Rushing up to the barn door, the wooden entrance shattered with a flick of my hand. I grabbed the blue tarp that hid a gray SUV and ripped it from the car. The car's parking lights flickered as I pressed the remote control. I jumped into the SUV and revved the engine before hightailing out of the abandoned barn, leaving the agents in the middle of the clearing. Their struggling figures disappeared behind a cloud of dust as I sped toward the nearest intersection, which led to the highway.
Driving at 90 m/p, I weaved past the grandma's driving on the road. Their angry honks trailed behind me. With white knuckles clutching the steering wheel, I ran through the different scenarios of how I could flee the country. First, I had to ditch the SUV; agent Benette must have seen the color and model of the car. Secondly, I needed to get ahead of the roadblocks before the authorities had the manpower to erect them.
I was so removed from reality, that I failed to see that the traffic had slowed. The familiar glow of police siren lights flickered on. Fuck! A trap! Benette must have anticipated my moves. I slammed my fist against the dashboard, leaving a massive dent behind—time to improvise. I grabbed the bag beside me and exited the SUV. The sound of incoming sirens to my back told me the agents had caught up to me.
I slammed the door shut and walked to the bridge's edge to peer over. Damn, the was no river below just a forest. But It had to do. If I slowed my descent I might land safely amongst the forest floor. I grabbed the rough, worn-down concrete banister, the cool surface scratching against my palms. Taking a deep breath, I shifted my weight and pushed myself onto the ledge. My feet barely found their place on the edge, and I wobbled for a second, trying to steady myself against the dizzying drop below. The wind tugged at my clothes, and I clung to the gritty banister, gripping tight to keep my balance. Once stable, I rose to my feet.
"I wouldn't do that, Mr. Grant," Benette's grave voice pierced the air with authority. "There's other ways of resolving this, than taking such drastic measures."
Benette stood off to the side with his team with their weapons drawn. I scoffed as if they thought that I would be intimidated. "And what's the alternative? Being dragged in front of the Wolven Council and letting them shove me into one of their breeding facilities? As if I'd let them use me again. I'd rather die."
Agent Benette and his team fidgeted about at my declaration. Not that I was afraid of dying; it was better than the life I'd live if the pack of mutts had their claws sunk in me. I could see in my mind's vision the smug faces of the Wolven Council and my pack--especially my father. I'd never give them the satisfaction.
"There's always a solution to every problem," Benette proclaimed, inching nearer. "The Wolven Council isn't as dreadful as you proclaim they are. Their only concern was for us to take you in without excessive force. They take their duty in protecting every Omega very seriously."
I couldn't help but laugh at his idiotic statement. How could a guy be so delusional? "They don't care for us!" I spit out angrily. "They only care about their precious breeding tools not being broken beyond repair."
Slade let out a low chuckle, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as his fingers traced along the cold, smooth barrel of his gun. "You're the delusional one, Omega. You've allowed what happened to you, years ago to jade your reality into thinking that the council and packs are out to destroy your life. You can't see past your pain and see the good you've done to a pack that sorely needed an heir."
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat nearly choking me as I struggled to keep the tears from breaking free. My chest tightened with the memory of my pup, the pain still fresh despite the time that had passed. I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. I hadn't let myself cry in years, not since I decided to bury my past so deep I thought I'd never have to face it again. But now, it was clawing its way back, making it harder with every second to keep the floodgates closed.
"Your son is loved and taken care of by people who love--"
"Shut the fuck up!" I hissed at Slade for trying to use my child to defend those assholes. "Don't bring them into this. You know nothing!"
That's all it took—a split second of distraction, and suddenly, I was on the ground. The warm tarmac pressed against my skin, my bag jabbing painfully into my back. Before I could even think about getting up or fighting back, I heard the cold click of cuffs locking around my wrists. Panic surged as I tried to call on the runes etched into my skin, but they stayed silent, ignoring my desperate commands. Not again!
I thrashed wildly, kicking out at anyone who got too close, my body twisting in every direction. One solid kick landed right where it hurt most—Slade doubled over, clutching his crotch, groaning in pain. But before I could savor the tiny victory, Benette's rough, calloused hand wrapped tight around my throat, cutting off my breath. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a strangled gasp.
Then, a sharp prick in my neck—everything started to blur. The world spun around me, the sky swirling like paint mixed in water. Moments later, darkness crept in, swallowing me whole, like someone flipped a switch and turned off the lights.
🌕🩸🌲🌙🐾 Deputy Omega 🐾🌙 🌲🩸🌕
"Wake up, Sleepy Head. Wake up, dickhead!" Orion yelled, his voice reverberating through my aching skull.
So now the fucker decided to voice his discontent.
"Yeah, I did. While you're lying here and sleeping your ass off, you're giving those fuckers the chance to wrap the rope tighter around our neck."
My eyes snapped open, struggling to adjust to the harsh, sterile light overhead. Everything was blurry at first, a mix of muted whites and washed-out blues. It took me a second to realize I was staring at a plain ceiling with those ugly, square tiles that seemed to go on forever. The faint hum of machinery buzzed in my ears, rhythmic beeps cutting through the silence.
As my vision cleared, I made out the typical stuff—white walls, sterile as all hell, with a small TV mounted in the corner, but it was off, leaving the room in this weird kind of stillness. A flimsy, pale blue curtain hung limply on a metal rail by the bed, half-drawn as if someone had left it that way in a hurry. The window to my left let in a weak stream of sunlight that cast an annoying glare across my face.
The bed beneath me was hard, lumpy in a way that only hospital beds could be, with scratchy white sheets that didn't quite reach the bottom. There was that antiseptic smell, too—sharp and almost metallic like they'd tried too hard to scrub away every trace of life from the place. An IV line tugged at my arm, the bag hanging from a metal pole beside the bed, dripping steadily with something I probably didn't want to know about.
I tried to push myself up, but my muscles felt like jelly. I'd been out for longer than I thought. Why did they bring me to a hospital?
"It's good to see you've awakened, Mr. Grand," an annoying yet familiar voice broke the silence.
I groaned, trying to rub my face, but a sudden tug on my wrist kept that from happening. Suppression handcuffs. "What do you want?" I choked, grimacing as my throat screamed in pain.
A plastic cup of water suddenly appeared before my face. I glared at it momentarily, but my dry throat got the better of me. Begrudgingly, I allowed the lion shifter to hold the cup to my lips, tipping it just enough for the cool water to flow into my mouth. It was a small relief, but it felt like a godsend against the scratchy dryness in my throat. When I finished, he set the now-empty cup back on the bedside table.
The redheaded man leaned back in his chair, casually flicking a pencil against the edge of the red file in his hands, his eyes never leaving me. The rhythmic tapping grated on my nerves, matching the tension simmering between us. He tilted his head slightly, a faint, smug smile playing on his lips. "I'm here to question you on a few details I'm looking into. I hope you'll cooperate," he said, his voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of authority.
"And why should I?" I shot back, my voice edged with defiance. My fists clenched, resisting the urge to shove that smirk off his face.
His eyebrows knitted together, and the smirk vanished as he flipped open the file. His tone shifted, heavy with judgment as if he were about to lay down a verdict. "You've been a police officer for over five years. You took an oath to uphold the law. Or did you just abuse the position to hide in plain sight?" He let the question hang, every word dripping with accusation like he already knew the answer he wanted.
My jaw tightened as anger flared inside me. I never used the badge to disgrace what it stood for, but yeah, joining the force did help me access their databases, and gave me a safe place to hide for as long as I did. But I took my duties seriously. I enforced the law—just not when it meant upholding their twisted sense of order, not when it meant turning a blind eye to the people suffering under their thumb.
"Punch the fucker in the face while you're at it. We did great things for our communities while we were a cop," Orion hissed inside my head, bristling at the insult.
A low growl rumbled from my throat, directed straight at Bennette. "Fuck you. I took my duties seriously."
He didn't flinch, just pressed his lips together into a thin line. "Then there's no reason why you won't answer my questions." He tapped the pencil once more before setting it down on the table, leaning forward slightly. "The sooner you cooperate, the sooner I'll be out of your hair."
Silence stretched between us, the air thick with tension. I refused to respond, clenching my jaw until my teeth ached. Benette watched me with a cool, assessing gaze, and when it became clear I wasn't going to speak, he let out a small sigh, then took my brooding silence as his cue to continue with his interrogation.