Page 188 of Knot Their Soldier: Part Three

"Halt," I bark, and around me, the battlefield quiets. The thudding of boots on the ground stops and gunfire ceases.

I don't know how many bodies I have swept up into my Command, but I stay focused on the power flowing from the bond, into my Omega, and out of me.

Instantly, I know this time is different.

Before, it was a power I used.

Now, I am inside it.

I am the words.

I am the Command.

I open my eyes and meet the stare of the Human who is right in front of me. His arm is raised above his head, a knife glinting in his hand as he prepares to bring it down on me. He is frozen in place, but his eyes are wide in alarm.

He is no one special. There is no rank on his worn uniform marking him as an officer. He's one of thousands of the enemy soldiers following orders.

And now he will have new orders to follow.

"You will tell everyone you see to retreat, and they will pass along your message," I say, each word slow and deliberate, forcing my intentions into him so there can be no mistake. "This army will turn around and leave Fathim."

The bond pulls taut.

Knox, Viper, Shade, and Blaze.

Their strength is there, braided through mine as I channel the force of my Pack. I borrow from their Alpha Commands, take a slice of their soldier spirit, their relentless bravery, and shape it to make my voice entirely unbreakable.

I continue, fiercely holding his frozen gaze. "Everyone who hears this message will forget Alphas, Betas, and Omegas exist and will never come looking for what is beyond this mountain range."

Instantly, I feel my Command take hold, and it is nothing like before.

I move through my victims as part of him, slipping past thought, fear, and memory until I root myself in the deepest part of his psyche.

I infect him with me, a pathogen in his bloodstream, irreversible once it takes hold, and fill him with absolute certainty that my words are true. Truer than his own identity.

"Go. Now."

He turns to the soldier beside him.

When he speaks, his voice is low and calm, almost gentle.

"Retreat," is all he says, but there is a hiss behind it, a whisper that echoes my words, threading silently through the air between them.

I feel this second man change the moment he hears it, my Command moving through him too.

He turns to the next soldier and says, "Retreat" in that same quiet, certain tone that holds much more weight than just a single word.

Another thread forms and connects like a web.

Then it happens again.

And again.

And again.

The spread is instant and almost effortless.

Soldiers who were charging uphill with murder in their hearts turn on their heels and march back the way they came. It's infinite as each new voice carries me onward. I feel my words slipping from body to body, being accepted, and then being reborn through another voice.