Page 20 of Omega Hunted

Yet.

Either way, a few minutes later I found myself standing in front of the door, one hand on the lock and my makeshift weapon on the floor beside me. I stayed there listening for a while, because old habits don’t disappear, and then I finally turned the lock and opened it, picking up the lamp.

Chapter Eight

CASSIAN

I was about done with Brec’s evasive answers. I’d called him every hour so far, and each second of him telling me he didn’t know where Ronan was, or denying he knew what was going on, made my anger worse. Brec and Ronan had stood beside me after Raff died while I screamed myself hoarse and tried to follow my mate into death because surviving the bondbreak felt wrong down to the marrow of my bones. They’d sat with me through the worst nights when my wolf had gone feral with grief and promised none of us were walking away from each other.

They’d seen me break but somehow survive and understood when I walked away.

And now I got the feeling they were keeping me out of the loop.

“Brec,” I said again, low and dangerous now.

Another silence, then, quieter, “I’m sure there was no other choice.” Brec sounded exhausted, all the patience stripped from his voice.

I pulled the refrigerator open with my free hand. Eggs. Half a block of cheddar. The remains of a roast chicken from two days ago, steak, as I tried to process. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” A pause. “I haven’t talked to Ronan in forever, but you know him, and he must have had his reasons to send the omega to you,” Brec added.

“I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere, Brec.” I put the chicken on the counter and looked at it, then the steak. The omega had eaten almost nothing last night—a few crackers, half a glass of water—my wolf didn’t like that. Hell, I didn’t like that. “I’m not a safe house or a refuge for the fucking needy. I’ve got enough going on without some omega who—” I stopped to calm down. “Shit, I can barely keep myself alive half the fucking time. I don’t need another person dying on my watch.” I shoved a pan across the stovetop hard enough that oil splashed over my hand. “I’m not playing caretaker.”

The words turned sour in my mouth.

The omega hadn’t asked for any of this.

None of this was his fault.

But grief and rage had hollowed me out years ago, and some days it felt like all that was left inside me was anger sharp enough to cut everyone standing too close. What did anyone expect me to do with a liability like a pregnant omega? I was grieving; I was empty.

I set the pan down harder than I meant to. “I’ve got one job to do before I end it all, and it isn’t this.” The anger was running too hot now, burning through what little control I had left.

“Don’t say shit like that!”

“Bonded pairs don’t survive one of them dying,” I snapped again, all my patience gone.

“I know, but⁠—”

“We’re snowed in now, but fuck, when can I expect some alpha to show up here and challenge me over a baby? Because I’m not fucking doing this, Brec. I’m not a Haven safe house yet, and I’m not getting dragged into this because Ronan lost his damn mind.” I shoved the pan sideways across the stovetop hard enough that metal screeched.

“He must have⁠—”

“You think I don’t know how this goes? Precious as fuck, pregnant omega, whose name I don’t even know, turns up alone, some possessive alpha comes looking for what’s his, and suddenly I’ve got a fucking war at my front door.” My wolf snarled hard at that, furious at the implication that another alpha could touch the omega. And what the fuck was that all about? “I buried my mate,” I snapped. “I’m not burying somebody else’s omega and kid because Ronan decided I should play protector again and left me with this mess in my house and a pregnant liability wearing my dead mate’s clothes!”

The floorboard outside the kitchen creaked.

Every instinct in me snapped tight.

I turned too fast and found the omega standing half-hidden in the doorway, wrapped in one of my blankets, pale enough that he looked sick. His silver hair tangled from sleep, his pale green eyes wide, one hand braced under the curve of his stomach as he protected the baby even now.

And he’d heard enough.

Liability.

Pregnant omega.

Ronan’s mess.