Chapter 18
At exactly one hundred and twenty seconds, Fenrir hit the yellow button.
For a split second, nothing happened, but then there was a crackle and a zap, and he looked up in time to see a surge fire from a hidden blaster embedded in a nearby tree trunk.
Others soon followed, zipping across the air, snapping branches and sending bark flying.
They’d been carefully positioned so they could travel as far as possible before hitting a tree, green beams crisscrossing, illuminating the area in neon and smoke.
He gave up counting them after he passed a dozen, keeping low to the ground even though he was supposedly in the safe zone.
What about Oberon?
Was the alpha safe?
A sick feeling tightened his insides, and Fen bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from springing up and going to look for him. There was a reason he’d been ordered to stay, so he’d stay.
But that didn’t stop the doubts from haunting him.
What if the Wardrobe had gotten to Oberon first? What if they’d already taken him down or severely injured him?
What if Fenrir had killed him himself by pressing the button?
The only way to break a claim was if one of the pair died, yet there wasn’t a single part of him that wanted that outcome.
Even if he’d only just discovered their new bond, and logic told him he hadn’t been given the chance to properly process all that it meant, Fen was positive that he didn’t want the alpha dead.
His alpha dead.
His.
Oberon King hadn’t even been his for that long. Not counting all the time Fenrir had been trapped in influx and delirious, he’d only been his alpha for just shy of two hours.
He’d belonged somewhere for less than two hours, and Michelle was already trying to destroy that for him.
A frustrated noise tore from his lips, but he remained crouched, eyes scanning the area as beams of light continued to flick about. The lasers were aimed anywhere from waist to eye level, probably to ensure targets of all sizes would be eliminated.
The White Frost was seriously no joke. Who even thought of turning the woods in their backyard into a massive death trap?
What possible reason could they even have for that sort of thing?
It wasn’t like they were attacked often, and certainly not at this scale.
How much of this bullshit had Oberon endured in the past?
Could Fenrir convince him to ditch the mafia?
…Probably not.
Damn.
“Why’d he have to be White Frost?” he grumbled, then corrected, “Why’d he have to be so attractive? Stupid sexy alpha, with his stupid sexy smell, and his stupid sexy bank account.”
Because, no, Fen wasn’t above falling for the guy’s money. Security was one of the most appealing things about the alpha. The cons were obvious. White Frost. Arrogant. Shitty sense of humor.
But the pros…
The pros were even harder to ignore.
Didn’t mean he was prepared to roll over and behave like the alpha wanted. Not that easily. Fen had more self-respect than that. He knew his value, even if Michelle and the rest of them were too blind to see it.
A Shout-Omega hybrid?
He was worth his weight in gold.
Even if he couldn’t produce offspring on a planet that desperately needed it, he was still a catch. The alpha was lucky to have him.
…Unless Fenrir had just inadvertently killed him.
Then it’d be his bad.
It seemed like forever before the sounds and sights of the lasers finally came to a stop.
Smoke drifted, mingling with the falling snow to create a blanket of sorts that made it difficult to see.
Fenrir stayed put, keeping his breathing as even as he was able as he waited.
With each passing second, the desperation and worry grew.
He couldn’t remember getting the bite. That wasn’t fair. So much of his life wasn’t fair. Surely the universe wouldn’t take this chance away from him too. Even if the only reason Oberon had claimed him was to get him on the White Frost’s side, Fenrir could accept that.
A nagging tightness in his chest had his restlessness growing, and no longer able to contain it, he started moving. It wasn’t in a Shout’s nature to wait while their partner might be in danger. He’d given it his best shot. That would have to be enough to satisfy his alpha.
The forest settled into relative silence, the sounds of his bare feet crunching in the snow the only thing heard for what seemed like miles. That stillness was only broken by the sudden storm sweeping through the trees as though summoned.
Thick flakes began tumbling from the sky, making it even more difficult to see as Fenrir trudged his way through the woods. Judging by the extreme drop in temperature and the harsh winds, the storm was going to be a bad one. The cold might not affect him, but his alpha was a different story.
If the alpha was dead, what should Fenrir do?
Though he hadn’t given them the chance to, there was no doubt in his mind that those soldiers had been sent to kill him as well. This wasn’t a rescue or retrieval mission, if it had been, they would have come in the dead of night and tried to infiltrate the cottage.
Which meant Michelle must have found out about the claiming bite.
Fen could run. Maybe he’d make it, maybe he wouldn’t.
The Wardrobe was definitely after him, but he could get ahead of the White Frost, and after this little light show display, they were clearly the more dangerous of the two.
He could head for the docks and barter for a spot on the first ship to literally anywhere.
He could disappear.
And spend the rest of his days as miserable and trapped as he had the past decade.
Hiding and locked away like some hideous creature unfit for society or the basic comforts of life.
Like friends.
Family.
A place to belong.
Was it foolish of him to so desperately want to be accepted by another living soul? Yes.
Was it even more foolish to want to be accepted by Oberon King, a person he wasn’t even sure had a soul to begin with?
Yes times a million.
But the alpha had dropped eleven million on Fenrir at the start of all this.
Surely he could take a chance on him, the same way he’d taken a chance on Fen.
Giving him the bite was no light matter.
Despite his earlier thoughts, he knew better.
Oberon wouldn’t have wasted his once-in-a-lifetime chance at a mate over something like the petty scuffle between the White Frost and the Wardrobe.
If this had taught Fenrir anything, it was that Michelle was so far over her head it was laughable.
Some things were sacred, even amongst evil people.
The only reason an alpha would claim an omega was because he wanted to.
Despite hardly knowing one another, Oberon had chosen Fenrir.
For life.
“He can’t die on me.” Fen picked up his pace, feet taking him down the path before he threw caution to the wind and deviated from it.
Relying on his omega instincts, he sniffed at the air, searching for any hint of that familiar alpha scent that always riled him up. There was so much blood that it made it hard at first, but eventually he caught wind of it, following the trail further from the direction of the path.
It wasn’t long before he found the first body, already partially buried in snow. Then the second.
The third.
He stopped counting at seven, unsure if he should feel smug over the fact Michelle had sent so many to kill him and his alpha or be angry at her betrayal.
It wasn’t like it was a shock.
Fenrir paused, tipping his head as the pull on his chest grew.
The scent of his alpha was faint, and though he’d never experienced a Shout bond before, he instinctively knew what to do.
Pairing it with his omega senses, he used this newfound awareness to seek Oberon out, more confident than he’d been a moment ago.
Some of the bodies had holes burned straight through them, and others were missing limbs.
A few were frozen with their fingers around their throats, as though they’d been struggling to breathe.
The largest group of them was around fifteen, and when he discovered them, another sense of relief came over him for seemingly no reason.
Fenrir scrambled up a steep incline, completely unaffected by the cold wind as it tossed his hair about, frost sticking to his clothing. At the top, he caught the scent again, picking up the pace as he raced toward it, knowing he should be more cautious with his movements, yet unable.
Was it like this for everyone who mated? Did they usually take to each other this quickly?
Whispers had been all but extinct for decades.
When he’d been a Shout and an alpha, Fen hadn’t even dreamed of finding one.
His grandparents had been sure to educate him, though.
He knew all about the connection that could form between a Shout and their Whisper.
How possessive they could become of one another.
How all-consuming a bond like that could be.
It was similar to alphas and omegas. Even with a bond that couldn’t be physically felt, an alpha would be drawn to their omega, and vice versa.
Maybe Fenrir was reacting this way because he was both Shout and omega. Maybe his biology couldn’t tell the difference between a Whisper and an alpha, and all that mattered was he was mated now.
Honestly, Fen didn’t really care about the why. Even if that made him pathetic. Even if it was hard to understand.
He wanted whatever it was Oberon had been trying to offer him at the cottage.
He wanted the chance to choose the alpha back.
The scent led him to a blood trail, and even though he’d seen a ton of them by now, it caused his heart to leap in his chest. The red smear across the snow curved, vanishing between two large trees with heavy foliage around them.
The alpha was there, leaning against one of the trunks.