Page 24 of Claimed By the Psychos

The big alpha laughs, a sound like grinding stone. "I've got a few knife wounds and a broken nose that beg to differ."

"It's clearly not the first time it's been broken," Juniper grumbles, eyeing his face with professional interest.

Despite everything, the big alpha seems amused. He nods to the golden-haired psychopath, who finally lowers the gun. Juniper immediately flees to my side, and I push her behind me, putting my body between her and the weapons pointed our way.

We're surrounded. No escape routes. No backup plan.

I failed to do the one thing I always told myself I could do better than any alpha.

I failed to protect her.

Chapter

Ten

BANE

Blood and adrenaline paint the air thick as motor oil, but underneath it all lurks something else. Something that makes my alpha instincts sit up and take notice like a guard dog hearing footsteps in the dark. I keep my weapon trained on the two of them while my brain tries to process what the fuck just happened.

The omega—small, delicate, wearing a pink slip that should make her look innocent—just took down Carlisle with moves that would make a Navy SEAL proud. And the alpha, the one calling himself Jonas King, bleeds from gunshot wounds while shielding her with his body like she's the most precious thing in the world.

No mating mark on her throat. I can see that much through the suppressants pumping through this place like chemical fog. But the way they move together, the way he positions himself between her and every threat, speaks to a bond deeper than biology.

"Who are you?" I ask, keeping my voice level despite the chaos ricocheting through my skull. "And who sent you?"

The omega tilts her head, hazel eyes bright with something that might be madness or might be keen intelligence. Hard to tell with the chemical haze clouding everything. "Wouldn'tyoulike to know?"

A laugh rumbles up from my chest before I can stop it. The sheer audacity of this slip of a thing, surrounded by four armed alphas, still throwing attitude like she's got the upper hand. "I would, actually. And we'll get the answers." I shift my weight, feeling Elias and Archer flanking me while Carlisle slumps against the wall, still fighting off whatever cocktail she dosed him with. "I'd just rather do it the pleasant way."

The alpha growls low in his throat. The sound vibrates through the room like a warning, and something primal in my chest answers it. This one's going to be trouble. Smart, trained, and desperate enough to take on four military operators to protect his omega.

We should put him down. Clean, professional, no loose ends. But there's something about the omega that has my alpha sitting up and paying attention despite the suppressants. I can see it affecting the others too—Elias's usually steady hands have the faintest tremor, Archer's breathing has gone shallow, and even Carlisle's drugged gaze keeps drifting to her like she's a magnet pulling at metal.

Need to get her out of here. Fast. Before whatever's happening in my chest gets worse.

But one look at the way she's pressed against the lithe alpha's back tells me she's not going anywhere without him. The possessive part of me that wants to rip him away from her wars with the tactical part that knows we need both of them alive for answers.

"Look," I start, lowering my weapon just enough to seem less threatening. "We're not the bad guys here. Whatever you think you know about us?—"

The alpha collapses.

One second he's standing guard over his omega, the next his knees are hitting the expensive carpet like a sack of concrete and he slumps forward onto his side. Blood pools beneath him, dark and spreading fast.

"Felix!" The omega drops to her knees beside him, and the sound that tears from her throat hits me like a sucker punch. Pure devastation. Terror so raw it makes my teeth ache.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I've always felt compassion for the omegas we rescue. It's part of what drove me out of a far more legitimate career where I couldn't do enough to help, and the motivation that keeps me going on one suicide mission after another. But this… this is something else. Something dangerous.

Elias moves forward on instinct, medical training overriding everything else, but the omega whips around with a snarl that would make a rabid dog proud.

"Don't touch him!"

Her words come out half-feral, backed by enough venom to stop Elias dead in his tracks. Her small hands are pressed against Felix's chest, and I can see them shaking.

"I'm a doctor," Elias says carefully, his voice dropping into that calm tone he uses with trauma victims. "I can help him."

The omega's wide eyes dart between Felix's pale face and Elias, suspicion and desperation warring in her expression. "From the looks of those wounds," Elias continues, already pulling supplies from the small med kit he keeps stowed under his jacket, "he doesn't have long without treatment."