Page 8 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
“Yeah,” Silver says, his gaze falling back to the laptop in disappointment. “It could.”
2
Axel
We blastinto the hospital together. Looking like the Grim Reaper and the Devil side by side.
Axel and Angel Stormgate.
It’s been a long time since we’ve been seen together like this. And every pair of eyes in the hospital foyer swivels our way. Swivels our way with alarm.
The security guards glance at each nervously, obviously wondering what the hell they should do about us.
Because it’s been areallylong time since we’ve been seen together like this. Clearly on the warpath, and this time not heading towards each other.
We had a reputation back in the day. One for trouble and chaos. I expect there were several sighs of relief when our relationship busted up like it did. We could do far less damage apart than we ever could together.
I don’t linger to see if the security guards are going to try to turf us out. Instead, I march straight for the elevator and smack the button, Angel right by my side all the way.
As we wait for the elevator to arrive, the foyer deathly silent like everyone’s afraid to utter a single word, a shiver of disgust meanders down my spine.
I fucking hate this place. Always have done as far back as I can remember. As kids, we were dragged here multiple times by our mom to get a cheek stitched up, a shoulder reset, a broken arm cast up.
It was no surprise. The two of us spent our entire childhood falling out of trees, tumbling into rivers, and beating the shit out of each other. It was our favorite pastime. The majority of the scars littering my body are down to Angel’s hand and no one else’s.
I glance at my brother now. So like me. His eyes, his build, his coloring. Only his jaw is different and the tilt of his cheekbones. He’s more like our mom. I’m more like our dad.
Maybe that’s the other reason I always hated the fucker. He was always a mama’s boy. Her favorite. Her baby. Ten months younger than me and yet those months seemed to make all the difference. It was always ‘look after your brother’ and ‘you’re the oldest, Axel’.
Angel grimaces as we ride the elevator up to the omega clinic. I understand why. It’s the other reason I can’t stand this place and the last time we’d spent in each other’s company in what could pass as a civilized manner.
The door of the elevator slides open and Angel stumbles back slightly.
It’s the stench. Stale omega scents, mixed with sterilizing solutions and floral candles. It makes me want to vomit. No omega belongs here. Especially for a goddamn heat. What was she thinking?
The smell catches in the back of my throat and brings back a flood of unwelcome memories. Of walking through these doors together with my brother, our mom pinned between us, demanding the doctors tell us what the fuck was wrong with her. Praying they’d find a way to fix her. Not that they could. Not that they did. And she’s been withering away in front of our eyes ever since.
“I hate this place,” Angel mumbles, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for his gun and blast this place apart.
There’s a serious chance that we will.
A couple of omegas sit in the plush waiting room, and they look up from their phones and magazines and whimper.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I tell them and when neither of them move, I add in a bark, “Now.”
They both jump to their feet and scurry to the elevator, eyes trained to the ground like good little omegas.
If I wasn’t so fucking angry, I’d find it amusing.
Once the elevator door clicks shut behind us, I yell out into the empty waiting room, “You have to the count of five to get your sorry ass out here and then we start shooting. One …”
We can hear someone scrambling down the corridor and Angel’s eyes flick to mine.
“Two.” I yell, nodding at him. “Three.”
He thunders through the door.
“Four.”
