Page 44 of Claimed By the Psychos

But even as I move through the warehouse, painting the walls with arterial spray and turning guards into corpses, my mind keeps drifting back to the compound. To her. The way she looked at me in the helicopter, like she could see straight through my carefully constructed mask to the monster underneath. The way she moved when she fought, grace and chaos wrapped in silken skin.

I've killed hundreds of people. Maybe more—I stopped counting after the first fifty because numbers lose meaning after a while. But I've never met anyone who made me feel... curious. Interested. Alive in a way that has nothing to do with ending lives.

"Southeast corner clear," I report, stepping over a body that's still twitching. "Moving to the holding area."

The cages are exactly where intel said they'd be. Twelve omegas in various states of trauma, and the sight should make me feel the usual normal things. Anger. Disgust. Revulsion.

But all I can think about is whether Juniper was in a place like this once. Whether that's why she flinches whenever anyonebut Felix gets too close. Why those hazel eyes immediately identify an exit every time she enters a room.

"Doc, you're up," Bane says, and Elias moves in to start assessing the victims.

I hang back, ostensibly keeping watch but really just going through the motions. My phone buzzes in my pocket—the special one connected to the compound's security system. I pull it out, expecting to see Juniper curled up next to Felix in the medical bay like she has been for the past three days.

The bed is empty.

My blood turns to ice water in my veins. I flip through the other cameras quickly, searching for them. The common area—empty. The kitchen—empty. The hallway—two unconscious guards.

"Fuck," I breathe, and everyone turns to look at me.

Before I can say anything, Bane's radio crackles to life. "Base to Psychos, we have a situation."

Bane's expression darkens as he keys the mic. "Report."

"There's been a breach. The targets have escaped. Two guards down, no fatalities. They're in the wind."

The silence that follows is deafening. Even the rescued omegas seem to sense the shift in energy, pressing deeper into their cages. Bane's scarred face cycles through about fifty different emotions before settling on cold fury.

"Copy that," he says, voice deadly calm. "We're RTB in twenty. Lock down the perimeter and start tracking protocols."

He ends the transmission and turns to look at me. I can't help the smirk that spreads across my face, even though there's no real satisfaction in being right. Not when she's out there in the mountains, in the dark, with god knows what kind of predators both human and animal.

"I fucking told you so," I say, but the words come out hollow.

Because here's the thing about me.

I don't feel fear.

Haven't since I was seven and my father taught me that fear was just another weakness to be exploited. I've faced down entire cartels without my pulse elevating. I've been tortured, shot, stabbed, and once someone tried to set me on fire, and through it all I felt nothing but mild annoyance.

But right now, thinking about Juniper and Felix alone in those mountains, injured and hunted?

My chest constricts in a way that has nothing to do with the tactical vest. My hands actually shake as I sheath my knives. The classical music still playing in my left ear sounds discordant now, like the orchestra is falling apart.

"We need to move," I hear myself say, and my voice sounds strange. Tight. "The temperature drops to near freezing at night. They're not dressed for it."

Archer's already moving toward the exit. "I'll prep the bird."

"What about the victims?" Elias asks, ever the humanitarian.

"Call in the backup team," Bane orders. "They can handle the extraction. We're going after our targets."

Our targets.

Such a clinical term for the woman who makes my dead heart remember it exists and the alpha I should loathe more than any other for possessinghers, but can't bring myself to for some reason.

Curiouser and curiouser.

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