Page 2 of Omega's Heart

Turner scurried off and Kaden spent the time waiting straining his ears until he nearly triggered a shape change. And while he could run faster on four legs, front paws weren’t going to be nearly as useful as hands for the next few minutes.

Chill, wolf.

A scuff of feet in the dust made him twitch, but it was just the rest of them coming to crouch in the hot sun with him.

“So what do we do?” Sanchez’s eyes flickered back and forth, watching for movement around them. The random shooting had stopped, which meant the clock was ticking down on them and the shooters were probably on the move.

“Cover me. I’ll go get Polinski, drag him back here. Then we run.”

Sanchez nodded. “Just tell me where to shoot.”

“Anywhere but my ass,” Kaden said dryly, and Sanchez grinned.

“Gotcha.”

Kaden secured his rifle and got into place while the rest of them spread out. A strange stillness settled over them. It couldn’t have been any more than ten minutes since the shooting had started, though it felt like forever. He sent a silent prayer to Lysoon, guardian wolf, and gave the signal.

Shots rang out behind him and he bolted, head down, weight forward until he could throw himself to the ground beside Polinski.

“Salma,” the soldier sputtered, but Kaden didn’t wait for him to spit out whatever else he wanted to say. He grabbed Polinski by an arm and a leg, hoisted him up over his shoulders, and started to run back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Honisloonz stretched out on the dry ground, bleeding his life out. An ear twitched and he caught the big rufous wolf’s eye. Shit, he’s still alive.

Kaden ran.

Back with the others, and with the rest of the squad now hunkered down with them, he dumped Polinski on the ground and started to turn back.

“Where the hell are you going?” Sarge demanded. “We’re getting out.”

“Honisloonz,” Kaden said briefly.

“He’s dead—” Sarge began.

“He’s not. We don’t leave our brothers behind, right?” It had been one of the first things he’d been told when he joined. “Rest of you go. Something’s not right here. I think it’s a trap. I think they’re planning to take us out.”

“If it’s a trap, we’re fucked. We don’t know what they’ve got set up.”

“Go west and north, circle behind them.” The winds were confusing but when he’d gone for Polinski he’d caught a breeze that hinted at a clear line of retreat in that direction. “Come up behind and shoot the fuckers. I’ll follow with Honisloonz when I can.”

“Shee-it.” Sarge readied his weapon and got into position to provide covering fire. “Go get him.”

Kaden nodded and headed back, the bullets ringing out above his head. There was no return fire.

Lysoon. No return fire.

He ran like he was being chased by the zcerneb, like his tail was on fire. Like anti-personnel missiles were aimed straight at his head.

Because they probably were.

It was a missile that got him in the end. Sort of. He never even made it to Honisloonz before he heard the whoompf of the grenade launcher and then the ground exploded beside him. Instinct made him twist away from the shockwave and raise his left hand to protect his face. He barely had time to notice the pain when something small and sharp peppered his entire left side before the world turned from dusty beige to red and white and then, thankfully, black.

C H A P T E R 2

“F elix!” my mother called from the kitchen. “Can you come get the big pot down off the shelf for me?”

“Be right there,” I called back. I was going through my grandbearer’s book of recipes, looking for something to make for full moon this May even though it was still three months away. I wanted something easy and quick, in case my sister Synthi went into labor on full moon night—the grannies all thought that was about when we could expect to see my new niece or nephew. I stuck a slip of paper in the old scribbler and closed it, careful to tuck the loose pages back inside. Maybe for Midwinter this year I’d ask for a new notebook or a binder to copy them all into so I didn’t have to worry about wear and tear on Grandpap’s old book, but for now, all I could do was take extra special care of it.

I put it on the shelf above my bed, inside the carved wooden box that my alpha sister Norina had made for me for Midwinter last year, and wiggled down the mattress until I could get my feet on the floor. My room was small, but that was only to be expected. I was an omega too old for mating and not likely to ever be more than Uncle Felix, who lived in the little room off the back of the house and made mittens for all the pups in the family. After all, who wanted to mate an omega who was at least an inch taller than most of the alphas in the pack and was built like one too? The omegas who got all the attention were shorter, leaner, not built like ‘a brick shithouse’, as my oldest brother had made the mistake of saying in my hearing. Once. I’d beaten him up for it, already close to his size despite the five years between us in age. He’d never said it again, but the words had never stopped stinging.

When I stood up, the top of my head brushed the ceiling of my bedroom and I had to duck to get through the door. It was a bit better in the rest of the house, but my bedroom had been added onto the first floor of the house when Synthi had grown old enough for courting and needed her own space, and the ceiling wasn’t quite as high as the original structure. But I was grateful to have my own bedroom —I knew families that made the omegas sleep in with their parents once they got to that fertile age.