Ransom (The Unchained Omegaverse #1) - Callie Rhodes Page 0,19

brother took his last breath, unable to do a goddamn thing about it."

Ransom dragged his gaze back to Gretchen, forcing her to witness all the pain behind his words. "So yeah, I'd say it was pretty fucking personal."

"I'm so sorry," Gretchen repeated in a whisper.

"Save your pity," he said savagely. "I don't want it."

"But I swear I don't pity—"

She was slammed against the wall again, the impact knocking the breath from her. Ransom had one hand wrapped painfully around her bicep and the other covering her mouth to shut her up. She'd gone too far, and now he was going to kill her—

Except that he was looking upward, listening intently.

"Someone's coming. It sounds like a jeep," he muttered. Gretchen heard nothing. If Ransom was right, they were still a long way off. "Can you stay quiet?"

Gretchen nodded, exquisitely conscious of his hand pressing against her.

"Good. If you need to tell me something, whisper." He took his hand away but didn't let go of her arm.

"Should we run?"

He shook his head. "There's no cover. Nowhere to go."

"So, what do we do?" Gretchen fought the panic that churned inside her.

He closed his eyes and sniffed the air. "There's only three of them. Nothing to worry about."

Gretchen gulped. Three armed soldiers were nothing to worry about?

Apparently, they held very different definitions of that phrase.

Chapter Six

Ransom should have heard Fulmer's men coming the moment their vehicle left the camp and started off across the rough terrain of the field. Hell, he should have been preparing for the arrival of this second wave the moment he'd eliminated the first.

Fulmer wouldn't rest until he had confirmation of Gretchen's death. If there was one thing he knew about Fulmer, it was that he was relentless.

Not relentless enough to do his dirty work himself, of course. Whoever was hurtling toward them—three men in an open jeep with a powerful engine—they had no idea how expendable they were to the man in charge.

Which didn't make them any less evil, of course. Ransom had spent eight years watching what went on in the Basement. In all that time, Fulmer only allowed two kinds of people down into his torture chamber—the most vicious and the most vulnerable. But no matter which column they fit into, they met the same fate.

As would these soldiers.

Fulmer had chosen his attack dogs well, finding men who not only wouldn't balk at the nature of the job—but would actually enjoy it. Which made Ransom’s failure all that more galling. The soldiers headed for them had done nothing to camouflage their approach, and yet he'd missed the sound of the engine, the stench of adrenaline, the ugly scent of their blood lust.

And Ransom had almost let them take him by surprise. He'd been distracted, caught up in memories and emotions he hadn't dredged up in years—all of them triggered by the beta woman's soft, complex fragrance, determination, and canniness. Focusing on her had made him so sloppy that he temporarily forgot where he was and what he was doing.

If he hadn't picked up on the danger when he did, that sloppiness could have gotten them killed.

Well, probably not him. After witnessing the deaths of hundreds of his alpha brothers, Ransom knew exactly how much effort it took to kill an alpha. It would require a lot more than the firepower the three soldiers were packing.

But Gretchen? The streaks of red blood marring the fabric covering her knees and elbows were a testament to just how fragile she really was.

This beta woman was turning out to be a hell of a pain in the ass, with her probing questions and stubborn refusal to leave, but she was also the key to telling Ryan's story. She wasn't just his insurance, telling the truth of what happened in case he went down in the process of killing Fulmer—she had the power to get that story in front of the whole country, to ensure that Ryan's name would never be forgotten.

All Ransom had to do was not make another careless mistake.

He braced his arms on the gully's ledge and hoisted himself up, then rolled under the cover of a poplar tree. He spotted the vehicle instantly, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and flattening the tall grass in its path, coming in fast. Ransom's khaki pants and a gray shirt would help serve as camouflage, but he doubted it would be necessary—the soldiers thought they were pursuing a female beta in a yellow skirt and flowery top.

"That thing has gotta