Page 175 of Unhinged Omega

The deck lurches beneath us as the waves crash against the joined vessels. I use the momentum to drive my knee into his midsection, following through with an elbow strike to his temple. The loose scarf covering his face slips, revealing a flash of sharp teeth.

His hand snaps out, impossibly fast for someone his size, catching my arm. Before I can break free, he slams me against the cabin wall hard enough to crack the wood. Stars explode behind my eyes and my gun clatters onto the boat's deck, but training takes over. I twist, using his grip as leverage to drive both feet into his chest.

We separate, circling each other in the confined space. Blood trickles down my back where the splintered wood caught me. Wraith's breathing is heavy, but whether from exertion or excitement is impossible to tell. His loose scarf snaps around him in the wind as he stares me down like a feral beast, blue eyes burning above a permanent scarred grin full of exposed sharp teeth, muscle, and jawbone.

It's common knowledge he never lets anyone see his face, and up close, I can see why. Apparently, that has changed.

His notorious aggression certainly hasn't.

"Tell me where the omega is," I say through my teeth in a cold tone. "This does not have to end in death."

All he does is growl in return.

Of course the two Ghosts who intercepted this vessel are the mute super soldier and the serial killer whose sanity is barely hanging on by a thread.

Speak of the devil.

I duck as a boot, then a knife, slice through the air where my head was a moment before. Valek lands beside me with all the fluid grace of a panther. He gives me a wolfish grin, silver eyes gleaming just as intensely as the wicked curved blade in his grip.

"You know," Valek drawls, "I thought this evening would just be the usual boring patrol. Brotherly bonding and all that. But this? This ismuchmore entertaining."

I reply with a swift combination. Jab, cross, hook. He deflects the first two but the third catches him in the jaw, snapping his head back. Before I can press the advantage, Wraith's massive hand closes around my throat from behind.

I drive my elbow back, feeling ribs crack under the blow. Any normal man would be on the ground. But Wraith isn't normal. His grip only tightens as he hauls me off my feet with a deep growl of exertion, the bones of my neck grinding together.

Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as Valek swaggers up to us, swiping blood from his split lip with the side of his thumb. "Well, this is fun and all, but we should probably call it in." He produces a radio, his grin never wavering. "We have a fucking situation."

Static crackles, then a familiar voice responds. My brother. Rage curls my lip at the sound of his voice. "What do you mean, a situation?"

Valek snarls into the radio. "It's yourfuckingbrother!"

I kick back with a snarl, my boot connecting with Wraith's kneecap. The joint gives with a sickening pop, and at the same time, I slam the back of my skull into his nose with every ounce of strength I possess.

There's a satisfying crunch of cartilage. Hot blood sprays across the back of my head. Wraith's grip finally loosens as he staggers back with a growl that's more surprised than hurt despite the rivers of crimson blood painting his razor-sharp teeth.

Some of it may even be mine. The back of my head is soaked, my hair matted with more blood than what's trickling from Wraith's nose. Must have cut myself on his teeth.

Not that it matters.

This is nothing compared to what I've endured forher.

Sudden movement to the left draws my eye. The fisherman staggers out of the wheelhouse, one hand pressed to a gash on his temple where he hit the wheel during the collision. In his other hand, he clutches a weathered revolver.

At first, the gun is trained on me. But when the fisherman's bleary eyes dart to Wraith and he takes in the full horror of the alpha's mangled features, he swings the gun on Wraith instead.

"A… a monster," the fisherman chokes out, the gun trembling violently in his grip.

Wraith's entire demeanor shifts. His massive frame goes rigid, shoulders hunching as one hand flies up to cover what remains of his face. A sound rips from his throat—not a growl this time, but something raw and wounded.

The distraction costs him. I dive for my fallen gun, fingers brushing cold metal before Valek's boot connects with the weapon, sending it skittering across the deck. His other foot catches me in the ribs, driving the air from my lungs.

"Not so fast, pretty boy." Valek's blade flashes in the moonlight as he brings it down in a vicious arc.

I roll, the knife missing my throat by inches and sticking into the deck. My elbow catches him behind the knee as I come up, dropping him. But before I can press the advantage, a massive hand closes around my ankle.

Wraith hauls me backward like I weigh nothing, his earlier vulnerability replaced by blind rage. I twist in his grip, driving my other heel into his hand, breaking his hold.

I spring to my feet, but both Ghosts are already circling me again. The fisherman's gun barks once, twice. Both shots go wide, pinging off metal. Valek's head snaps toward the sound, silver eyes narrowing.

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