Page 44 of Knot Their Soldier: Part Three

What the fuck is this Prime Alpha doing?

My ears are ringing from the proximity to Viper's sniper rifle. He must have a good line of sight with his scope, because he's steadily popping round after round into the treeline.

It's doing nothing to dissuade the enemy. Their gunfire is relentless with no breaks, which makes retreat an almost impossible endeavor, especially with the Alpha soldiers not joining the fight.

Two young women, civilian volunteers based on their lack of situational awareness and casual clothing, try to dart between two tents, their hands clutched tightly together.

"Covering fire!" I shout, and my Pack answers with a wave of suppressive fire.

It's for naught. A spray of bullets hits them not two steps out from their hiding place, their hands still joined as they fall.

The quartermaster, returning fire from behind a stack of poorly arranged crates, is shot. He crumples onto the crate, still and lifeless.

Four more civilians die within our line of sight, and Halley makes a whining sound of distress.

I hit four headshots as silent retribution on my Omega's behalf.

The enemy advances, spilling from the treeline and, as always, there are hundreds of them. The encampment will be overrun soon, especially with the lack of resistance from Zero's soldiers.

The air is choking with the scents of fear, blood, fuel, and gunpowder.

It should steady me, because this is familiar ground. Chaos, screams, incoming fire, enemies advancing from the trees. This is where I belong, facing the fight head on with my rifle raised and my orders clear. This is what I was made for.

A Prime Alpha does not pull back because the odds turn ugly. He holds the line. I have spent my entire life training for battles exactly like this one, and Pack Scorch has never run from a fight. We fight until we can't fight anymore.

Then Halley’s dead body flashes through my mind.

My grip tightens around my rifle until my hands ache.

If we stay, one of them could fall.

Retreat is the safest option. The only option that will ensure our Pack is out of danger.

"Mount up," I give the order.

No one hesitates.

Viper pivots first, already moving to the passenger side, rifle still up as he backpedals. Blaze stays planted for half a second longer, putting two more shots into the closest targets, then he slings his rifle and dives into the back. Shade shifts out of his way before slamming the door shut.

I throw myself into the driver’s seat, breathing hard under the weight of adrenaline and guilt. Every part of my training rebels against this, and my Alpha snarls to turn around, plant my boots, and make the enemy pay for daring to come this close.

But I cannot risk my Pack.

Gunfire hammers against the truck, each impact ringing through the metal.

The engine roars to life under my hands, and I wrench the gearstick into first. My fingers reach for the handbrake, ready to drive us toward safety, because it's the only choice my Alpha can bear.

Then Halley’s hand covers mine.

She has crawled forward from the back, wedging herself between the seats with her hair falling loose around her face and her eyes fixed on mine.

"Wait," she calls over the gunfire. "We can’t retreat."

A snarl rips out of me, dragged up by trauma, terror, and the memory of her lifeless eyes staring up at me.

The nerve of her! She promised she wouldn't rush headfirst into danger, that she'd let me keep her safe, and the first chance she gets, she breaks it.

"The Pass, Knox," she says, louder now, her fingers tightening over mine. "We can’t let them have the Pass."