"Three o'clock!" Luka calls out, and we all swivel our eyes to see a hole in the side of a hill—a disguised door now pitted with holes, swinging open like this is the fucking Shire.
Only, cute little hobbits don't come pouring out. Alphas do.
Massive, brawny, terrifying alphas.
"What the hell?" Kylian voices the question that flits through all our minds.
Wild cackles contrast the midmorning sun as gargantuan male alphas stumble out of the darkness and into the open air. Some are clothed, but nearly half are nude and carrying makeshift weapons like broken table legs or standing lampposts. Somecarry guns I recognize as ours, sending a pang through me for our fallen.
"Omega!"
They don't say it victoriously but greedily, hungrily.
They say it like alphas who are on the hunt, predators seeking prey.
Goose bumps rise on my arms, and ice-cold dread traces up my spine. Despite the heat of the muggy morning, I'm suddenly shivering in my bodysuit because some very deep-seated part of me realizes that if those men get to me, there will be no escape.
It won't be like my kidnappings.
Wit won't matter.
Cleverness won't suffice.
These alphas move with hunched shoulders and lion-like grace. But there's something about their snarls that's lost a sense of humanity. They aren't even thrilled by violence the way Kylian is.
Theyareviolence.
The leader of Alpha Team X stops running instantly, dropping to a knee and siting his weapon on the alphas emerging from that hill.
"Stop or I'll shoot!" Ridge warns.
They don't stop.
They speed up.
Without hesitation, Ridge shoots the alpha closest to us. The shot rings true and blasts the man in the chest just above his heart. But he jerks once and still keeps moving as if he's incapable of feeling pain.
"Omega!" the alpha grunts.
Around him, the others jerk their heads toward us.
Though they're probably realizing Ridge is the one who shot them, I can't help the prickling feeling at the back of my neck that says they're looking at me. Paranoia whispers that theyknow.
Have my scent suppressants failed?
My head starts to slosh with worries as they turn and charge in our direction.
"Get her out," Ridge orders Colter as Kylian lets his rifle dangle and pulls out a handgun instead.
I book it for the tree line so that Colter doesn't end up throwing me over his shoulder like the glimmer in his eye hints he'd like to do.
"What are you doing?" Luka hisses at him through our comms.
"These shoot slower. Gives them a chance to shoot back. That's more exciting," Kylian replies before letting out a “whoop” and blasting one of the alphas rushing toward us.
I whip my head toward Kylian's victim quickly enough to see blood bloom on the man's chest. But the alpha doesn't stumble. Doesn't stop.
He doesn't act like he's been shot at all.
