to hunting down blood and meat. It was a bit disturbing to think of it in those terms, and it was the very thing that made frightened omegas want to run farther and faster, which was why tracker teams also included prey. The prey-type trackers had to either be gifted in running, like deer and horses, or small and nimble enough to cling to their predator-partner’s backs. So a squirrel might make a good partner, but a rabbit probably wouldn’t.
The shirt was a goner, for sure. Anywhere else, it might look forward to a short future as a garage rag. Here, it would be tossed in the trash as soon as the omega was found. The pants seemed to have survived, though.
The wind and rain stirred up all kinds of scents that assaulted my nose, so I had to press the cloth into my face to capture the young man’s scent. Instinctive information flooded my brain. Omega, which I had assumed, given where we were. Young, but not as young as I’d thought. Fear.
And mate.
I dropped the clothing to the wet floor and turned, my sense of the young omega’s path so strong I could almost see it as a line into the dark. He wasn’t just any omega… he was my omega.
He was alone.
He was scared.
My radio squawked. “Rob and Chris are en route to your location, Jordan. Copy?”
I awkwardly shucked off the rain jacket as I shifted. I couldn’t wait for the trackers. My omega needed me. He needed me now.
“Jordan, do you copy?”
The lightning flashed again, thunder trailing by a second. The storm was moving away, hopefully. But as long as it continued, the omega wouldn’t stop running.
As I struggled to control my shift, my clothing fell in a trail behind me. Fur prickled over my back, not yet thick enough to protect my skin from the rain, itching as it strained to grow. I tumbled to the ground, attempting to kick off my boots. Finally, clad only in underwear and socks, I let my bear take over and loped into the night.
5
Wyatt
I ran blindly with no thought to a destination as long as it was away from the alpha, yet at the same time… feeling like I should run back to him? Thunder continued to rumble and roll and crack, almost as if it were following me.
Dodging tree trunks, I ducked under pine branches. I should have been scenting resin, pine needles, maple and oak leaves, rain and dirt, but the scent of the alpha lingered in my nose, confusing me. He smelled like danger, but also home. What did that mean?
I slowed down as the question took over my base instincts. Why did I feel that way?
And then I ran into a scent wall that completely scrambled my brain. The danger sense I’d felt at the first whiff of alpha back at the administration building multiplied by ten. Maybe one hundred. Alphas, multiple, of all kinds. Predators. Wolf, bear, cat, fox—and others I couldn’t recognize.
I stumbled across the scent barrier, my feet scrabbling for purchase, stirring up the scent-infused ground.
Get away, get away!
Why the scent was there, who had left it, those weren’t questions for my brain right now. All I knew was if who and what was responsible found me, I was a dead dog. If I was lucky.
“Say it!”
I whimpered as I ran. I couldn’t say anything without a human mouth.
“You wish you were a wolf. You’re nothing but a pathetic dog, Wyatt. Say it!”
A keening sound filled my ears. I no longer saw the forest before me.
I was surrounded by gray walls. The only furniture in the room was a full-sized bed, the mattress thin and old, the springs beating bruises into my back when I was—
No, don’t think of that. Think of anything but that.
I cowered in the corner as a leather boot swung at me.
I jumped to the side to avoid the boot, but slammed into a tree instead.
The boot is in the past, Wyatt. It’s not real.
Uriel Stanislav grabbed a fistful of fur and flesh and hauled me into the air, smiling maliciously at my yelps of pain. “This is your reality, dog. Little Wyatt, the prince of the homeland, my ass. You’re just as worthless as any omega. Good for one thing and one thing only. And you’re not even any good at that.”
He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. I’d heard the shot. I saw the blood on Artem’s shoes. Uriel was gone. They said