Page 54 of Run Omega Run
"Then you're about to discover," I said, my voice carrying the absolute conviction of someone who'd faced down worse threats than loan sharks in expensive suits, "that some channels run deeper than others."
Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs, and then Angus filled the hallway like a force of nature. His massive frame blocked most of the moon light from the windows, his wild hair disheveled, and his green eyes blazed with the kind of fury that spoke of violence.
"Ye'll not be takin' anythin' from this hoose today, ye piece of shite," he growled, his Scottish accent thick enough to cut with a blade. The chocolate scent that usually marked his presence had sharpened to something darker, more dangerous, like burned sugar mixed with smoke from a forge. His hands flexedat his sides, knuckles cracking with sounds like small-caliber gunshots.
Relief flooded through my system so completely it nearly made my knees buckle. Angus wasn't just backup; he was a one-man wrecking crew. The situation had just shifted dramatically in my favor, evening odds that had been stacked dangerously against me.
I caught Angus's eye and nodded once. He understood immediately, positioning himself to block the stairs, protecting the children and Heather.
"A friend of yours?" Jude asked with studied casualness, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes that suggested his confidence had taken its first real hit. Four against one had been acceptable odds for intimidation. Four against two, with one of the two being a Scottish berserker who looked like he ate smaller criminals for breakfast, presented a more complicated equation.
"Pack," I corrected, letting the word hang in the air. It meant people who would die for each other. Pack meant no retreat, no surrender, no negotiation when loved ones were threatened.
Before Jude could respond, movement on the staircase drew every eye in the room. Dante descended slowly, his eyes narrowed as he took in the situation unfolding below. He placed his hand on Angus’s shoulder as he walked past him. “Why are you here?” he asked Jude. But he didn’t answer.
Jude's men had spread out during our exchange. Zaff had moved closer to the staircase, his bulk casting shadows that made Loubie Lou whimper softly. Karver had melted into the corner where his slim frame could strike quickly at anyone who moved to flank their position. Mazus prowled near the window, blocking potential escape routes while his wild eyes tracked every movement with predatory intensity.
They were herding us, I realized. Positioning themselves to control not just the adults who could fight back, but the childrenwho couldn't defend themselves. It was a psychological warfare technique designed to paralyze opposition through the threat of collateral damage.
"Interesting pack dynamics," Jude observed, his gaze moving between Heather's obvious vulnerability and our protective positioning around her. "Three Alphas and one Omega." His smile sharpened.
“Four,” I said, my eyes narrowed as I readied myself to fight.
He tutted. "I wonder what social services would make of this, particularly involving children's welfare."
The implication hit like a physical blow. He wasn't just threatening violence; he was threatening to destroy everything through legal channels that could separate us permanently. An investigation could result in the children being removed while they compiled evidence, which, considering the state of the legal system, could take years.
"You seem to be under several misconceptions," a new voice said from the top of the stairs, calm and conversational despite the deadly tension filling the hallway.
Cole emerged from the shadows, his black clothing making him nearly invisible until he stepped into the light. His toffee scent carried undertones of something clinical, the smell of places where people went when they died. Unlike the rest of us, who radiated various forms of aggressive protection, Cole seemed almost relaxed, as if violent home invasions were just another day at the office.
The effect on Jude's men was immediate and profound. Zaff took an involuntary step backward, his bulk suddenly seeming less intimidating. Karver's hand moved toward a concealed weapon, then stopped as if he'd reconsidered the wisdom of escalation. Even Mazus's constant prowling stuttered to a halt as primal instincts warned him he was facing something dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with physical strength.
"First misconception," Cole continued, walking down the stairs slowly, "is that you're dealing with civilians.” Jude scoffed. “The second misconception is that we aren’t easily intimidated.”
Jude laughed, “And are there any more?”
Cole stepped down another stair. “Just one. The third misconception is that you think you know who we are.” Jude’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you know what I do for a living?” Cole asked, stepping down each stair, never taking his eyes off the leader.
“Do I give a shit?” Jude asked.
Cole stepped down again. “I make people disappear.”
“Like fuck you do!”
“Have you not heard of the Death Doctor?”
Jude’s eyes widened, and he took a step back towards the entrance. “Like fuck you are.”
Cole grinned with a sadistic smile. “And do you know what the Death Doctor does to his victims?”
Jude narrowed his eyes, and Zaff backed off further. “He incinerates them, so there’s nothing left to identify. No bones. No teeth. Nothing.” Jude gulped. “By the time I’m finished, there won’t even be a record showing you were ever born.”
Zaff coughed, backing right away to the doorway. Cole watched him. “And do you know how I do that?” Cole asked. Jude shook his head. “I’m the hospital pathologist, and I have access to all areas.” He pursed his lips into a grin. “Just last week, I burned the body of one of your little gang. Remember Mickey Dee?”
Zaff gasped. “Shit, man! I wondered where he went.”
