Page 9 of Daisy (Omega Chosen #3)

"Now I just want to protect what's mine." I turn to face him, taking in the gentle curve of his mouth, the way his curls catch the kitchen light. "You changed everything for me, August. Before you, I thought violence was the only language I spoke fluently. But with you..."

"What?"

"With you, I learned there's something worth building instead of just destroying."

August's smile could power the city grid. "So when we go to the Omega House tonight?—"

"We're not going to destroy anything," I promise. "We're going to protect. There's a difference."

"I know there is." He crosses to me, goes up on his toes to press a soft kiss to my lips. "That's why I asked you to come with me."

The kiss tastes like hope and pasta sauce and the kind of trust I never thought I deserved. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his.

"Ready to save some omegas?" I ask.

"Ready," he says.

But as we gather our things and head toward the door, I can't shake the feeling that we're walking into something bigger than either of us anticipated. That the past I thought I'd left behind is about to collide with the future I'm trying to build.

The thing about teeth is they leave marks when they bite down.

I just hope August and I are strong enough to survive whatever scars tonight leaves behind.

The Omega House rises ahead of us like a fortress, all white stone and iron gates designed to look elegant while keeping the world at bay. We've found a spot across the street with good sight lines, tucked behind a parked van where we're less likely to be noticed.

But we're not the only ones watching.

"Jesus Christ," I breathe, taking in the scene before us.

The front of the facility is chaos. At least thirty alphas crowd the main gates, pressing against the iron bars like animals in a cage.

Their voices rise in an angry chorus—demands, threats, the kind of mob mentality that turns rational people into something dangerous.

Security guards are stationed behind the gates, hands on weapons, clearly outnumbered but holding their ground.

August is tense beside me, his beta senses clearly picking up on something I can't detect yet. But I trust his instincts completely. If he says something's wrong, then something's wrong.

"There," he breathes, pointing toward shadowy figures moving along the facility's side wall. "Do you see?—"

I see them. Two, maybe three alphas, moving with the predatory grace of people who know how to stay hidden. While the crowd creates a distraction at the front, these ones are going for the back entrance. Even from a distance, I can read the violence in their posture.

"Fuck," I mutter. "Classic pincer move. Distraction at the front, real attack from behind."

The crowd at the gates grows louder, more aggressive. Someone throws a bottle that shatters against the stone wall. The guards shift nervously, calling for backup through their radios.

"We have to stop them," August says, already starting to stand.

I grab his arm, pulling him back down. "We have to be smart about this."

But even as I say it, I'm calculating angles and distances, muscle memory from a thousand fights kicking in. The alphas at the back will be armed, probably high on adrenaline and whatever substances they've taken to work up the courage. The crowd at the front is a powder keg waiting to explode.

This is going to get ugly fast.

"Cass," August's voice is soft but urgent. "Look."

I follow his gaze and see more figures emerging from the alley beside the building. Not guards—these move wrong, too aggressive, too coordinated. They're joining the group at the back entrance.

"Five of them now," I count grimly. "Maybe more."

That's when we hear it.

The explosion comes from the back of the building, a deep BOOM that shakes the ground beneath our feet and sends car alarms screaming into the night. Orange light flickers against the sky—fire, or at least smoke.

The crowd at the front erupts into chaos. Some alphas cheer, others push harder against the gates. The security guards are shouting into their radios, torn between the mob in front of them and whatever the hell just happened behind them.

"Now we move," I tell August, decision made.

We cross the street quickly, using shadows and parked cars for cover. My heart pounds with familiar pre-fight adrenaline, but it's different this time. Cleaner. I'm not fighting for money or survival or the simple need to hurt something.

I'm fighting to protect the people I care about.

The sound reaches us as we get closer—screaming from inside the building, the crackle of flames, and underneath it all, the terrified cries of omegas who have nowhere to run.

Smoke pours from what looks like a service entrance at the back of the building.

The explosion has blown a hole clean through the wall, chunks of white stone scattered across the ground like broken teeth.

Through the gaping breach I can see figures moving inside—alphas who've breached the facility, heading deeper into the building where the omegas are housed.

"The guards are all at the front," August realizes, his voice tight with horror. "There's no one back here to stop them."

He's right. The distraction worked perfectly. While security focused on the mob at the gates, the real attack came from behind. And now there are armed alphas inside a building full of defenseless omegas.

The adrenaline crash hits me immediately, but underneath it I can feel August's steady presence through our bond—not fear, exactly, but intense focus and the quiet strength that's gotten us both through the past year.

He's watching everything, cataloging details the way he does with his research, and his calm helps settle the wild thing in my chest that wants to charge in swinging.

"We need help," August says, pulling out his phone. "Police, fire department?—"

"They'll be too late," I interrupt, watching another figure disappear through the smoking doorway. "Those omegas don't have ten minutes for emergency services to arrive."

I turn to August, my hands finding his shoulders. "Go."

"What?" His hazel-green eyes widen. "No, I'm not leaving you."

"Listen to me." I grip him tighter, trying to pour all my certainty into my voice. "Go to the next street over and wait for me there. Stay away from this building."

"Absolutely not." His scent shifts, bergamot sharpening with distress. "We're pack. We do this together."

"We are pack, which is exactly why you need to be my anchor point." I frame his face with my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. "If something goes wrong in there, I need to know you're safe. I need somewhere to come back to."

Sirens wail in the distance, someone must have called already. But as we stand there in the shadow of the burning Omega House, watching smoke pour from the breach and hearing the chaos from inside, I know we can't wait.

August's jaw works, every instinct fighting against leaving me. But he's smart enough to understand the logic, even if he hates it.

"Two blocks east," he says finally, voice tight. "The coffee shop on the corner. If you're not out in fifteen minutes?—"

"I will be."

"Promise me."

I press my forehead to his, breathing in his scent. "I promise. Now go."

He kisses me hard, quick and desperate, then turns and runs. I watch until he disappears around the corner before turning back to the Omega House.

The past has teeth, and tonight it's decided to bite down hard on the most vulnerable people in the city.

But maybe, just maybe, I can bite back before it's too late.