Page 20 of Shared Omega

I line up the sights between those bloodshot eyes.

“Die,” I hiss between gritted teeth.

I squeeze the trigger.

Click.

The hammer falls on an empty chamber.

A sickening chill ripples over my flesh. How could I have wasted all of my ammo already? I should have kept my cool and waited until the thing was closer, so there would be no chance of missing.

Now that mistake is going to cost me my life.

And possibly a whole lot more.

Suddenly a new sound booms through the forest. An almost deafening roar that echoes between the ancient trees.

The climbing Alpha, who is now just feet below me, pauses his ascent. He perches like a gargoyle and cranes his neck in the direction of the sound. A low, canine growl rumbles in his throat. Below, his companions have ceased there hooting and are sniffing the air.

Something is crashing through the underbrush. Something big.

Another, an even louder roar erupts through the forest, and a massive figure explodes out of the trees, flying straight for the Alphas on the ground. It moves so fast that it is little more than a blur in the shadows and dappled moonlight.

Shrieking, the Alphas below are scattered like bowling pins. In a flash, the attacker pounces on the nearest Alpha, and there is a sickening crunch of bone.

The attacker rises to his feet and tilts his head up toward me.

“Sloane!” he bellows.

“Dog?” I manage to stammer breathlessly.

It’s really him. It’s Dog. He survived.

He is dressed only in his form-fitting black shorts and nothing else. No shoes to help him run over this harsh terrain. No weapons.

Dog doesn’t need them. His body is his weapon. He was big before, but now that he is in full-blown attack mode, his physique looks absolutely terrifying. Layer upon layer of striated muscles traced with bulging veins.

He sees the Alpha perched on the branch below me and snarls. But the other three Alphas on the ground are already on their feet and they have him surrounded. He’s outnumbered three to one.

That doesn’t matter.

With another booming roar, Dog explodes into action.

The other Alphas are no joke, but their attacks are wild and undirected. Dog has the advantage of training.

I see moves that I recognize from my own regimen, a mixture of disciplines—Muay Thai, Krav Maga, and jiu-jitsu—all executed with such superhuman speed and precision that the untrained wild Alphas don’t stand a chance.

The Alpha perched below me in the tree watches as his pack-mates are brutally slaughtered by Dog. For an instant, the beast seems to consider helping them, but then it whips its face upward toward me and snarls.

“Your friends are dead you bastard,” I shout. “Run away while you can.”

The Alpha ignores me, or perhaps it just doesn’t understand. It leaps to another limb, then leaps again. One massive, hairy hand catches onto the branch where I’m sitting, and the other clutches my leg. Sharp claws bite painfully into my shin.

I scream, a piercing sound born of pain and rage. There is a flash of steel as I plunge my knife into the creature’s wrist, and it releases me with an agonized howl.

The beast swings, ape-like, and hooks one leg over the branch, struggling to hold on. I rear back one boot, preparing to kick the creature straight in its hideous face, but I don’t get the chance.

There is a sharp crackle of splintering wood