Page 30 of Generation Omega: Revealed
“Then let’s not die, either of us. Let’s be the first to survive against everything coming at you. Let’s change the world and make them pay for everything they did to harm omegas and alphas throughout history.”
His confidence in his place in my life makes me swoon inside and allows me to see what he already believes. The idea of being here, moving toward danger, seeking my alpha, embracing this massive change in my life,withoutEthan… this is all a blackhole without him, and not just because I wouldn’t have made it out of that auditorium without his help.
But it’s so much more than that. Everything that happened yesterday, all our declarations, the way we overcame the fears and doubts that stood between us—all of that built a fierceness in me, a resilience that is part of why I’m not panicking right now. Ethan is my soulmate. I trust the world because he’s in it with me. I’m not me without him. If this legacy is a sentient thing, it knows that and maybe it did choose me because I’m not unprotected in a world where Ethan exists.
I squeeze his hand, or more accurately, I squeeze a beloved tutu-wearing bear decorating an oven mitt with the hand of my lover inside it. “The nest… how could that have been some fluke? I think you are part of why I was chosen for this.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Let’s trust the wisdom of this legacy until it gives us a reason not to.”
I grimace. “Okay, I get that you’re trying to beMr. Bright and Shiny, and I appreciate it, but thiswiselegacy is forcing me to walk into a trap to reach my alpha. Isn’t that a reason to doubt it?”
His expression turns smug. “It would be if the legacy were sending you into a trap alone. But it’s not, and they won’t be expecting me, will they?”
I consider that. “No, I don’t think they will. I don’t think betas are mentioned in the legends at all. Omegaverse fiction loves a handsome, loving beta, but this isn’t fiction. I really wish we could call the professor and ask him, but he’s probably in police custody right now.”
“Let’s just hope he’s too well known to get disappeared. Now, what about your other alpha? Do you know where we need to go to find him after wesaveGideon Blake?”
Oh, I hope it’s Gideon Blake and not some random guy—Ethan will be heartbroken, and maybe I will be too. “I don’t know yet. There isn’t the same pull to find him. All I can focus on is reaching my first alpha. After that, I’m guessing our instincts will tell us what to do next.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
For the rest of the ride, I lean against Ethan, enjoying the simple pleasure of being near him. With us together, it’s hard to comprehend the danger we’re in right now. But maybe Ethan’s right, maybe his presence will be what makes this reveal different. He will never betray me. He’ll always love me. And he will kill for me, even though that’s not what I want for him.
As we reach our stop and leave the bus, that last thought is the one that haunts me. I’m about to make my true love a killer and some part of me is soothed by that. I think I’m catching my first real glimpse of the omega inside me, like she’s a separate entity announcing her presence. One thing is instantly clear—she’s not all dreamy hearts and sweetness. She’s primal and fierce and wants to survive, and the fact that a body count may be required doesn’t trouble her at all.
But it still troubles me. There’s a bridge back to a normal life that’s about to burn and I have no peace with that. I also have no choice, because my alpha is near and his heartbeat is calling to mine. Mine answers…I’m here.
CHAPTER16
GIDEON
Well, shit. It’s not every day that an actor gets to experience in real life a scene he’s performed in a dozen films. But fuck, did it have to be theget drugged, wake up in a dimly lit, sketchy, stanky, filthy room, bound to a metal chair, surrounded by enormous, masked thugsscene? This never goes well in the movies, at least not without blood, bruises, some broken teeth, and lots of dead guys. The gag is a particularly nice touch. I just hope it’s not as unhygienic as the setting for this little meeting.
“What the hell?” I grumble over my gag and then throw out the question I promised myself I’d never ask. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
One of the esteemed members of the burly brute squad scoffs. “We know exactly who you are orwereto be more specific.” He chuckles like the sadistic fucktwit he is, while patting one of his buddies on the back like it’s spring break and they’re about to head to a kegger.
I don’t know whether to be hopeful or insulted that my captors aren’t theAteam or theBteam for that matter. I have a degree in villainy, considering I’ve played them so often, and these guys aren’t top shelf. They’re muscle not brains—not that one can’t be both. I’m not making dangerous assumptions here, but reading the room is crucial in times like these, whether on film or in reality.
I test the strength of the zip tie around my wrists. “So, you’re going to kill me…here?” I glance around at the squalid space that’s defined by the wafting aroma of mold and rat shit.
“Not yet,” another stooge says in a heavy Russian accent, as he approaches from the opening where doors once stood. They are a rotted mess now and cast aside. “Where is the omega?”
So, we’ve got a Russian. Too bad they all can’t be like my favorite stunt coordinator. That dude is the absolute best—though not for my liver—and I’m more thankful than ever for his obsessive attention to detail and insistence that I know my stuff so well it’s instinctual. I’m planning to damage this Russian with everything I learned from another Russian. It’s almost poetic and certainly Sergei approved.
“Which omega?” My eyes do the heavy lifting to convey my shock, annoyance, and general disdain. “There are a thousand wannabe omegas at the convention where you stole me. Pick one. Pick ten. Have fun. Just make sure they’re consenting or you’ll have an omega army on your ass.”
The third member of the team, who’s psychotically playing with the tip of an impressively large knife, while eyeing me like I’m a deer he just shot, chuckles. I shall dub him Mr. Chuckles for his few remaining moments on this earth. “That’s not going to work.” Oh, he’s Irish. Lucky me.
“What?” I mumble, while twisting my hands in the zip tie.
The American leans closer. “It’s too late to bullshit us.” He holds up his hand, revealing red blotches and puffy blisters.
My forehead declares my confusion and, to really sell it, I tilt my head like an inquisitive golden retriever. “What is that?”
“You burned me.” He’s growling now, like a feral dog.
“How?” No, really, how did I burn him? More importantly, can I do it again, possibly by glaring intently or breathing fire like a dragon? Did I miss something in alpha school? Because I never heard anything about superpowers.Please, let me have superpowers—no more green screen and special effects for me.
