Page 106 of The Gift
One word, and I’m done.
Henley
You know when you know, you just fucking know. Doubts burn away, leaving you one of those life changing, karmic alignments, and it all comes together in brutal and glorious efficiency. Take right now, I know whoever is the cause of me racing away from where I should be will be dead before the new day rises.
The vegetation is dense and naturally overgrown, each swell and dip of the earth, each outcrop of tree provides places to hide, and yet it was a purposeful and mindful decision the Alliance made keeping it here. One I don’t regret.
From one side of where I look to the other, the landscape hides and provides the perfect backdrop for a hunt. Because seriously, anyone brave enough to go toe to toe with an alpha coming in or going out of time with their omega deserves a fighting chance at survival. Although that chance is pretty much non-existent, let’s be real.
After the realisation of what happened, I pretty much traded personas. Right now, I am nothing but focused on the chase. Every part of the forest vibrates under my foot. My senses are at a fever pitch; I hear better, I see around corners and I can smell false hope rising. One edge of the darkness sings for me, while from the depths of a deeper patch of shadows, the incessant chirping of a cicada has me moving on silent feet in the opposite direction.
The snap of a twig is like a sonic boom before the cicadas’ frequency changes slightly. I purse my lips and reply, a few clicks of my own before taking up position. Almost comically, I pull myself up the low hung branches to sit in the tree and wait.
Initially we were racing for answers as to why the centre’s power was cut, because like Koda told Bailey, the centre was constructed in such a way that the only way to lose power was via a purposeful attack.
During all our planning, and since opening the omega centre, the Alliance had been in that state of anticipation because an attack here at some point was a given considering the treasures we have inside. The team that responded tonight would have received recognition from any general such was their skill, precision, and response times. It became personal when Koda returned with the news that two members of my pack had been shot.
Reno was escorted back inside, the rest of the omega centre employees stayed on full alert in case of another attack, and Koda and I went hunting.
When the distant alarm of the omega centre is replaced by the insistent and urgent siren of an ambulance, part of me relaxes while another part opens, blossoms. The way my omega did, in a sense. But whereas she came to life for us, I do the opposite.
And the stupid fuck who intentionally shot members of my pack is not only sloppy, they’re also brainless. Of all the places to stop, the black clad imbecile waits at the base of my tree like they’re waiting for a Greyhound bus. I nearly drop down, but another twig breaks under foot and not from where I know Koda is already waiting for our prey.
All this is like a cosmic eye roll at the cheesy drama happening right in front of us. But sometimes that’s the fucking way life is, and since it’s in my favour tonight, I give my thanks to whoever is in charge of this shitshow.
I wish I had my phone on me. It would have been good to record the events unfolding, including the arrival of the new player to my tree, although I’m not overly concerned because I know Koda will be all over it. Am I shocked it’s Thomas from Pack Miller? Not in the slightest. This is the level of fuckery that continually occurs in our world. Am I pissed off? You fucking bet I am. The darkness around me takes a red hue as rage coats my vision.
My life mission now includes the heed and heel of Pack Miller. After we have destroyed them in every sense of the word, of course. Whatever they have and were will become a distant memory and a warning to others once both the Alpha Alliance and Pack Bailey are done with them. Unlike Thomas though, we will not play games in the shadows. They will see us coming, and the rest of the country will know my pack had a large hand in their downfall. And it will be spectacular.
The click of the silencer is louder than the drop of the body. I’m not shocked we witness Thomas cleaning up after himself, nor am I surprised when he moves with efficiency, digging through the pockets of the dead person before the person has even finished dying. Barely a second later Thomas is walking away, with a pep in his step and the shooter’s phone in his hand, without a care in the world.
He makes it about a dozen feet before I drop down.
“Surprise mother-fucker,” I sing out, perfectly emulating Samuel L. Jackson’s claim to fame. I wink at the ugly cunt, smirking in absolute pleasure when he squawks like a bitch.
Not only does Thomas comically look like a used asshole in the way his mouth twitches but he also clearly thinks like one. He’s quick though, I’ll give him that. His arm whips around, his finger pulling on the trigger but Koda’s faster, and rams a fist into the back of his head at the same time.
The bullet goes one way, Thomas goes another.
Koda steps next to me and we both look down at him. He’s completely out for the count, off with the fairies. I punt my foot so hard into his stomach, the asshole bends in two, but he doesn’t offer a sound, confirming what we knew. We got ourselves a prisoner.
“How fucking stupid is he?” I ask Koda, stupefied. I’m honestly stunned.
Koda doesn’t answer, his phone at his ear already, and I hear Reno listing off their injuries. My beta barely takes an inhale before he’s explaining what he’s done, what he is going to do, and where to meet him when we’re done.
“I’ll get my car and lock down the suite,” Koda says once he hangs up. His lack of emotions tells me all I need to know. Koda feels as terrified as I do.
“Get her bag.”
“Yeah.”
And as much as I need to know more about Bailey’s injuries, neither of us ask. We also don’t talk about what we’re going to do to every member of Pack Miller, it’s a given. We don’t talk about how this happened, we’re both too detached to do that yet. Instead, we slide into our usual way of debriefing.
“Up for a bet?” I ask him, my fingers poised at the edge of the balaclava that covers the face of our dead shooter.
“Always,” Koda murmurs. His left knee pops as he squats down next to me.
“You need to see your fucking orthopaedic surgeon again, or I’m taking you off active duty.”
