Chapter 7 #3
“You don’t know she’s a victim,” I reply, glaring at him. “That’s the problem. You’re making decisions based on emotions, not facts. You’re remembering only what you felt and making assumptions based strictly on that alone. It’s going to get you killed.”
Apparently, my words are enough to push Gav across his breaking point.
I don’t blame him, either. We’ve never fought like this in the middle of a meeting.
There’s rarely any drama between the seven of us.
It’s one of the reasons he gave us our positions in the first place and chose us to be his inner-circle when he could have picked any of the other thousands of Bastards from around the world.
“SIT. DOWN.” His huge body unfolds from his chair until he’s towering over the table.
When he speaks, he’s deadly calm.
“Monday night—that’s two nights from now—you’re going back in, Caelan.”
My stomach drops. “Gav—”
“I said he’s going.” Those amber eyes turn on me, and I can see the irritation and disappointment in them.
“I’ve heard your suggestions. I’ve listened to your reasoning.
Frankly, I heard far more than I needed to.
If you bring it up again, you’re going to be relegated to the security room.
I don’t like the idea of grounding a grown-ass male, but if you’re going to act like a child, disrupting my meetings, then I’ll have no choice. ”
Well. Fuck.
Pivoting, he turns his glare on Caelan. “If you step one foot out of line, I will pull you. You are one of the best warriors this organization has ever had when it comes to recon. I’m choosing to overlook your reaction to the Omega in favor of the centuries of perfect missions and patrols you have under your belt.
Do not make a fool out of me. You get into that house, find what you can, and get out.
If I find out you’ve been knot deep in an Omega—any Omega—you’re done. Understood?”
Caelan inclines his head in acceptance. “Understood,”
“Are we clear, Daxen?” Gav refocuses on me.
“Crystal,” I reply through my clenched jaw.
Gav nods in satisfaction. “Meeting adjourned. Get out of my sight.”
It doesn’t surprise me how quickly the room clears after that.
Before I’ve had a chance to look up, Silas has already made a beeline for the hall, and Gav is right behind him.
Caelan doesn’t wait, either, grabbing his gym bag off the floor by his feet and slinging it over his shoulder in a single smooth motion.
I watch him, willing him to at least look at me before he leaves. Instead, I’m met with silence as he pushes past me and disappears around the corner and into the hall.
Vae falls into the seat closest to me and lets out a weary breath. “That was fun.”
“He’ll get over it,” I mutter, pulling up the schematics and blueprints of the Varenthrall Estate. If I can’t keep Caelan away from the Omega, I’ll have to do my best to protect him in every other way I can.
“Will he?”
Vae’s soft words pull my attention from the blueprints.
I glance at my brother, but his attention is fixed on the closed door where Caelan left without even a goodbye.
There’s nothing Vae hates more than when our pack fights.
He’s a people-pleaser to the extreme, and avoids confrontation like the plague.
I stay silent, and Vae doesn’t push for an answer, which is good because, for the first time in centuries, I don’t have one to give.
Omegas are so good at making Alphas look stupid. They can do it without even trying.
I’ve seen the strongest, most intelligent, most tactical Alphas fall apart at the whims of their Omega more times than I care to admit.
I once knew a Bastard who’d been held captive by the Severed for sixty-two days.
The male was covered in scars, had lost an eye, and barely had any feeling left in his left hand by the time we got him out.
The amount of torture he’d had to have gone through to sustain that kind of physical damage was unfathomable.
That’s not what makes him such a bad ass, though. For sixty-two days, he was tortured for information. Locations, plans, safe houses. Sixty-two days of unthinkable pain, and we weren’t even sure he’d even be alive when we found him.
When he was finally rescued, the first thing they did after getting him stable was discover everything he let slip.
Not one Bastard expected him to last that long without giving up information.
No one thought it was possible, and we wouldn’t have blamed him.
We’d been so sure he’d at least let a few things slip that Gav had multiple teams on stand-by, ready to move compounds, burn safe houses, and relocate families.
Turns out, he didn’t have to do any of that, because Alistair hadn’t given in. Not once.
Not for anything.
It was…. Unconscionable. From then on, he’s been the standard to which all Bastards measure themselves. A hero, and the toughest asshole any of us has ever known.
A few decades after his capture and rescue, he and his pack finally found their Scent Matched Omega. Not only that, but she was their Blood Mate, as well. An incredible rarity. Fate only blesses around twelve-percent of vampires with the additional Blood Mate Bond.
We were all thrilled for him, including me. I may distrust Omegas, but if anyone deserved happiness, it was Alistair and his pack. They’d been through hell.
I was in the main hall when they arrived for a visit at HQ. It was 1945, and their Omega had just given birth.
The moment she’d stepped out of the car, Alistair had been there. One hand on her elbow, another on her lower back. His packmates were grabbing luggage out of the taxi, darting worried glances at their Mate and newborn.
Alistair hovered over her like she was made of glass. “Are you alright? Can I carry you? Why don’t you give Naidar to Bjorn?”
She’d swatted him away playfully. “I’m fine. I’ve been sitting for far too long as it is.”
He’d frowned, refusing to let go of her. “I know, I just—let me help you. Please?”
Inside, it got even worse. The Omega mentioned she was thirsty, and Alistair wasted no time tripping over himself to get her a drink. He ran off to the kitchens, paused, turned back around, and jogged back to crouch next to her chair.
He didn’t walk back. He didn’t stride back with purpose.
The decorated warrior I fought with in more battles than I could count practically ran back to his Omega like a damn puppy chasing a ball.
“What would you like?” He asked, and he sounded like her answer would be the most important words he would ever hear. “Water? Juice? Tea? I’ll make you some tea. Daxen, what kind of tea do you have? Nothing with caffeine, she’s breastfeeding.”
Fucking. Breastfeeding.
I sat there, watching the male who endured sixty-two days of unspeakable torture without breaking… fall apart over the place.
Over tea. For an Omega.
It only got worse. The next three days, the warrior we held to the highest standard, who had become a damn legend for his strength and loyalty, fell apart over beverage temperatures, caffeine levels, the possibility of bones in fish, how high the flames got in the fireplace, and dozens of other ridiculous concerns.
My pack spent the visit fawning over the new baby, sharing in Alistair and the rest of his pack’s joy, and very obviously yearning for a Mate of their own.
I, on the other hand, was the only one who saw clearly what was actually happening.
I watched as the legend I looked up to was systematically reduced to a simpering fool who had a crisis over caffeine levels.
That Omega turned one of the greatest warriors in centuries into a weak male. I knew, with absolute certainty, that if he were captured again and there was a threat to his Mate, he’d have sold every one of us out with a smile on his face before they’d even finished interrogating him.
I’m not an asshole. I don’t necessarily believe that every Omega goes out of their way to manipulate any Alpha they can get their claws in. Still, I don’t trust the way Alphas change when they let themselves fall under an Omega’s spell.
I learned the hard way what happens when you let biology overtake logic. When you allow an Omega to cloud your judgment and give in to the drive to protect and provide.
I will never make that mistake again.
I certainly won’t sit back and let my brother make the same mistakes I did.
I’ve spent centuries protecting Caelan and Vae, and if I have to protect them against some unknown twenty-two-year-old human female, then that’s what I’m going to do.
Something big is coming. We can all feel it. It’s just a matter of when.
And if this afternoon has taught me anything, it’s that when shit hits the fan, I’m going to be the one left to pick up the pieces.
Just like I always do