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“Della is a hysterical mess.” Well, Colt got that right. Her weak, flailing limbs fighting off Alphas twice her size without a single thought for her safety burned in his mind. A shameful, selfish part of him adored her possessive Omega instincts on full blast, but underneath that dwelled a dark sense of failure. Separated from his suffering Omega, he could do none of the things Alphas were meant to do: comfort, care, protect, defend. Desperate to claim her, to secure that final attachment, to have her for his own, he’d made a choice he might regret forever. If something did happen to her in the coming conflict, he’d never forgive himself.
Slowly, Cal situated himself, sitting upright with his back braced against the ancient water heater and his good arm cradling the bad. It wasn’t like he could go far. The cuff around his ankle linked to a thick chain, which had been welded to the water heater bolted to the concrete floor. With his working arm, he tugged at the attachment without daring to hope it would break. But all he accomplished was making a racket of the clanking, grinding links.
What. A. Fucking. Mess.
The bond clanged a bleak note in his chest, out of sync and miserable. When had things gone so wrong? Had the decision to return to Morris Hill been the final mistake? Or had the last week been one long exercise in poor judgment? Fighting Silas? Stealing Della? Claiming her? Not bringing Simon and Matteo along with him them? An endless supply of second-guessing and self-condemnation was all he had left to keep him company. Where had he gone wrong?
Eyes closed, he sensed Della on the other end, also swimming through misery, wading through darkness to find her way back to him. His tired thoughts strayed to better memories, recalling the sweetness of her scent and the way it concentrated in his favorite spot. Snuggled into the crook of her neck, rich with silken, unblemished skin, warm and fragrant beneath his lips, she’d shiver and sigh when he kissed and nibbled. He recalled the fierce set of her lips when she held that knife to his throat, battling not just with him but with herself and her body’s escalating awakening. Her Omega, just under the surface, fought to come out. So delicate but so strong. Beautiful and precious andhis.
*
Cal’s eyes shot open, senses on high alert and straining for any hint of what yanked him from sleep. His head throbbed; a tension headache so severe he swore his eyeballs were about to pop out of his head. Had he been asleep? When had he drifted off?
It was fully night now, and without a lamp, murky darkness enveloped him. Frantic, he tugged on the bond, seeking Della through the haze of pain and black night. She was there, and the bond hummed a slow, steady cadence, like the shushed beating of a heart. Peaceful. At rest. Cal breathed a small sigh of relief. Like him, she slept, and for now, she was safe. As safe as she could be, given the circumstances.
Reassured, he rubbed at his aching eyes as all the anxieties returned in full force. He’d done everything he could to warn the Morris Hill Pack. At least a few of them appeared to take his warning seriously. Hunter was cautious, not an idiot. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to fall for Silas’s bullshit. Whether or not they’d take the precautions Cal would if this were his Pack, he couldn’t predict.
A shudder racked his body at the thought of what might’ve happened had those rogue Alphas discovered him and Della during one of their trips out of the cave. They’d been close—far closer than he knew—and could’ve easily come upon them unawares. Cal had no doubt he’d fight tooth and fist to defend his Omega, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could best a whole group of Alphas. He could tally the mistakes he made, both obvious and less so, but he'd done one thing right. The Morris Hill Alpha would protect Della and the other Omegas better than he could’ve as a lone Alpha in the middle of nowhere. No matter what happened to him tonight or even in the morning, banished from the Pack or once again exiled, he hadn’t stranded his lovely mate alone in the wilderness.
A scratching sound tickled his eardrums. He held his breath and listened. A mouse or rat? No, much too loud of a noise for a rodent to make. A minute of silence passed, and he began to question his own perceptions. Was he hearing things now?
Boards creaked above his head, and he got his answer. Heavy footsteps, a single pair of boots, moved fast and with purpose. Alarm raced up his spine, but he held himself rigid, not wanting to risk any chain noise to disclose his presence. Something was happening, and he didn’t like it. More scuffling and then quiet again. The minutes stretched into tortuous lengths as he waited.
His next careful breath brought the answer: smoke. A thin, acrid trail slithered into his nose, and an ominous warning echoed through his mind.
“They can’t fight us if they’re fighting a fire. We’ll burn the whole fucking place down.”
Outside, the night waited in silent, bated breath. Nothing stirred, no shouts, no calls, no alarms. A string of curses rolled through his mind. Where the fuck were the Morris Hill Alphas? How had this wannabe arsonist snuck past them?
The footsteps clomped over the floor, more confident now, no doubt making his hasty escape. Omnipresent smoke contaminated Cal’s every breath, and a storm of undiluted fear rained down.
He was chained to the floor, and the building was on fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Della
The pounding started deep in her brain. It hammered through her unconscious, jerking her from a slumber born of utter exhaustion.
“Della! Get up!” She opened her eyes to discover Kess was the owner of the unfamiliar voice. To her right, Rue grasped Della’s arm, hoisting her upright. “You have to come now. We’re under attack.”
“Where’s Cal?” Fully awake, Della reached for her shoes, ramming her feet inside and following Kess’s confident strides toward the door. Passing her bookshelf, she swiped the knife Cal had sharpened for her and tucked it into a pocket. “Where did they take him?”
“The storeroom,” Kess said grimly as she swung open the door. “The women and children are in my cabin. We have to gonow.”
“What—” Della’s words turned to ash when she stepped into the terrifying night. Flames, originating in the center of the settlement, shot up, licking against the night sky like a hungry dragon’s tongue. Her hand flew to her mouth as the sickening smell of fire invaded her nose.
Oh god. No. Not again.
Her knees threatened to buckle as the muscle memory took over. Fire. You had to run from fire, but terror rooted her to the spot. Everything went in slow motion for a never-ending second as her brain pieced together what she was seeing, her thoughts a deranged cacophony of worry. The storeroom. Kess said Cal was in the storeroom, the cellar under the mess hall. The mess hall currently going up in flames. The bond flared up a sputtering, desperate warning, one livid with terror and agitation.
Kess roughly tugged her arm, imploring her with wide, white-ringed eyes. “We have to go!”
Della knew what she had to do. Adrenaline flooding her blood, Della shook off Kess’s grip and took off, heading straight for the fire.
“Della! No!” someone behind her screamed. She raced across the grass and gravel, moving as fast as she could while sticking to the shadows as her head swiveled to take in the scene.
On the far side of the mess hall, a heated battle waged between a tangled mess of hulking bodies. Illuminated by the firelight, smoke obscured her view, and Della couldn’t make out how many were Morris Hill Alphas and how many were the invaders, nor could she tell who, if anyone, was winning. Shouts and screams and the dull roar of fire polluted the peaceful night.
