Page 170 of Unhinged Omega

"No shit." I eye the metal talons warily. Even with my enhanced healing, those would do some serious damage. "Maybe warn a guy next time?"

The Knight just studies me. Another growl builds in his chest, but Cosima murmurs something too soft for me to catch. The sound cuts off again.

It would be impressive if it wasn't so fucking terrifying.

"We need to get him looked at," Cosima says, turning those violet eyes on me. "His wounds aren't healing properly."

I bark out a harsh laugh. "What makes you think I have anyone qualified to work on... whatever the hell he is?"

A mutated victim of medical torture,the annoying little angel on my shoulder whispers in my ear. Meanwhile, the devil on the other shoulder is chanting,Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!

"Because you'reGeo," she replies smoothly. "You have everything."

Fuck. She's good.

I study the Knight more closely now that he's not actively trying to slice my damn face off. Seems Nikolai isn't the only alpha that wants our appearances to match.

It's... unsettling how still he can be. Like a statue carved from marble and steel. His breathing is so shallow I can barely detect it.

"Can you understand me?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral. No point antagonizing him further.

Those blue eyes burn straight through me.

Was I just imagining things? Is henotcapable of thought?

But then he gives a single, stiff, slow nod.

Progress.

"Good. I'm going to need to look at those wounds Cosima mentioned." I gesture to the torn flesh visible between the metal plates grafted to his shoulder. "That means getting closer. You gonna behave?"

Another nod, though a low growl rumbles in his chest.

"He will," Cosima says softly. Her small hand hasn't left his arm. "As long as you don't make any sudden movements."

Sounds great.

Definitely not like I'm about to get freshly disfigured.

I grunt an acknowledgment and approach slowly, hands where he can see them. The Knight tracks my movement but doesn't lunge again.

Up close, the contrast between flesh and metal is even more obvious. Whoever did this to him wasn't going for aesthetics. At all. The metal enhancements—or replacements—are crude, functional. Meant for pure destructive capability rather than integration with his body.

But with the new mask Cosima somehow acquired for him, a mask with actual facial features worked into the metal—a straight nose, cheekbones, even lips set in a solemn line—he looks way more human than the last time I saw him.

And with his white hair falling around the mask in choppy layers…

Well. If you squint and ignore the fact that he's at least eight solid feet of scarred muscle and barely contained violence, he could almost pass for handsome in a classical, statue-from-hell-come-to-life kind of way.

Almost.

I crouch down next to the bed, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. The Knight's glowing blue eyes track my every motion, but he allows me to get close enough to examine his wounds.

The damage looks... extensive. And not just the new injuries from the chaos on Nikolai's territory. Some of these gashes look weeks old. A few long cuts in a bruising criss-crossed pattern suggest he was beaten with whips. Maybe even chains.

When I reach toward his back, where there are six deep vertical wounds—three on each side of his upper spine—the Knight lets out a dangerous growl. I immediately back the fuck up.

"Whoever did this was a butcher," I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. "No finesse. No consideration for long-term viability."

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