Page 45 of Marked Omega

“I’ve heard of this kind of thing,” he says. “The outsiders deliberately poison themselves because they think it is medicine. But the medicine only makes them sick, and they become dependent on it. With enough time, the dependence is so strong that they need the poison to stay alive.”

“You mean she could die?” I gasp.

That thought is too terrible to consider. Even though I have only known her for barely a day, this omega has become the most important thing in my life. I don’t know what we would do if we lost her.

Addom gathers the sick, shivering, naked omega in his arms and throws her over his shoulder. Her wet hair drips down his back and sticks to him like vines. Hasker and I rise to our feet.

“Kadmon, get your clothes and your belongings. Hasker douse the fire. We must make haste.”

“What are we going to do?” I ask, trying to hide the panic in my voice as I dress myself quickly.

“We must take her back to the city,” Addom says resolutely. “The outsider healer will know what to do.”

“The other omega?” Hasker asks. “What if she doesn’t know what to do?”

“Then we must pray that the Source will give Lily strength and help her heal.”

PART THREE:

THE SOURCE

CHAPTER 16: LILY

The Alphas’ howls echo through the night forest.

The woods are eerie and blue with moonlight. I race through the trees. The brambles bloody my ankles and twigs whip my face and sting my eyes, blinding me. I slam into the rough bark of a trunk. Spinning, I stumble and fall to the ground, scraping my knees on the tangled roots and rough stones.

I scramble to get away, breath panting, fingers clawing at the soil, feet slipping in the carpet of dead leaves.

But it’s too late.

The Alphas are already here. They have me surrounded.

There are four of them. Four hulking silhouettes. They stand around me at the four points of the compass like they are preparing for some grim, primitive ceremony, and I’m the sacrifice. Their mirrored eyes glow dully in the moonlight. Plumes of steaming breath curls around their heads.

“Help me!” I scream.

My voice is shrill, but it has no echo. The dark forest simply swallows it, like a coin dropped into a bottomless well.

The Alphas just laugh cruelly as they slowly close in around me. Their disgusting wet-fur stench fills my nostrils. My ears fill with the percussion of my heart.

Scrambling to my feet, I make a desperate attempt to escape, darting toward a gap between two of the shadowy Alphas. They are too swift for me, and with a quick sidestep they close the gap, shoving me backward with their rough hands.

I lunge toward another gap. The same result. The Alphas just push me back into the center of their tightening ring.

“Please somebody help me!” I shriek again.

My voice breaks. Scalding tears are now streaming down my face.

The Alphas are so close now I can smell their rancid, cannibal breath. They snarl and huff and pop their jaws like wolves. White fangs flash in the moonlight.

These are not the Alphas who rescued me. These are the far-landers. The horrible, disfigured creatures that attacked me in the woods.

They are grunting and chanting something over and over again, but their accent obscures it.

Their faces begin to resolve in the dimness. They are mangled and bloody. One of them is missing an eye, the gaping socket dripping black blood, and in my horror, it takes me a moment to recognize him.

Deakon.