed, taking heavy fire. Multiple casualties probable."
I grip my rifle tighter, the metal cool against my gloved hands. "We finish this."
The thought of innocent soldiers being cut down like this makes my blood boil.
They're someone's mates.
Someone's brothers.
Someone's sons.
Kylian whoops with excitement from the back seat. "Let's hunt."
He's checking his ammo, his movements fluid and eager, eyebrows dancing.
For him, this is release.
For me, it's necessity.
As we crest a hill, the scene unfolds below like a nightmare. A military-green jeep swerves behind a battered bus, bullets sparking against its metal frame. The bus weaves erratically, trying to evade, but the jeep matches its every move, relentless as a predator.
"Luka, disable their vehicle," Ridge commands calmly. "Kylian, Colter—on me. We're going in hot."
The Humvee skids to a halt behind a ridge. Luka's fingers dance across his tablet, and suddenly the jeep sputters, the electronic board overloading and dying in a cough of black smoke that billows up the inside of the windshield and then flares out into the sky like dark feathers.
