Page 16 of Dance Omega Dance

I smiled, looking at the older man he was treating. The man looked late eighties, with a piece of debris sticking out of his abdomen. I sat beside him and held his hand. He looked up at me, biting back tears.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Albert,” he uttered, wincing and squeezing my hand as Blake packaged the debris to stop the bleeding.

I watched him, transfixed, not noticing my own pain. “It’s nice to meet you Albert, but I wish it were under better circumstances.”

He laughed, then winced again.

“Sorry,” I said, smiling.

I glanced over at Blake, who was bandaging around the metal sticking out of Albert’s stomach. The deep crimson blood against the gauze made my stomach turn, but I forced myself to focus.

As if drawn by my thoughts, Blake glanced up from the bandage he was tying. Something unreadable flickered across his face... concern, exasperation, an edge of command.

"I need an extra set of hands."

I hesitated, torn between my instinctive aversion to following alpha orders and the growing compulsion to be useful. Another low groan of pain from Albert, and I asked, “Where do you want me?”

"Hold this." Blake thrust a wad of gauze into my hand and guided it to a jagged gash. The beta, Albert, whimpered, his soot-streaked face straining towards me.

"Press down hard," Blake instructed tersely, already rummaging in his kit for clotting powder. "We need to slow the bleeding."

I swallowed a surge of nausea and did as commanded, using my full weight to stem the flow. Albert yelped, his body arching against the pain, but I held fast. Blake worked at my side, his hands deft and sure as he finished packing the wound.

"Good," he murmured when the bleeding finally slowed to a sullen ooze. His eyes flicked up to mine, a trace of warmth surfacing in their icy depths. "Keep pressure on it."

I nodded, readjusting my grip on the gauze. As Blake turned to call for a stretcher, I looked down at my hands, now stained rust-red with Albert's blood. I flexed my fingers, marveling at the unexpected steadiness of my grip.

For so long, I'd held myself apart, determined to rely on no one but myself. But here, amid unimaginable disaster, I'd found purpose in the simple act of staunching a wound, of holding a hand and following the lead of an alpha who commanded with resolute focus.

I glanced up, my gaze tracking first to Anders, checking the breathing of an unconscious elderly woman with infinite care. Then to Zach, emerging triumphantly from a collapsed storefront with a dust-covered child clinging to his shoulders. These men, these Alphas... they wielded their strength not to control, but to protect others.

Two volunteers walked over and rolled Albert gently onto the stretcher. He grabbed my hand before he was carried away. “You’ve got a good pack, Omega,” he said.

My face reddened. “I, well... they’re not...”

Blake placed his hand on my shoulder. “She does, doesn’t she,” he said, smiling. He patted my shoulder and walked off with Albert on the stretcher.

I frowned as I watched him. Did he just call me a member of his pack?

Looking back at my hands, steady, capable, and streaked with the blood of survival, a small flame of longing flickered in my chest, and I wondered for a moment, what would it be like to be part of their pack?

Chapter Seven

Over the space of a few hours, the screaming began to subside, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. But it wasn’t a relief. More like an unsettling void. I wasn’t sure if the silence meant we were getting things under control or if it was the calm before the storm.

I was so focused on keeping steady pressure on the next patient's wound that I didn't notice the news van until it was nearly upon us. Their logo was emblazoned on the side, an all-seeing eye that glared back at me like an accusation. My breath seized in my lungs, my world narrowing to that single, terrifying image.

They couldn't be here. They couldn't see me. If my face were broadcast across the city, across the country...

The van screeched to a halt at the edge of our makeshift triage area, and three reporters jumped out, wielding microphones and cameras like weapons. They spread out among the wounded with predatory intent, hungry for blood and tears to be splashed across the evening news.

A wave of icy dread crashed over me. "No," I whispered, shrinking back. My hands started to shake, and I stood, the gauze slipping through my fingers. The girl at my feet moaned, but the sound was distant, muffled by the roar of panic rising in my ears.

I had to run. Had to hide, before they saw me, before they captured my face and beamed it out for all the world, and my past, to see. I cast a frantic glance towards the alleywaysand ruined buildings, plotting my escape. I'd have to leave the injured, leave the alphas, but what choice did I have? Survival was and always had been my only option.

"Summer?" Blake's concerned voice cut through my spiraling terror. His brow furrowed as he took in my ashen face, my trembling hands. "What's wrong?"

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