30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Shade
Day Two
The Communication Office is the closest thing the Fortress has to a nervous system.
Cables run everywhere, screens glow with maps and frequency graphs, and the air carries that dry, charged smell of overheated electronics that never fully cool down.
I feel right at home. I spent years in and out of an office similar to this before I was deployed with Scorch Squad.
Jason is hunched over a desk with a datapad braced against his forearm, scrolling fast as he skims for keywords.
I set my own datapad down beside his and pull up the folder we've been building piece-by-piece.
With General Stone dead, his personal server is the only place we can go to find plans for the war. It was hidden behind a military-grade firewall, but it took me less than a minute to crack it. Most of the files are obsolete, decades of Stone monitoring squad movements and gathered enemy intel.
The more interesting data is recent.
I have a database detailing all the assets the rebel army possesses. Vehicles, supplies, weapons, and most importantly, personnel. With this data, I now fully understand what the final stand of the Demi-humans might look like.
With every file I add, our chances of defending against the enemy look slimmer and slimmer. A small shred of hope keeps me digging. What if the next file I pull up has details on where to find a cache of rockets, artillery shells, and mortars?
Jason exhales and stretches his arms above his head, his back clicking obnoxiously before he settles back into his chair and glances at me. "We’ve been up all night, you should go get some rest."
"I'm not going if you're staying," I reply, raising a challenging brow. "Can't have you calling me soft behind my back."
Jason’s mouth quirks.
When I first met Halley's friends, I didn't think I'd like them. I saw them as competition for her affection. A place where she could escape from us.
Now, I'm pleased to call them my friends too. They're even starting to become something I might call family.
Both Everlyn and Jason have been instrumental in keeping our Pack safe and, recently, this army from failing.
"Knox wants a list of assets to run through before the war council this afternoon," he says. "That translates into 'no sleep for data monkeys'."
The war council is, in practice, a collection of everyone with even a passing interest in leading this army.
Knox knows exactly what he is doing by bringing them in.
Once they get a proper look at the state the General left things in, they are far more likely to back off than challenge him for command.
I exhale on a dry laugh, "Am I supposed to guess that we're those monkeys?"
"Correct. Now this monkey needs a banana and another coffee for breakfast, want anything from the mess hall?" he asks with a loopy grin derived from a lack of sleep and too much caffeine.
"Nah." I shake my head and then pause. "But if you see Halley, send her my way?"
Jason's grin widens as he gives me a thumbs up, rambling to himself even as he departs the Comms Office.
"Ah, to be newly mated. I remember it fondly, Everlyn used to do this thing with her…" his voice trails away with him down the corridor, and I'm glad I don't have a fresh explicit mental image of my friends.
I'm hoping he runs into Halley so I can have a visitor. I have to keep working, but I miss my Omega like crazy. I want to kiss the tip of her nose and bury my face in her lavender-scented hair before I force myself through another few hours of dry spreadsheets and poorly written supply logs.
I know that if I don't get some sleep soon, I'll end up in the infirmary from burnout, even if my healing is enhanced thanks to our Pack.
The mention of the infirmary triggers my thoughts to slide.
It happens without my consent, my exhausted mind helpless to stop the surge of panic.
Two weeks.
Pregnant Omega.
The possibility. The might. The maybe.
Halley could be pregnant at this very moment, and this knowledge is sitting in the middle of the Pack like an unexploded device.
Logic tells me there’s no use building plans for pregnancy before we have confirmation. Plans require correct information, and right now we have nothing but a timeline and fear.
I repeat that to myself as if repetition will make it stick. I cannot make a plan yet.
It doesn’t work because my mind keeps returning to a question none of us know the answer to.
Are we ready for a baby? If she is pregnant, the future becomes real in a way we’ve never allowed ourselves to imagine, and I’m not sure the members of Scorch Squad deserve to have it after all the killing we've done.
A soft chime cuts through my spiral. Jason’s datapad lights up with a priority flag. I leap out of my chair and dash into one of the side rooms.
This is what we've been waiting for.
A machine is manned by one of Jason's soldiers, headphones clapped over his ears.
I lean over the soldier's shoulder, eyes narrowing as I read the screen.
"Where am I looking?" I ask him, and he points to a recurring spike in the waveforms, and then at the time stamps.
"We're only intercepting distortion, low fidelity, but it's enough. That's not idle chatter," he says firmly.
My jaw sets. "No. It isn’t."
I clap the soldier on the shoulder and praise him for spotting the broken pattern, but I don't linger. My attention slips away from the room, from the hum and the heat of the machines.
Because I know what these intercepted communications mean.
The enemy is on the move again, and every second we waste arguing about leadership or trying to decipher the mess of Stone's paperwork is a second we hand them for free.
Air catches in my throat.
The numbers I've been reading all night won’t leave my head.
The ration counts, the dwindling ammo, the lack of any anti-missile defense, the empty bunks, and the thin line of tired soldiers standing between the fate of our people and what’s coming.
I can finally see the whole shape of it now, and I almost wish I hadn't, because it's ugly and depleted.
It's not enough to defend the Pass.
It was never going to be enough.
The General was wrong about plenty, but he was right about one thing.
Halley's Omega Command is our only hope of survival.
The door opens behind me.
I turn, already braced for another soldier with a dire report, or a problem that needs solving.
Halley steps into the Communication Office instead, carrying two cups of coffee and two covered plates, somehow balanced against her hip.
The first hit of her scent moves through me, lavender, warm skin, nest blankets, and Pack. She looks sleepy around the eyes, but determined, which means I am about to be managed by a very stubborn Omega.
"Jason said you were in need of some Omega cuddles."
"That traitor," I mutter good-naturedly.
Halley’s mouth curves. "He also said you hadn’t eaten."
"A traitor and a gossip."
I help her set the cups and plates down on the least cluttered stretch of desk. I settle back into my chair as she eyes the half-opened ration bar beside my datapad.
"Please tell me that wasn’t breakfast."
"It tasted like cardboard, but I think it had some nutritional value."
"That's debatable. I think it really is just bar-shaped cardboard."
She hands me a coffee, then steps between my knees, looks down at me and sighs.
"You look awful, Shade," she says.
"Ah, the exact words a man wants to hear from his new mate."
"I'm being serious." Her thumb moves across my temple, and I close my eyes because it feels amazing, soothing the low-level tension headache that has been growing for hours.
"What do you need?" she asks.
I open my eyes and find her watching me carefully.
Hmm, what do I need? A plan, more soldiers, better weapons, a way to protect her from what this war will demand from her. None of those are in her power to give me, so I tighten my hands around her waist and pull her closer, pressing my face into her soft belly.
"This," I say. "I need this."
Halley’s arms come around me.
She doesn’t tell me it will be okay. She knows better than that, and I love her for it. Her fingers slide into my hair again, then settle at my temple, working slow circles against the ache behind my eyes.
The pressure in my skull begins to loosen.
I exhale against her stomach, and she makes a small, pleased sound above me. Then her purr starts, and it vibrates through my chest. My shoulders drop and my grip on her waist gentles. While the ugly math for the war council is still there, it's no longer clawing at the front of my thoughts.
Halley keeps purring until my breathing settles into the same slow rhythm as hers.
When the sound fades, the room rushes back in around us. Screens hum, radios crackle, and somewhere behind us, a soldier murmurs into a headset.
Her fingers go still at my temple. "There you are," she says softly.
I turn my face and press a kiss to her shirt. "Did I go somewhere?"
"A little."
Guilt tightens beneath my ribs. "I’m sorry."
Halley slides her hand down to my cheek and tilts my face back until I’m looking at her. "Don’t apologize for needing me."
I rest my chin against her stomach, my hands loose at her hips while her purple eyes search mine. She sees too much, as always, but I’m too tired to hide properly.
"You’re scared," she says.
I draw in a slow breath. "The army is moving again, the files are worse than I hoped, and every answer I find leads back to you having to sacrifice more of yourself than I want you to."
Her expression shifts, but she doesn’t pull away.
"And Everlyn’s news?" she asks.
My grip tightens before I can stop it. "That too."
Halley bends and presses her mouth to my forehead. "Then talk to me, Shade. I'm your partner, your mate, and we share our problems because they're heavy to carry on our own."
Her words settle into me slowly.
Since she came back to us, I’ve been analyzing her new reactions with more caution than I wanted to admit.
Halley died in Viper's arms and returned changed, steadier when she used to be unsure, and more certain in choices that once made her doubt herself.
At first, that scared me. I kept waiting to discover death had taken some vital part of her and that the Halley I loved was gone for good.
I was wrong.
This is still Halley.
She still fusses over the people she loves, blushes when desire catches her off guard, and has a quiet stubbornness that I've always admired.
Except now she doesn't bottle everything up until it explodes out of her.
Some of her fights with Knox could have been resolved by clear communication when the problem first arose instead of her letting it simmer.
She is braver now, and confronts issues directly.
Encouraged by her, I try to open up as well.
I press my cheek against her stomach and let the truth gather slowly, because this is Halley, and I owe her more than polished answers.
"I think I’d be a good dad," I say.
Her fingers still in my hair.
I almost regret saying it until her hand settles against my cheek.
"You would," she says. "You’d be wonderful."
I smile softly, encouraged by her belief in me.
"I’ve wanted a family since the day they took me from mine," I admit. "I was a child, and I didn’t only miss my parents’ faces or the sound of home.
I missed sitting close to someone without wondering what they wanted from me.
I missed falling asleep with a hand on my back because I was loved and being known as a person before I was trained into a soldier. "
Halley’s thumb moves over my cheek, and I lean into it.
"Now I have the Pack," I continue. "And I get pieces of that every day: Knox gripping my shoulder when he passes, Viper nudging his knee against mine under the table, and Blaze sprawling half across my ribs because personal space doesn't exist in his world.
And there's you, purring against my cheek when I can’t make the numbers stop moving through my head. "
She sighs gently, her belly rising and falling against my face.
"I want time with that," I say. "Time with us. If we survive what's coming, I want to be selfish with this bond before anything else needs us."
Her hand slides to the back of my neck.
"A baby would be incredible," I whisper. "I know I’d love them. I know all of us would. But they would also need everything, and we haven’t had a chance to simply belong to each other yet."
I look up at her. Halley’s eyes shine, but she doesn’t look wounded.
I hold her gaze.
"So yes, I want a family. I also want you to know that you’re already my family, baby girl. Nothing Everlyn tells us will change that."
Halley’s eyes fill, and I feel an ache in the bond before she blinks her tears back.
"I don’t know what I want," she admits. "That’s the part I'm struggling with most."
Her fingers slide from my cheek to the side of my neck, resting over my pulse.
"I thought I knew who I was without this as an option. I built a whole life around the fact that pregnancy would never happen to me. Now everyone keeps waiting for me to have a feeling I can name, and I can’t."
"You don’t have to name it yet."
Her mouth presses tight. "What if I’m relieved?"
"Then you’re relieved."
"What if I’m disappointed?"
"Then you’re disappointed."
Her eyes search mine. "And if I’m both?"
I pull her closer until her body fits against mine again, warm and trembling under my hands.
"Then we sit with both," I say.
Her purr starts again, softer this time.
I close my eyes and just breathe her in.
The priority alert blinks on Jason’s abandoned datapad.
I see it over Halley’s shoulder and feel the weight of my work settle back into place.
The war has not paused because my Omega is in my arms. The enemy is still moving, the Pass is still vulnerable, and the only plan we have still asks more from her than what anyone should ever have to give.
As Halley’s purr moves through me, I hold her closer and let myself remember why I have to find a way through this.
I want quiet mornings with her, time in the nest, and a chance to simply belong to my Pack.