Page 57 of Fight or Fly

It was the sound of a cornered omega.

I didn’t think—I just charged inside, grabbing at the edge of the doorway for support when my leg threatened to give out.

“Get away from him,” I growled at the two betas trying to approach the stretcher. When they didn’t respond immediately, I pulled out my gun and pointed it at them. “I said back awaynow!”

They backed away, hands raised. At the same instant, the scent hit me.

Lavender and peppermint. I’d never smelled it before, and yet I felt like I knew it intimately. It was the scent of the carrier-figure I’d never had until I was already a grown man... a scent that saidfamily. And it was pungent with heat markers.

“We think he’s been drugged with sodium thiopental,” said one of the betas, still holding his hands up. “Sloane’s been known to use it to loosen prisoners’ tongues, but he’s reacted badly to it.”

Maybe they couldn’t smell it yet.Fuck—Beckett wasn’t anywhere near due for a heat right now. But he also wasn’t young anymore. He was approaching estropause, and omegas’ systems could get a little crazy as they started to shut down. Could the drug have sent him into an off-cycle heat?

I holstered the gun, since the two men didn’t seem like a threat. “Seriously, just back off. I know him; we’re like family. I’ll try to calm him down and get him outside, but he needs aspecialist, you hear me? A specialist in omega medicine.”

Again, I received that look—like I was a few screws short of a full set.

“Yes, the doctors are waiting outside for him,” said the one on the right.

I nodded and gave them a jerk of my chin that clearly said ‘please fuck off now.’ They fucked off, somewhat to my surprise. When Beckett and I were alone in the cabin, I scooted carefully down the wall into a sitting position with my injured leg held straight out in front of me, so I wouldn’t be looming over him.

“Hey, Boss,” I said quietly. “Sorry I was late.”

God, he looked horrible—like a man who’d seen into the mouth of hell and barely lived to tell the tale. His heat-scent was sour with stress and fear. It wouldn’t have affected me regardless—we might not have been blood-related, but we’d become family long ago. I tried to regulate my emotions into something reassuring, despite the fact that the only thing I could think of worse than placing him in Nikolayev’s hands in the first place, was doing so when he was helpless in heat.

Pale, bloodshot eyes the color of a stormy sea met mine, the barest hint of recognition lighting them. Relief eased the tension in my shoulders.

“There you are, Boss. Come on—aren’t you just dying to read me the riot act for taking so long to come and get you? Flynn and Alex are here, too... in case no one told you yet. They’re getting checked over by the doctors, and you need to do the same.”

I thought I could see a flicker of understanding behind that stormy gaze, but then a commotion outside interrupted. Beckett’s eyes went wild again, and he jerked violently at the velcro cuffs restraining his wrists to the rails of the stretcher.

“Easy now—” I began, only to be cut off by shouts from outside.

“Sir! Sir! You mustn’t go in there yet... there’s an alpha inside—!”

The clang of rapid footsteps on metal decking echoed through the fuselage. An aura of promised violence reached me the instant before Kostya Nikolayev appeared at the far end of the cabin, his hair disheveled and his lips curled back in a wordless snarl.

Every instinct I possessed had me upright in a heartbeat despite the bullet wound in my leg and the weakness in my muscles. In a flash, I was standing protectively in front of Rhys Beckett, drawn up to my full height... my muscles bulging with threat.

“Get. Out,” Nikolayev hissed. His voice didn’t even sound human.

“You child-murderingfucker,” I growled. “Take one more step, and we’ll see if I can rip your head clean off your spine before any of your lackeys can put a bullet through my skull.”

Gray eyes glowing with rage, Nikolayev stalked forward.

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