Page 4 of Advocate Omega (Unforeseen Paths #1)

Zander

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“Of course, I’m sure.”

“He was running, wasn’t he?” A third guy.

“Doesn’t smell right.”

“Shut up, Cyan.”

“Don’t use our names! ” A smack.

“What was that for? He’s unconscious. ”

Two heads swivel to gaze at where I’m hog-tied in the damn trunk.

I’d wave, but you know…one needs hands for that.

Instead, I snarl. They taped my mouth as a precaution, which is a smart move.

I’d be shouting at the top of my lungs if not for it.

And not out of anger. That terrifying guy I saw earlier?

He’s driving. Stacked with muscle and hunched over due to his obscene height, he’s got a buzz cut that highlights the scar crawling up the side of his square head.

His passenger up front turns to stare at me, too. He’s…just as scary, in all honesty. With a long, plaited beard and a strange mullet, he looks like an axe murderer in a human slasher film. His eyes are green but glint yellow in the setting sun.

Wait.

Is the sun setting?

Twisting my neck, I look up and out the tinted windows to find unrecognizable trees, a sun well into its descent in the west, and no landmarks of any kind.

Where am I?

Where are they taking me?

I wiggle, try to flex out of my binds, but it’s no use. That’s the shitty thing about being an omega. We lack the brawn that alphas have. I’m agile, fast, and have impeccable balance, but raw strength? Nope.

“What do we do? He’s awake.” In the second row of seats are two young alphas. They’re my age. I recognize that one’s voice as belonging to Cyan. Oddly enough, he has brown eyes and is wearing all black tactical gear. Dude really took this job seriously.

Dirty blonde hair falls into his eyes, and his cheeks are smooth. A little cute mole rests on the right side of his mouth, and he—

No. Not cute.

The smells are unreal in this van. For good measure, I roll my face into the mat beneath me to stifle it.

Breathing in…whatever material this is, I try to formulate a plan.

How am I going to escape? There aren’t any sharp objects lying around to cut these thick ropes.

Not even a rusty nail. I’m not opposed to utilizing my looks if it gets them to untie me.

Would that even work? I’ve only seen it in movies.

Shit.

I flail around a bit so I’m on my stomach, then I shimmy until I’m flush with the trunk door. If I can position myself just right, I might be able to grab the latch and roll right out onto the street. Before I can even try it, alpha number four grabs my ankles and drags me back.

I snarl and curse him from behind the tape, but only muffled grunts escape.

“Have you ever seen an omega this…hostile?” he asks his brethren.

“Silence until we get there,” the driver orders.

“I don’t have to listen to you. I have my own pack, and—” The passenger upfront growls at Cyan, baring his canines.

He backs down immediately.

That’s the thing with young alphas, they all think they’re hot shit until an older wolf puts them in their place. I would laugh if I weren’t so afraid. Which, I am, because I can’t see a way I get out of whatever this is in one piece…

Hours upon hours pass.

I end up watching whatever Alpha Number Four has on his phone. It’s some cooking show. Every so often, he’ll pause the videos and write something down in a notes app.

Speaking of phones, I lift my head and search the trunk for my bag. Wiggling to see if I detect my phone still in my pocket, I huff in defeat when I can’t feel it. They either took it and destroyed it or put it in my bag.

No. They wouldn’t keep my bag.

I’m a prisoner.

I whine loudly, something I haven’t done in ages .

Sorrowful and raw, I let it rip from my lungs only to be silenced by the damn tape.

Fuck these assholes. They deserve to hear me weep at full volume.

Cyan, the douche, turns to look at me. Our eyes lock, and his pheromones waft off him in waves.

I whine again, partly because of his heated gaze but mainly to express myself in the only way I can.

“Shh,” he whispers. “It’ll be okay.”

“Stop. Talking. To. Him.” Alpha Number Two growls.

Cyan reaches his hand over and strokes my face.

I rear back, not liking the cloud of reassurance his touch brings.

Physical touch isn’t something I’m used to anymore—how handsy wolves get.

Not all of it has an underlying meaning; it’s just in our nature to be close.

But I don’t know this dude, and I’m definitely not his kin. None of them gets to touch me.

Unphased by my resistance, he continues to pet me and drag his fingers over my cheek and hair, leaving his scent on me. Is he…well, shit, he could be trying to claim me as his own. Not happening, Cyan, without any blue.

Alpha Number Four sees this finally—having glanced up from his damn cooking show—and shakes his head.

I read his lips as he silently warns, “ That one isn’t for you. ”

It’s that single sentence that rips all of my coping mechanisms from my fingers. Suddenly, snark, morbid humor, and everything else I’ve used to create layers of armor feel as thin as paper.

If I’m not for him , then I’m for someone, and all my worst fears are coming true.

It goes beyond being an omega, beyond being the last Sorrel on the planet, no—I’m going to stop being a some body and start being a some thing.

Tears prick my eyes, so I close them tightly. I don’t bother opening them again for the rest of our drive.

I fell asleep, so when the van stops suddenly, I jerk awake.

So far, I’ve managed to keep my fear at bay, replacing it with a defeated mentality.

But it’s surging back like a rushing current.

Breathing is hard, my heart pounds mercilessly against my ribs.

My eyes are wide and open, watching my captors exit the van.

I try to listen as they talk outside, but I can’t focus.

This can’t be happening. It’s not happening.

Everything starts to tremble. I might piss myself.

Confined, bound, and completely fucked, I hold back the tears rapidly building in my ducts.

I’ll figure something out—I always do. This isn’t the end of the road for me.

I’m not doing this. These psycho people have another thing coming.

Yeah, that’s right. I’ll…shift and run. But I don’t think I can.

It’s been so long. Admitting that sends another fresh wave of fear through me.

No, no, no.

The back door opens, and noise suddenly floods in all around me. Owls hooting, water rushing, leaves rustling, voices—so many fucking voices. I whimper, using my shoulder to try to crawl deeper into the van. Hands grab me, and I scream—my vocal chords strain to push out as much force as I can.

“Easy, easy,” a new voice says to me. The ropes holding me in this unnatural U shape give way. My limbs curl inward to shield myself. “What the hell did you do to him?” he demands, his voice full of bass and authority. “Warren, Uriah!”

“We weren’t sure if he’d try to escape. You said to obtain him with whatever means necessary. This was necessary.”

I burrow deeper into myself, paralyzed.

“How does this,” he pauses, “help us? You traumatized him!”

I whine again. Fuck, it just won’t stop.

Warm skin meets my wrists, and they are guided away from my face.

I blink rapidly, smacked repeatedly with scents I can’t stand.

But soft, kind eyes are looking at me. The tape is carefully removed from my mouth.

He gives off a calming presence much like Gabe’s, and I recognize the person before me.

He’s an omega, like me. “Come here,” he coos.

I go easily.

Omegas are safe.

Instinct drives me, and I crawl out of the van, guided by this stranger’s voice, smell, and vibes.

In a blur, we walk through a small crowd of tall alphas, and the fresh air is welcomed after so long being stuck in a car with those fuckers.

The farther we get from them, the more I snap out of my fear, and I see opportunity.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the omega says, his voice calm. “But don’t.”

Our hands are linked, his thumb purposely and gently stroking the top of mine.

“I have to,” I whisper and rip my hand away.

Not wasting another second, I run. I run hard and fast. Disoriented and completely fucking lost, I go in the opposite direction of where everyone is gathered, directly into thick, dense woods.