Page 47 of Claimed By the Psychos

And yet… he's not attacking me, either.

"Where is Felix?" Bane asks, his voice gentle. It seems to take him great effort, considering he usually sounds like he chews gravel like bubblegum. He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over my shoulder, and it's all I can do not to collapse from the weight of it, and the impossibly comforting scent of woods that wraps around me along with it.

I try to answer but all that comes out is a whimper. The heat is getting worse, the pheromone weapons having done their job too well. I can barely think past the need clawing at my insides, but I point in the direction they took him.

"Get her out of here," Bane barks at Archer. "I'll find Felix."

Archer scoops me up like I weigh nothing, and his scent, pure sunshine and citrus, makes my omega instincts purr even as myrational mind screams. This is wrong, all wrong, but my body doesn't care about wrong anymore.

"It's okay," Archer murmurs, though nothing about this is okay. "We've got you. You're safe now."

Safe.

What a funny word. Like safety exists in a world where people can force your body to betray you with chemicals.

"Felix," I manage to gasp out. "He's... he's not..."

But the words won't come, lost in the fire consuming me from the inside out. All I can do is hold on as Archer carries me through the forest, away from the bodies, away from Felix, away from everything I thought I knew.

The shadows follow, whispering truths I'm not ready to hear.

Two little omegas playing at being predators. But even predators can become prey.

The last thing I see before the heat drags me under completely is Bane disappearing into the trees, hunting for Felix.

And here I am, hoping he finds him.

Chapter

Twenty

ELIAS

The forest is a symphony of death tonight, and Carlisle conducts it like he was born with a fucking baton. I watch him slice through another soldier's throat with the kind of skill that would make surgeons weep with envy, his movements so fluid they're almost beautiful if you can ignore the arterial spray painting the snow crimson.

"That's seven," he announces cheerfully, wiping his blade on the dead man's tactical vest. "Though I'm starting to think these aren't the A-team. More like the remedial class."

I put a bullet through another soldier's skull before he can radio for backup, the suppressor turning what should be thunder into a whisper. "They're plenty skilled. Just not skilled enough."

"Boring," Carlisle sighs, stepping over the body like it's a particularly uninteresting piece of furniture. "I was hoping for a challenge."

The woods are crawling with these fuckers. We discovered them along the perimeter when we found the bodies of several of our search party. Three good men, all of whom had families. Not looking forward to those visits.

At first, I assumed they had come for Juniper and Felix. Perhaps as backup. The timing seems a bit too coincidental, and yet, I can't shake the feeling they're in danger. Something isn't right here.

The thought of Juniper being chased by these animals makes something primitive and violent wake up in my chest. But I push it down, lock it away with all the other emotions I can't afford right now. Compartmentalization is my superpower, the thing that lets me save lives with hands that have taken so many.

We move through the trees like we're on a training exercise, covering each other's blind spots, communicating in gestures and glances. Years of working together have made us into a well-oiled machine, even if one of the gears is a certified psychopath who probably jerks off to crime scene photos.

That's when I smell it.

Blood. But not just any blood—omega blood, rich with pheromones and something else, something that makes my alpha instincts take notice like a dog hearing its name called from miles away. My nostrils flare involuntarily, trying to capture more of that scent, to understand why it's making my pulse quicken.

"You smell that?" I ask Carlisle, keeping my voice clinical.

He tilts his head, inhaling deeply. "Another omega? Interesting. That's not our little hellcat."

No, it's not Juniper. I know her scent intimately now—sweet flowers and wildness. This is different. Sharper. Like winter mornings when the cold cuts through everything, mixed with something crystalline and pure. It's omega, definitely omega, but how is that possible?