by Shannon West
The female was crouched down beside the jerk with the gun, hugging herself, holding her head in her hands and screaming non-stop like a goddamn air raid siren. The sound rose to an eardrum-splitting crescendo and then died back down as she paused for another breath to start it up all over again. The asshole had fired three shots so far, taking out a water cooler and an ATM and putting a huge hole in the wall beside the security guard’s head.
The alpha looked up as I came skidding in to a stop and turned to take aim. Now, when someone aims a gun at me, the old defense-of-life rules I'd been taught by my father automatically kicked in. I decided in that split second that if he could use a gun, then so could I. My father said I was allowed by law to use deadly force with a gun only if my life or the life of another innocent party was in jeopardy. Whenever I had to protect Logan or myself, though, my own personal motto was, “The moment the other guy presents a threat, that's when I start shooting. When he no longer presents a threat, that’s when I stop.” It had always stood me in good stead.
It was actually unusual for a wolf to start shooting up a place. We didn't need to, since we had other weapons already “built-in,” so to speak. Either this guy wasn't much of a wolf, or he wanted to intimidate the humans in the building. Or maybe a little of both.
I took a stance and aimed my gun, and he swung and pointed his gun in my direction. Now the idea that anyone should aim for an attacker’s arm or leg is the result of people watching way too much TV. It also greatly overestimates most people's sharpshooting skills, and mine in particular, and reflects a misconception of real-life dynamics. I was an excellent shot, but hands and arms can be the fastest-moving parts on the human body. The average assailant can move his hand and his forearm across his body in a twelfth of a second to reach for a gun. He can move his hand from his hip to shoulder height to point it at you in an eighteenth. There’s just no way I could react, track, shoot, and reliably hit a suspect’s arm or hand in the time it would take to keep him from killing me or the person I was protecting. No fucking way. You aim for center mass, you hope you eliminate the threat, and you keep shooting until nobody’s shooting back. Period.
I had about a tenth of a second to react to that alpha pointing his gun in my direction. I also had to consider the fact that I was nine months pregnant, and he had that gun aimed squarely at my own center mass. I dropped the son-of-a-bitch where he stood.
****
“Name?”
“Kade Montgomery.”
“Do you have a license for your weapon?”
I did under my real name, which was Martin. Montgomery was the fake name on all my fake ID. I’d had nine months to get a new ID after I’d run. I’d used the majority of my meager savings to obtain a new driver’s license, a new social security card and even a new fucking library card, but I never thought about a new gun license. I sighed and said, “No, I don’t.”
The cop, probably a gamma wolf from the look of him, stopped writing things down on his pad and squinted up at me. The humans employed a few wolves on their police forces in the larger areas just to deal with other wolves they encountered on the job. “No?” he asked suspiciously.
“No.”
“Why is that?”
“Look, uh,” I peered at his badge. “Officer Griswald, I actually…I never got around to it. I got the gun for protection, and I thought…I mean, I hoped I’d never need to use it.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, snapping his gum and nodding as if I’d just confirmed something for him, and he jotted it down. “How long you been in town, Kade?”
Not Mr. Montgomery, but Kade, the way wolves always addressed omegas, as if we only had that one name, like Sonny and Cher. I guess I was Cher in that scenario.
“Almost nine months.”
“And this is your current address?’
“Yes, it is.”
“And where did you say your alpha was?”
“I don’t have an alpha. Like I told the other officer, I’m on my own.”
“But you’re supposed to be an omega?”
“As you can see,” I said, spreading my jacket a little and indicating my baby bump.
“Huh. You don't look like any omega I ever saw. Okay. Tell me again why you were here today.”
“I came in to get food stamps and some emergency aid. I’m not working, because I’m expecting a child, and I’ve been sick a lot, and I, uh, just haven’t been able to find a job yet.”
“Uh-huh.” He snapped his little pad closed, popped his gum again, and nodded at me. “You’re gonna have to go downtown with me and talk to the lieutenant. It’s just a formality, you understand, as long as the cameras and witnesses both say the shooting was in self-defense, like we expect them to. The paramedics say the man you shot is probably gonna make it, but we’ll have to confiscate your gun, of course. Considering the circumstances, I feel sure you’ll be released as soon as your alpha comes for you.”
I began to panic at that point and got a little loud. “What are you talking about? I told you I don’t have an alpha!”
“I’ll be honest with you, Kade, I don’t think I believe you. A pretty thing like you, with that body and those big brown eyes—and pregnant to boot—has somebody who’s in charge of him. You may have had a little fight, but I’m sure he’s worried about you. Just bat those pretty eyelashes at him, tell him you're sorry for whatever you did, and ask him nicely if you can come home. He’ll give in, I guarantee it. Now come with me, and let’s not have any more trouble. You can talk to the lieutenant, and we’ll see what he has to say.”
There were so many things wrong with that asshole assessment I didn’t even know where to start. First of all, I wasn’t a “pretty thing,” and I just might knock the hell out of the next person who called me that, because it happened a lot. I stood six feet one inches tall and weighed a hundred and sixty-five pounds—okay, a hundred and eighty-nine on my last clinic visit. But one-sixty-five was my normal weight when I wasn't pregnant and retaining fluid. My fucking ankles had all but disappeared. But despite my condition, I was sure I could totally kick this guy’s ass. And what the fuck did the color of my eyes have to do with anything? For another thing, he had no right to keep me until “my alpha” came for me. I knew the law better than that. But I also knew that arguing with him was probably useless, so I sucked it up and walked beside him out to his car.
The second we stepped out the door, I was momentarily blinded by flash bulbs going off in my face. Apparently, a shooting by an omega at the OFCS was big news, and I was smack dab in the middle of it. I could hear the shouts of the reporters as I passed by them with the custodial hand of Officer Griswald gripping my upper arm.
“Is it true you’re an omega wolf?”
“Why are you so big? Aren't you a little tall for an omega?”
“Did you kill some other wolf?”
“Who did you shoot?
“Where’s your alpha?”
“How did an omega get a gun anyway?”
I tried to duck my head, but I already knew it was too late. They had a prime shot of me with my mouth hanging open in surprise as we came out the front door. Shit—the very last thing I needed was publicity and my face splashed all over the front page of the newspaper. I just had to hope that while this was apparently big local news, it wasn’t likely to make the papers where anyone I knew could possibly see it.
Thirty minutes later, I was cooling my heels at the police station and waiting for the lieutenant to see me. The bench was uncomfortable, and a tiny foot was tap dancing on my bladder, but I was afraid to go searching for a bathroom in case they called me. I needed to get out of there and think up a good story for my landlord to convince him to wait another month until my check came, so he could get paid. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to have much luck.
“Kade Montgomery.”
I got to my feet and went to a door down the hallway where the lieutenant was waiting to speak to me. He was a human, and he motioned me into his office, opened up
the folder on his desk, and proceeded to ask me the same questions the other officers had asked me all over again. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and contemplated me like I was something a little out of his experience, which I probably was.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Kade, you don’t look like the typical wolf omega we see around here.” I did mind, but I gritted my teeth and didn’t respond. That didn’t stop him, of course. “Why are you presenting yourself more like a beta?”
I stifled a little long-suffering sigh. “I'm not presenting myself any way that I’m aware of. At least it’s not anything I’m doing on purpose.”
He just kept looking at me expectantly, and I knew I’d have to explain. I hated airing my private business this way, but a wolf, and especially an omega, wasn’t supposed to have any privacy in the first place, and things like basic fourth amendment rights for wolves often got buried or left by the wayside.
“Okay,” I said, “According to the doctors I've seen, the few who deal strictly with wolves, I have a condition known as silent heat. There’s a more technical name for it, but I don’t remember it. Anyway, it’s basically a problem with the hypothalamus in my brain. Mine apparently doesn’t work right and caused an imbalance of hormones. Without going into too many details, I was a ‘late bloomer’ the doctor said. Most omegas get their first heat before the age of sixteen and have a lot of symptoms. Mine may have come in then too, but I didn't have any symptoms, or at least none that were noticeable until earlier this year. The doctor thought that since my omega hormones didn't kick in when they were supposed to, my body developed like a normal wolf.”
“A normal one?”
“Maybe that was the wrong word. I meant, a wolf who wasn't omega.”
“I see. So, no noticeable symptoms until recently?”
“Nope. None I was ever aware of.”
He tilted his head to the side, regarding me with disbelief. “So, you…did what? You didn’t realize you were an omega?”
“No, and neither did anybody else. Obviously, I have a body type that developed more like a beta’s—bigger and more muscular than an omega. And since I didn't express the hormones and never went into heat, everyone assumed I was a beta. My scent is apparently hard to read. That's what I've been told anyway.”
“I see. Must have been quite a shock then when you went into heat the first time.”
“You might say that.”
Shock was one word for it. Also, disaster, calamity, fiasco, and a fucking blight on my whole existence. For one thing, my position as Logan's beta was over. Omegas couldn’t be bodyguards and right-hand men to an alpha, for the goddess's sake. They weren’t expected to even have a career. They were expected to mate with an alpha and have babies, and that was it—their sole function in life. No job, no career—they were also considered by most of the other wolves to be weak, not too bright, and in need of an alpha to define their lives. I fucking hated that. I fucking hated all of this. Not that I was any kind of genius, and I’d admit to that. But I wasn’t weak, and I sure as hell didn’t need anyone--not even Logan--to make my decisions for me. Never gonna happen. Not in this lifetime.
The lieutenant was looking at me, probably trying to figure out why I was so prickly about it, but I still hadn’t come to terms with it yet. I honestly didn’t know if I ever could.
“I’ve reviewed the tapes from the security cameras and read the reports from the witnesses. The security guard’s testimony backs up your statement, though Mr. Martinez’s omega, the girl he threatened with the gun, said he was only showing it to her when it accidentally went off.”
I snorted. “Three times?”
He smiled a little and shrugged, and then looked up from the report. “The thing is, Kade, that Mr. Martinez is connected. Have you ever heard of La Esse?”
“Some kind of big Mexican Wolf Pack? Yeah, I’ve heard of them.”
“Then you know the pack didn’t originate in Mexico but started entirely in the U.S. as a criminal prison organization, with associate pack members in almost every state. Associate members who also carry out illegal activities in the hopes of becoming full-fledged members of the pack. Mr. Martinez falls into that category.”
“Okay, so not a real pack then. Just a conglomeration of mutts and mongrels?”
He smiled and lifted an eyebrow. “Don't underestimate them. They can be very tenacious. It’s entirely possible that some of his friends and packmates may come after you to retaliate, and when he gets out of prison, he could come after you again as well. I really need to talk to your alpha about this. I understand that you refused to give your alpha's name to the other officers and claim not to know who he is, but I need to impress upon you the seriousness of this situation. Your life may well be in danger, and we need a way to contact him.”
“I don’t know who the father of my baby is. And I’m not lying,” I said, totally lying through my teeth. I was never going to tell them or anybody else. That was information I’d take to my grave, which might be a very early one, apparently, if La Esse had anything to say about it.
The lieutenant sighed. “A relative then. A friend or a person who cares about you?”
“Good luck finding one of those.”
He spread his hands on the desk in front of him and shook his head. He stood up, dismissing me. “Well, there’s nothing else I need from you right now, except your testimony at Mr. Martinez’s hearing in a few weeks. I have your address and phone number, and someone will be in touch.”
“No problem,” I said. “Am I free to go?”
“Yes, of course. And I don’t mean to alarm you, Kade, but you need to be careful. These people shouldn’t be dismissed lightly. Between now and the hearing you should watch your back.”
“Always,” I said. One of the cops in the hallway showed me a back exit to avoid the reporters who had shown up out front, and I took off out of the station. Once back out on the sidewalk, I zipped up my coat and pulled my ball cap down over my forehead. The wind felt like it came right off the frigid Atlantic and threatened to blow my cap off my head and send it careening down the street. I was starving to death, but I had approximately three dollars and change, plus a bus token, in my pocket, so I went over to the bus stop to catch a bus that would take me out to my neighborhood. I still had half a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter back at the room I was renting. I shoved my hands in my pockets and cursed the evil wind that had blown me to Virginia seven months earlier. I dropped my head to my chest and thought about that night—the night when all my trouble began.
Chapter Two
Seven months earlier
“Come on, Kade,” Logan called to me from the bedroom. “Move your ass. We’re going to be late, and it’s a new moon.”
“Okay,” I called back, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and wondering why I was even making the effort.
New moons meant gorgeous, starry skies, of course, and they were a sight to see. Because when the moon was new, the stars were at their brightest in the sky, and there was nothing more beautiful, fascinating, and bewitching to a wolf than a nighttime sky. In order to really see the stars, pitch-black darkness was necessary, so that down here on earth we could see things like the Milky Way, some of the planets, and maybe even nebulae from the mountain tops. At any rate, the Zodiacal light and airglow were at their most beautiful on a really dark night. In ancient times, the first sighting of the new moon each month was an important marker on the wolf’s calendar, and our pack still liked to mark it by a midnight run. We'd wind up on a mountaintop, build up a bonfire and have an impromptu celebration.
There really wasn't an occasion, other than the fact that we were young, strong, and in love with our goddess Moon. But none of that mattered. The new moon didn’t quite match the excitement and beauty of a full moon, but hell, Logan used almost any excuse for a nighttime run. In our wolf forms, we could see almost as well as we could during the daylight, and there was just something about a new moon—there was
magic in it, and the promise of starting over, starting fresh, with all those possibilities out there in front of us.
Most of us anyway. Not so much for me, since Logan, the only man I'd ever loved, had shot down any possibility of us ever being together romantically. Things hadn’t been the same between us for over a month, now, not since I’d finally gotten up the courage to tell Logan how I really felt about him—or at least told him that I found him attractive, and I wondered if we could be more than just friends and an alpha and his beta. Looking back on it, I could see now that it had been a colossally bad idea, but at the time, I just couldn’t go on hiding it from him any longer. I loved him too much to pretend, and I felt like that love must be just leaking out of me, like water from an old bucket full of holes. Surely, he could tell.
I don’t know what I expected him to say or do. No, that’s a lie. What I’d expected-slash-hoped for was that he would take me in his arms or take me to bed—whichever one worked for him would have been fine with me. Instead, Logan had ripped out my heart, torn it to shreds, and stomped it flat.
He had looked at me sadly and with a touch of pity and told me he just didn’t feel the same way.
Not in so many words, of course. He tried to keep it light at first and make jokes, but when he saw that I was being honest and that I meant every word of what I had said, and that every teasing word out of his mouth was killing me, he’d gotten all serious and taken my hand in his. He explained, gently and with a lot of patience, that we made a good team—a great one—and we were best friends to boot. It was a rare combination, when it came to an alpha and his beta, and he didn't want to “mess that up.” A relationship between us would ruin what we had, and he didn’t want to take any chances with it, because he “cared about me” far too much.