Page 132 of Unhinged Alphas
The prisoner's face swims into focus, unbidden. A kid, really. Barely old enough to shave, let alone fight in a war. His eyes were wild with pain and fear as they wheeled him into the makeshift operating room. I remember the sickening lurch in my stomach as I saw the extent of his injuries.
Burns. Lacerations. Broken bones that had been set wrong, then re-broken. All hallmarks of prolonged, systematic torture in captivity behind enemy lines.
I'd known, intellectually, that war was hell. That atrocities happened. But seeing the evidence carved into that boy's flesh... it changed something in me.
My hands didn't shake as I worked to save him. They were steady, precise. I poured every ounce of skill and determination into putting him back together. Hour after agonizing hour, I fought against the damage inflicted by cruel men who saw him as worthless.
In the end, it wasn't enough.
He died on my table, his battered body finally giving out. As I stared at his lifeless form,something inside me hardened. Calcified. The world I'd stepped into didn't need another healer. It needed warriors who could stop monsters like the ones who'd broken this boy.
And it turned out I had a talent for killing.
The transition wasn't immediate, but it was inevitable. My medical knowledge became a weapon. I knew exactly where to cut to inflict the most lethal wounds, the most excruciating pain. The human body held no mysteries for me. Only vulnerabilities to exploit.
I'd expected to feel... something. Guilt, perhaps. Revulsion at taking lives. Instead, there was only a cold satisfaction. Each kill meant there was one less monster in the world.
Of course, I've become one myself, haven't I?
"We're here."
The beta's voice snaps me back to the present.
The corridor stretches before us, a gauntlet of thick glass windows showcasing the facility's "assets." Prisoners in gray uniforms pace their cells like caged animals, their eyes wild and unfocused. Each bears a stark ID number painted in white across their chest, a final indignity. Even their names have beenstripped away.
Then a familiar scent cuts through the antiseptic haze.
Honeysuckle.
Ivy.
My nostrils flare, drinking it in. She's close. But where?
The beta's voice fades to white noise as I scan the row of cells. My gaze locks onto an empty one, its door painted with a bright red omega symbol. The paint is glossy and fresh. Ivy's scent lingers here, but she's gone.
Fuck.
A low growl builds in Whiskey's chest. I shoot him a glare that could melt steel before he can open his big mouth. He curls his lip at me but keeps quiet. He can be pissed off all he likes. We'll settle it later.
When we have our omega back.
A flash of movement across the hall catches my eye.
My breath catches in my throat as I spot an enormous figure chained to the wall of the cell opposite the door with the omega symbol. This beast is even larger and more monstrous than Wraith. An iron mask covers its face, featureless except for two holes glowing with eerie blue light as it stares intensely at us. Its right arm is anightmarish fusion of metal and flesh, ending in a massive gauntlet with razor-sharp talons. Iron rods jut from its back.
The creature's chest heaves with each labored breath, straining against the thick chains that bind it. Despite its obvious suffering, there's an aura of raw power emanating from the beast that makes my skin crawl.
That monstrous creature could be our ace in the hole. And judging from the dark glint in Thane's eyes, he's having the same idea.
If we could somehow release it, the destruction it would wreak would be catastrophic. Alarms blaring, panicked scientists fleeing, guards scrambling to contain the chaos. In the mayhem, we could slip away with Ivy, leaving this hellhole a smoldering ruin behind us.
It's tempting. So fucking tempting.
As we pass a security station, I notice a rack of temporary keycards hanging on the wall. These cocky fucks really do make it too easy sometimes.
I snag one, draping it around my neck. We might need it later. The beta escorting us doesn't even notice. Of course she doesn't. Her head is stuffed up her own ass just like the rest of the fuckers that work here.
"Here's the first rogue asset," the beta says, stopping at the end of the hall and gesturing to a cell. "But as you can see, it's a far cry from what the soldiers encountered out there. It doesn't move much."