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“I feel uneasy,” Caleb says as I help him into a chair. “We’ve got to get those poor omegas to a safe place.”
I don’t reply to him immediately. My gaze scans the tent, looking for a free medic who can help patch him up.
Every available doctor is busy tending to wounded soldiers, so I decide to take on the task myself. Grabbing a first-aid box, I start by cutting into the sleeve that covers his wounded arm.
“Do you know of a secure location where we can shift them?” I ask, starting to clean his injury. “I can transfer them there right away.”
“There’s one close to Maplewood.”
“Is it ready to use?”
A hiss escapes him as I dab his wound with antiseptic lotion. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he nods. “I’ll give you the location. We must—” Another gasp escapes him as I continue cleaning the injured arm.
“You’re lucky the bullet grazed you,” I say in a grim tone. “It hurts like hell to gouge one out of your flesh.”
“I know.” His lips turn white from pain.
“You’re exhausted,” I tell him as he sways on the chair. “You need to take a break.”
“I’m fine,” he grates through clenched teeth. By now, his sleeve and shirt are soaked with blood. More seeps out as I press a wad of clean gauze into the open wound.
“The media’s going to be swarming here soon,” he says in a low, halting tone. “We can’t let them know about those women and children. They’ll love the scoop and speculate what was done to them in captivity. They’d even want to interview them. While most folks would pity them, there’d be those who’d love to get their hands on them. I can’t let those poor innocent women go through all that shit again. They’ve suffered enough in the hands of the Black Widow.”
“The Burton Pack will help them too,” I promise him. “We’ll protect them and get them the help they need.”
He starts to stand up but sinks back into the chair.
“Caleb!” I shout, startled. “Sit down! I’m not fucking done with you yet!”
He looks like he’ll pass out any moment.
“Press onto this,” I say, slapping his good hand over the mound of gauze on his open wound. “I’ll be right back.”
Rummaging among the contents of the first-aid box, I find packets of glucose powder.
“What’re you doing?” Caleb asks as I open the cap of a water bottle.
“You need some glucose water for hydration.” Tearing open a packet, I pour the mix into the bottle and shake it vigorously. “Here, drink this.”
While he’s distracted, I quickly finish cleaning the wound and patch him up.
“You need a break too,” Caleb says after a while.
I nod and make myself a glucose solution too. We’ve been on active duty since early last evening. There’s still much to do here, so there’s no way I can allow myself to get exhausted. When things are in better control, I’ll grab a bite and some coffee, but for now, the sugary water will keep me energized.
A lull spreads over us as we both take a moment to relax. Injured men keep entering the tent, keeping the medics busy.
“I’m arranging for the site clearance in Maplewood,” Caleb says after a while. It’s only then I notice him typing furiously on his phone. “All the blood I lost earlier is starting to take a toll on me. So, I’m going to trust you with the task of transferring the omegas to the property.”
“No shit, big guy,” I say, smiling warmly.
“This is important, Seth,” he says, looking grim. “Take only those men whom you trust with your life. The omegas we found down there were obviously kidnapped and trafficked. There are fuckers living among us who’d do anything to get their hands on them. They’ll see them as nothing but bags of cash.”
Disgust rises within me. How can one human being treat another so cruelly?
Nature made omegas physically weaker but also blessed them with enhanced sexual appetite and fertility. They’re born to be beautiful and alluring. Every pack seeks them as mates desperately because the children they bear will also be born as alphas and omegas.
Omegas are rare among us. They’re meant to be cherished and protected, not abused and used for the entertainment of sick alphas.
