Page 33 of Unhinged Omega

The same kind that headbutts a notorious warlord and tries to castrate him with blunt force trauma, apparently.

I glance down at her again, taking in the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the soft curve of her lips. She looks so fragile like this. Nothing like the hellcat who nearly escaped.

And both versions are doing something to my head I don't particularly like.

The elevator finally slows to a stop as it reaches the top floor. I shoulder my way through the reinforced door into my private quarters. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of my domain, but I barely notice the sight I usually spend hours brooding over.

I'm too focused on the woman in my arms—and the growing certainty that I'm in way over my fucking head.

"Time to wake up," I say, laying her gently on the massive bed that dominates one corner of the space. My coat is still wrapped around her, and something possessive stirs in my chest at the sight.

I push the feeling down. Hard.

More blankets. I gather every one I can find, which isn't a lot. Most of the time I don't even properly go to bed, I just kind of drift off doing something else for a few hours here and there. Never needed more.

This place isn't a home so much as it is a lookout tower. A place I can get away to plot and plan my next scheme. There's the bed, a leather couch I had my men haul out of an abandoned department store, and a basic kitchen I haven't touched since I took over this place and had it remodeled. Other than that, and a cache of some essentials and weapons in case I ever need to get the hell out of dodge, the vast space is pretty much empty.

The control panels around the perimeter add a certain ambiance, though. I left those. Still not exactly an ideal location to keep a prissy omega, but I guess it's better than a dank concrete cell.

She doesn't stir, doesn't even blink. Just keeps staring at nothing with those haunting eyes. I've seen this kind of thing before. Soldiers who've seen too much, their minds checking out when reality becomes too much to handle.

But what could make an omega princess from a privileged background break like this?

The monster?

How the fuck would it have even gotten to her when she's probably spent her whole life in an ivory tower?

I rake a hand through my hair in frustration, wincing when the back of my hand brushes against my busted nose. Questions pile up like bodies after a firefight, and the one person who could answer them is currently lost in her own world.

A world that apparently involves a certain iron-masked beast.

The same beast that tore through twenty-six of my men like they were made of paper. The same beast that's currently throwing itself against the walls of its prison and clawing at the edges, trying to climb out.

Trying to get toher.

What are the fucking odds? I don't believe in coincidences, even less in fate. Only what I can see, hear, and touch.

But that scent of hers… that was real.

And so was the fear I felt when she was balancing on the edge of that pit.

All of it means something. And I'm enough of a realist that I know exactly how fucking dangerous it is. I also know exactly how much shit I'm in if I don't hand her back when the Ghosts come calling.

For the first time in my life, I'm just not sure rationality is going to win out.

Chapter

Eight

KNIGHT

moon is an omega?

moon is here?

moon is… gone

moon is so small

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