Page 71 of Prey for Me

Ifightthewavesofanxiety coursing through me and climb. I have to find a way back to the South Sector. One not crawling with armed alphas who are crazy enough to kill an omega.

Open with alphas too weak to kill Nakoa.

Useless. I feel so fucking useless just like when the fire took everything. When only Raphael, Nakoa, and I were left behind in this hell.

I leave Nakoa tucked away in the leaves with Grace, as Raphael and I scour the edges of the complex.

The more we look into it, the less sense it makes.

But more than my confusion, I feel rage.

Who would shoot at Grace?

Who would leave Nakoa to die?

Who’s really been in control of the entire island this whole time?

The party, if it can be called that, is one large orgy. It reminds me of a memory I’ve buried for years, and a shudder of revulsion worms its way down my spine.

The omegas are mostly out of it, but some scream and fight and…

Oh…

Oh no.

“Raphael!” I shout as the harpoon pierces his stomach and thrusts him over the hill into the brush.

I don’t have time to run after him, because next thing I know, I’m being pinned down by gunfire.

“Get to Grace and Nakoa,” he croaks. “I’ll open the gates. I’ll bring the entire pack.”

Brave words for a dying man. But I have no choice but to believe his insanity.

Bullets ricochet off the lighthouse, and the barrage pins me down. I use the reflective end of my KNIFE and spot three armed alphas circling from above. But then, bam!

One of their heads is blown off, and before his brother can raise his barrel, a machete smashes through his skull. I howl in laughter as the final alpha, a woman, is body checked and thrown off the tower.

It worked. That bastard Raphael actually managed to open the gate.

No longer under suppressive fire, I slip on a fox mask that’s fallen to the ground and race forward to join the melee. An army of South Shore alphas and betas descends on the disgusting display of decadence.

I don’t have time to take pleasure in seeing these sick bitches and bastards get what they deserve. Not while Raphael has a harpoon through his fucking stomach, probably bleeding out somewhere close after flinging the doors open. Not when Nakoaseems like a ghost on the verge of death, and my pregnant princess is screaming her pretty little head off.

I make quick work of the first guard, my dagger thrusting into their side of his neck as a fountain of blood spurts in the air. I use the momentary shock of his comrades to my advantage, hacking and slashing indiscriminately at ears, noses, lips, even flailing tongues as they scream for mercy.

As if any one of them deserves it.

I don’t have to kill with brutal efficiency. There’s no need for beauty in the strokes of my blade as long as they take off limbs and cut through flesh and separate veins. Every single bastard on the North Shore will pay with their life for the lives they robbed from all of us.

“Leo!” I freeze, my slippery knife buried in a woman’s guts, and turn in horror to see Grace standing above the valley, waving her hands.

Then, she cups them over her mouth and screams, “Duck!”

On instinct, I do as my omega commands, leaving my knife just in time to miss a would-be bullet to the head.

He’s rushing me too fast, on some shit making him crazed.

Raphael head butts the bastard until his face is covered in blood, then tosses him aside.

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