Page 17 of Unhinged Omega

hmm, hmmm, hmmmmmm

then nothing

no more moon

no more song

Chapter

Four

NIKOLAI

"It's not gonna fit, you big oaf!"

"Just push harder!"

The declaration, followed by masculine grunts, has my leather boots halting on the middle of the tarmac. I stare up at the recommissioned hangar on the far end of the shelled-out airport I recently had rebuilt into a proper base after the last one exploded, weighing just how badly I want to know what's going on around the corner.

Fuck it, I've seen worse.

I'm just not sure if I'm relieved when I turn the corner and see the giant alpha and squirrelly beta trying to stuff crates marked with explosive warnings into the already overfilled section of the hangar.

Mikey grunts, his big muscles straining as he tries to wedge a crate on top of a tower that already looks like it's going to topple over as soon as the door opens again, while Reese, his marginally less idiotic beta counterpart, barks instructions while doing shit all himself.

For fuck's sake.

I haven't slept in days, and this is what I come back to? Idiots playing Tetris with enough firepower to level a small country.

Home sweet fucking home.

My eyes burn from exhaustion, but I force them to stay open, scanning the yard. The place is a mess of crates and pallets, munitions of every caliber imaginable scattered like deadly building blocks. It's more than I expected, even with Reinmich's legendary arsenal.

I've been up all hours, shuttling weapons and supplies to my various hideouts across the Outer Reaches. Can't keep it all in one place—that's just asking for trouble. But fuck me if I didn't underestimate just how much shit Reinmich was willing to part with.

Even if it was from its cold, dead hands.

A crash from inside the hangar snaps my attention back to the present. Reese comes stumbling out, tripping over his own feet as he backpedals.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he yelps, his eyes wide with panic.

Mikey's bulk fills the doorway a second later, his meaty hand clamped around Reese's collar as he hauls the smaller man backward. "Run!"

The world slows down as I watch the domino effect unfold. A single crate teeters on the edge of a stack, then topples. It hits the ground with a sickening crack, and suddenly the air is filled with the hiss of fuses.

Fuck.

The first explosion is almost anticlimactic. A dull thump that sends up a small plume of smoke. But it's just the opening act. Within seconds, the entire section of the hangar erupts in a cacophony of bangs, whistles, and thunderous booms.

Rockets screech into the night sky, trailing sparks and smoke. Mortars thump in rapid succession, sending up geysersof dirt and shrapnel. It's like the grand finale of the world's most lethal fireworks display.

And in the middle of it all stand Mikey and Reese, frozen in place like a pair of slack-jawed statues as flaming debris rains down around them.

I don't even realize I've moved until I'm grabbing them both by the scruffs of their necks, hauling them behind the dubious shelter of an overturned truck. We hit the ground hard as another wave of explosions rocks the compound, and then it's over, as anticlimactically as it began.

"Oh, hey boss," Reese says, his voice an octave higher than usual. He gives me a nervous grin, dirt and soot streaking his face. "Uh, at least there's more room now?"

Mikey looks down at my feet and I notice the edge of my coat is on fire. I give the edge of the coat a violent flick that kills the flame and level them both with a glare that could strip paint.

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