Page 64
Silas’s Command cracks through the air like thunder. Heavy. Cruel. A probable death sentence.
Vaelenor stands. The terror on his face scares me more than Silas’s Command. He lurches forward, making a beeline for Silas. He moves so fast that his chair twists, shoots across the floor, and right into his path. Gaze narrowed dangerously on Silas, Vae doesn’t notice the piece of furniture until he’s practically on top of it.
Without breaking stride, he reaches to the side, lifts the chair, and, completely unconcerned about anything but getting it out of his way, launches it across the room.
It soars through the air before crashing into the opposite wall with so much force that the antique oak splinters into pieces and falls, clattering to the floor.
It all happens in less than six seconds. I know, because that’s the average amount of time it takes for an Alpha Command to fully reach the part of an Omega’s brain that controls Designation biology and registers Commands.
Six seconds, but only a millisecond for my body to register the words and lock up in horror.
The Command plows into me, wrapping around my bones and slithering between my ribs, prepared to force into my soul and steal the answer for itself.
It burns like acid through my veins, ready to flay me open from the inside. Spill my blood as well as my secrets.
The words of the Command echo through my skull. A death knell I can’t escape.
“Tell the truth. What are you?”
Tell the truth. What are you?
Tell the truth.
Tell the truth.
What are you?
What are you?
What?
What?
I SCREAM.
My vision turns black. My nerve endings explode in agony—my back arches, body jerking and spasming uncontrollably. My lungs tighten, and my mouth fills with blood. I can’t swallow. I can’t make my body do anything I tell it.
My mouth falls open as blood rushes up my throat, filling my mouth and splattering onto the floor.
My body gives out, slumping bonelessly. I land on my side and my fingers spasm, reaching and searching but finding only air where my friend’s hand should be.
She’s gone. I’m alone.
I stop fighting, no longer in control of my own body. My hands curl into fists, clenching so tight I can feel the bones grinding and joints popping.
Someone screams. Me? Branwen? Both of us? There are barked orders, shouts for a doctor, but underneath, a high-pitched ringing that grows and grows until it’s all I can hear.
I’ll hear it forever, because there is no way to stop this Command. There is no answer to offer as a sacrifice in trade for my life. It rips my free will away, and replaces it with pain.
The pain washes over me until it becomes all I know—my whole world. I can’t see, can’t hear, can’t speak. Perhaps I’ve died, and this is all that remains.
Me and the Void and agony that will never end.
My Omega whines, and the Command tightens in response, choking off the sound and demanding an answer.
What are you?
What are you?
