Chapter Thirteen
Knox
I’m trying not to stare at her.
But I am.
Because in the pale morning light of General Stone’s office, she looks lost. All nervous tics and hunched shoulders, flinching every time she meets one of our eyes like we might shatter her just by looking too hard.
She didn’t behave this way when we saw her at the entrance to Blackgate fortress.
Blaze disappeared for a while, locks hold no meaning to the soldier, then reappeared with the stink of frustration and sadness wafting off him.
I think the dickhead did something to upset her, but at the moment I can’t prove it or reprimand him.
It’s been hours since we arrived.
In that time, we’ve been stripped of our weapons, handcuffed like criminals, and locked in a holding cell as though we are ticking bombs they’re too scared to defuse.
A doctor came to check my injuries, just like Halley promised.
She found a bullet lodged in my shoulder, so tangled up in tendons that my body hadn’t pushed it out.
She cut my shoulder open and fished out the bullet.
Impressively, she worked fast and stayed professional, despite my snarls and barks of pain.
She left after hooking me up to a blood bag. I hate those. Feels wrong to have another fucker’s blood pumping in my veins. But it helped. I don’t feel great, but I’m not dying either which is the best a soldier can hope for after a hard battle.
I’ve got a dozen new scars, still pink and raw. They’ll speak testament to the danger I rescued our Omega from, and I’ll wear them with pride.
As dawn broke, we were finally cleared to meet with General mother-fucking Stone.
His office is small but imposing. Cold stone clashing with the radiant heat from the fire roaring in the hearth.
Halley’s scent is choking the room.
I couldn’t pick out another aroma in this office if I tried. My Alpha is locked onto her like it’s mission-critical and I’m still fighting to keep her alive.
I’m stuck in a loop of trying to figure out why she smells different from before. Our camp used to be filled with the sweet, alluring scent of unmated Omega. That’s gone now, and is replaced with something more nuanced.
Lavender and lightning, yeah. Still hers. But underneath that?
Gunpowder. Pine. Smoke. Spice.
Ours.
Realization hits me square in the chest. Followed by a wash of pure satisfaction. It’s heavy and hot and primal.
We did that.
She smells like a mated Omega even though we didn’t claim her.
There is no bite on her mating gland, and we certainly didn’t get the privilege of drenching her in our combined scent while fucking her through her heat.
But the aroma of mated Omega is there. It’s faint and fractured, but strong enough that every time she nervously shifts in her seat, the scent intensifies and my head swims.
The others are stuck on it too. I can sense it in their breathing, in the subtle ticks of restraint. The air is thick with it. Arousal. Recognition. Possession.
“Ah, good to see the flame of attraction is still alive despite your… little hiccup.”
Blaze scoffs.
“She betrayed us,” he says, shooting Halley a glare. “Bit more than a hiccup.”
Halley bows her head and picks at her nails. It’s a nervous habit I remember well. She’s changed, we all have, and it’s reassuring to witness familiar traits shining through. The Omega we fell in love with is still in there.
I can admit its love… or was. We all fell hard for Halley. It took me far too long to acknowledge that she’s ours. Still is. No matter what happened. No matter how deep the damage runs or how raw the betrayal still feels. Halley Sparks is our Omega.
I narrow my eyes.
There’s a thin cut on her cheek. It’s shallow, healed into a pink line, but fresh.
My gut clenches.
It didn’t come from the firefight. Coupled with Blaze’s strange mood, I don’t approve of what it suggests.
“Blaze. Stop,” I say, low and hard.
He doesn’t look at me, but his teeth snap together with a click.
We’re not going to fix any of this if Blaze keeps throwing matches at gasoline. He used to be the one who made us laugh when everything felt like shit. Now? Fuck. He’s a liability at best.
“What, Knox?” Blaze snarls. “Are we supposed to just forget she's a traitor? That she lied and Commanded us to watch her walk away?”
He drags his hand down his face, fingers digging into his new scars like he’s trying to rip the anger out of his own skin.
The salty scent of tears drifts through the air, and I grit my teeth.
Omega tears.
Fuck.
It’s the worst scent in the rut-damn world.
I fucking hate knowing she’s sad.
Viper shifts, his boots creaking, and he exhales sharply.
This is the last thing we need right now.
General Stone is unlike any foe we’ve ever faced. He’s not a hostile enemy. Nor is he a friend. We need our wits about us.
Instead, my protective instincts are going wild.
"Now, now. Let’s leave the past behind and focus on your future and how fortunate we are that you’ve found your way back to each other,” General Stone says, his voice too smooth to be trusted.
I don’t believe in coincidences, and I certainly don’t believe General Stone relies on them.
He knew we’d be in Rheamont. He sent Halley into that blood-soaked mess for a reason. Maybe to force a reunion. Maybe to test her limits. Maybe both.
He lowers himself into the creaking leather chair behind his desk like a man settling into a throne.
The General looks older than the last time I saw him.
He was always old, but he's aged quickly. He has a frailty in his movements, and there is a tremor in his hands that wasn't there before. His hair is more white than gray and it's thinning on top.
But the cunning look in his eyes is the same.
He's still the tough old bastard he's always been. Manipulative. A seasoned strategist playing the long game, using us like pieces on a board he designed. I don’t know the extent of his manipulations, but if we play this meeting right, he may just tell us.
“You were the first team I put together that bonded, you know.” He steeple his fingers.
His sharp gaze flicks across the five of us like he’s still running calculations.
“I'd tried before.”
He created more squads like us?
“But I could never get the mix of personalities right. The Alphas always fought for dominance and the Betas were collateral. It was death and chaos, every time,” he says, almost fondly.
My stomach turns.
It’s like he’s recalling a fun little hobby that took a while to master. As if the soldiers before us were just scratches on a chalkboard and not a series of failed human experiments.
Something smug glints behind his thinning lashes.
“But you four were different,” he says. “You were magic from the beginning. And you knew it too. What do you call each other? Right. Brothers. Bonded as close as family… a Pack.”
A growl starts low in my throat, and I bite it back so hard my jaw pops. It vibrates through my teeth anyway, a primal sound of betrayal curdling in my gut.
Yeah. We knew.
We knew from our first mission that we were more than good together. We were alive. Four pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. Whole in a way none of us had been before.
And now he’s saying he designed that. Our compatibility wasn’t fate. It was a slimy old man with control issues.
Blaze doesn’t bother trying to stop his growl.
“You sayin’ we’re an experiment, old man?” he snarls, pacing behind Halley like a captured wolf in a too small cage. She tenses with every pass, instinctively shrinking smaller, trying not to breathe too loud.
I hate that. Hate how close Blaze is to losing control. Hate that she’s in the blast radius if he does.
“Of course you were. Didn’t you ever wonder why you were given privileged treatment?” Stone replies, unbothered. As though it’s obvious and we should be grateful.
I had wondered. Many times. But a Prime Alpha obeys orders without question.
“You had your pick of the best missions. The best equipment. Knox had free agency to lead Scorch Squad as he chose. Shade, a mere Beta, was given the rights of an Alpha. Viper would have been put down years ago, but I allowed him to live. And Blaze…” he pauses, as if savoring the insults, “let’s just say your usefulness had run its course.
My experiment kept you alive and together. ”
Shade is stone-faced, but his nostrils flare slightly.
Viper hasn’t blinked. He’s gone still in that terrifying way he gets before he slips into Blood Lust and someone ends up in pieces.
And Blaze? He’s pacing harder. Faster. Flicking his lighter open and shut like it’s the only thing keeping his fists from flying.
I exhale through my nose, fighting the tight band of rage coiling around my chest. I shove it down. There are still questions unanswered.
Stone moves to the window as if he’s winding up for a lecture, not standing in front of a squad of super-soldiers one snapped nerve away from tearing him apart.
There’s a silence, long and heavy, as we wait.
For the answer.
For the game plan.
For the ‘why the fuck did you do this’ we’re all too proud to beg for.
And he gives it. Right on cue.
“You’re wondering why I did all of this,” Stone says, gesturing at us and then out the window at the soldiers marching in practiced sync. “Why I created a rebellion here in Blackgate Fortress. Why I created a Pack. But mostly… why I sent Omega Sparks to you to train.”
‘Yes, you dickbag. That. All of that.’ Shade snaps in my mind, his frustration leaking through the bond.
"For years, I watched as civilian unrest grew and the Human invasion loomed closer.
It was clear our species stood at the brink of extinction.
So I began planning. Not just for survival, but for sanctuary.
We needed a stronghold no enemy could breach.
And to defend it, we would need more than walls or weapons. "
His eyes flick back toward us. The corner of his mouth twitches as he watches us, waiting for some kind of recognition of his brilliance.