Page 105 of Unhinged Omega

It looks… painful.

So does his face. The iron mask that haunted my nightmares for so long sits broken, revealing glimpses of the man beneath. He's mangled to the point of having more scars than unmarked skin, but the structure is there. A strong jaw. Cheekbones. A straight nose. He'd be handsome if it weren't for his lips andcheeks being torn away, exposing his razor-sharp teeth, muscle, and jawbone in a terrifying grin.

His messy, bloodied white hair is long enough to cover most of the damage, and if I don't pay attention to his spine, he looks like a normal alpha. Just insanely tall and muscular. The rods and plating that were blown off have bared a steel reinforced spine that resembles the exoskeletons I've seen spec-ops soldiers wearing.

Only his doesn't come off.

He still scares the shit out of me, sure. But his movements lack the predatory menace of my dreams. The closer he is to me, the slower he moves. Like he's deliberately trying not to scare me more than his presence already does.

I find myself wondering, and not for the first time, what kind of monster would do this to another living being?

What purpose could such cruelty possibly serve?

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.

Shelter first.

Existential questions later.

Once we've gathered enough materials, I start constructing a simple lean-to against the trunk of the oak. My mother's voice guides me, memories of long-ago lessons floating to the surface about building on high ground to avoid flooding.

I position the shelter carefully, angling it to protect us from the wind. The Knight watches me work, occasionally handing me branches when I reach for them. It's an oddly domestic scene, considering the circumstances.

"This will keep us dry if it rains," I explain as I work, more for my own benefit than his. "And it'll block some of the wind. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

He makes a low rumbling sound in his chest that I choose to interpret as agreement.

As I finish securing the last of the branches, I step back to survey our handiwork. It's not pretty, but it should hold. At least for a night or two. Long enough for us to...

To what?

What exactly is my plan here?

I glance at the Knight, who's staring at the shelter with an unreadable expression. What am I supposed to do with him? I can't exactly waltz back into civilization with an eight-foot-tall killing machine in tow.

But I also can't leave him here to die.

Which is fucking ridiculous, considering how many years I've spent living in terror just at theideaof him finding me. How many nights Azarel spent holding me against his chest as I sobbed and shook, traumatized by yet another nightmare as he promised to protect me even though I was pretty sure he thought I was nuts and was just humoring me.

But it isn't the Knight's fault he's a monster.

The shelter is crude, but it'll have to do. I eye our handiwork critically, already cataloging improvements we can make if we end up staying here longer than a night or two. Which is looking increasingly likely, given the Knight's condition. He may be a hulking mass of metal and muscle, but even he has limits. The low rattling growl in his chest when he breathes concerns me more than I care to admit.

But shelter is only the first step. We need food, and soon. My stomach clenches painfully, reminding me that it's been far too long since I've eaten anything substantial. The "food" Nikolai's lackeys brought me in that godforsaken tower feels like a lifetime ago.

I turn to the Knight, who's still watching me with that unnervingly intense gaze. "We need to find food," I say, gesturing to my stomach. "Food. Eat. You understand?"

He just stares at me.

Again.

Zero indication whether he understands or not.

I sigh, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Right. Well, let's see what we can find."

I walk down the slope, scanning the surrounding area and looking for anything edible. Most of the vegetation is dead or dying, victims of the harsh climate and lingering radiation.

The Knight is a constant silent shadow at my side. His presence is still unnerving, but I'm starting to get used to it. Like having an oversized, mutated guard dog.

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