Page 47 of Knot Their Soldier: Part Three

"And if I’m good, Alpha?"

My hand tightens over hers.

"If you’re a good Omega, I’ll knot you the moment I have you somewhere safe." My voice drops lower, rough with filthy promises I don’t have time to make. "I’ll pin you down, fill that tight little pussy, and make sure you're properly rewarded for following orders from your Prime Alpha."

Her pupils blow wide, and her thighs press together.

"So be good for me, yeah?"

I hold her gaze, let the promise settle deep, and hope it’s enough incentive to keep her from acting recklessly.

"Yes, sir."

Chapter Twelve

Blaise

The mission worked exactly the way Shade said it would, which is annoying because he’ll be quietly smug about it later. Then there’s Halley, my sweet, terrifying Omega, who handled her part beautifully.

One minute, I was driving my fist into a Human’s face until his cheek caved under my knuckles, and the next, my beautiful mate was using the strongest Omega Command she had ever managed. She put everything into it, every lesson we drilled into her during training.

She held on to Shade and Knox tightly, using them as a stabilizing force, and spoke the words with clarity and conviction.

"Call a retreat and do not return."

Simple, clear, and bossy in a way I’d love to appreciate later with her on her back in her nest.

There was no nosebleed this time. She didn’t crumble into O-Space or sway on her feet. She took the power, used it, and stayed standing afterward, which made my Alpha rumble with pride.

Now the Unit Leader scrambles into the undergrowth, shouting retreat orders into his radio.

My finger twitches on the trigger.

Fleeing prey always makes me want to chase. I wrinkle my nose and lower my rifle before I accidentally ruin our lovely little victory by putting a bullet in the man Halley just Commanded.

The clearing is scattered with the mutilated bodies of the Human leadership. It stinks like piss, fear, and gore. When our truck skidded in, Pack Scorch burst from it ready to fight. I’ve never seen my brothers so vicious, and honestly, it makes me feel closer to them.

Like me, they have a lot of ugly feelings to burn through. After all, we're war-mongrels. We don't process our feelings by talking. We deal with them by killing.

Even after the fight, adrenaline is still raging through my veins. My pulse pounds, and my fingers twitch on the grip. I’m not done burning off the vortex of tangled emotions inside me. I want to kill and draw blood for hours. Maybe then the persistent ache in my chest will ease.

Halley is alive, Viper is back, and the Pack is whole.

The grief doesn’t care.

It lingers, nasty and stubborn, under my ribs, only easing when I put a bullet in an enemy, break bones, or open Human skin.

I kick the nearest corpse twice.

The satisfaction doesn’t come.

"Useless," I mutter. "The least you could do is scream in terror a little."

"Cut it out, Blaze," Knox says, though his eyes are still glowing red with his own repressed killing intent.

If it were just us, the old Scorch Squad, I'd politely suggest that we head back into the fray and crush a few more skulls. We could really work out our frustrations on the retreating and unsuspecting Humans.

But we ain't Scorch Squad anymore.