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31. Jane

Carmen licks her lips at the shock on my face, then waves a hand at Logan. It's all the warning I get before he grunts and tosses me off his shoulder. I hit the ground hard, but my power is washing over me a second later, dulling the pain. I scramble into a crouch, but Logan plants a huge boot in my chest and knocks me back, grinding me onto the floor. Carmen sashays over, the wig tossed over her arm as she relieves me of my weapons.

"I knew Manson was fucking an omega," Logan sneers, pressing the heel of his boot on my protective cup. "That boy's too afraid of his daddy to screw a traitor."

Carmen has tossed my weapons across the room and now leans down to grab my face, her cold fingers digging into my cheeks. "Which begs the question, who are you? And what are you doing on campus? Did the ferals loan you to Manson? Are you some kind of fuck toy they've been passing around between them?"

Despite her crude words, Carmen looks as perfectly put together as usual, her uniform wrinkle free and her hair pin straight. But she's close enough for me to smell her, and there's a trace of something new in her scent as she glares down at me. Contempt and malice I'm used to, but now there's also the prickly tang of jealousy. It wouldn't make sense except that I've watched how she acts around the Bleak House guys. "No," I fib, smiling into her narrowed eyes. "Travis is the only one who's made love to me."

She recoils, her face crumpling in disgust. "You're lying. He's never been with an omega."

I manage a shrug, even though my shoulders are grinding painfully against the floor. "Guess he was just waiting for the right one to come along."

She lunges forward, her fist burying in my gut with enough force to make me gag. "Shut your dirty mouth."

She looks like she wants to hit me again, but she whirls away, grabbing my backpack off the floor. She dumps out the contents, sneering at the white dress and heels. "What's this for?"

"Date night," I manage to spit out, not risking healing myself in front of them again. "You know how omegas love their pretty dresses? Well, seems like Travis feels the same way."

I'm not sure why I'm goading her like this, except that after being face-to-face with the general, then tossed around like trash by these two, I've reached my tolerance for bullies.

I must have hit a raw nerve, because Carmen lunges for me again, this time swinging a leg over me so she's sitting on my ribs. With a sneer, she rips the white dress in two, tossing it over her shoulder. I suck in a pained breath as she leans down, plucking the top off my tube of red lipstick and waving it under my nose. "Better get to work, then. With a face this ugly, you need all the help you can get."

I grunt, but there's no point in fighting her as she applies the lipstick in clumsy strokes, clearly enjoying smearing it all over my face. When she's done, she gives my cheek a vicious pinch and stands up, grinding the lipstick tube under her shoe. "I've got to go sit with my dad for the second half," she tells Logan, looking down at me with cold eyes. "Do what you want with her, but if she loses a few teeth before we hand her over to the dean, all the better."

Logan gives an eager chuckle, but Carmen doesn't glance back as she strides from the room. I try to lunge towards my discarded weapons, but Logan mashes me like a bug under his big boot. My gaze darts around the room, taking in the shuttered windows before landing on the door to the training course. When Logan notices, it adds extra malice to his grin. "Do you want a rematch, runt? Or are you gonna lie still and take it like a good omega? Because I promise you, if you make me chase you, you'll regret it."

The threat reminds me of the day Manson dragged me into the Trap Team den, but even when he was going all caveman, I never really thought he was going to hurt me like Logan clearly plans to. My heart is beating so hard I can barely catch a breath, but as his hands drop to his belt, I also remember Travis' words: Throat. Groin. Knee.

If Logan tries to put his dick anywhere near me, I'm definitely going for the middle option.

Strike, retreat, and run. As Logan looms over me, I can't see how I can avoid this fight, but Travis has been teaching me to play to my strengths. And being a secret omega with killer healing powers, my biggest weapon against assholes like Logan is the element of surprise.

He has his trousers around his thighs when I lunge, bringing up my foot and kicking him hard in the balls. Since he knew he wasn't getting game time, Logan didn't bother with a protective cup. My boots are as heavy and thick soled as his, and I give him a vicious grin as his face goes green. He staggers back, but I don't let him get far, pulling the knife from the reject box out of my vest. I lunge at his legs, going for his unprotected thigh, and he screams as the blade sinks into the muscle. The floor practically shakes as he goes down on a knee, and I rise up, grabbing his hair with my free hand. His eyes are wild with panic as he looks at the bloody knife, but I yank his head back, slamming my lips down on his.

There's kissing to heal and there's kissing to drown in pleasure. This is neither of those things. Instead, I deliver only a single thread of power to his panting mouth, but it's enough to make his spine give way and his eyes roll back in his head. The calming kiss, as they call it on the ward, is used to sedate alphas when they're raging from panic or pain. It should knock him out for at least an hour, and since I don't want him to bleed to death, I quickly grab his discarded belt and bind up his thigh wound.

When I'm done, I grab the rest of my weapons, fitting them back into their loops. No one will question me being armed when I'm in uniform, although the lipstick smeared across my face might raise a few eyebrows. I rub it off as best I can, then grab the wig off the floor. The dress is a tattered ruin, but maybe I can grab a coat…

The floor suddenly shifts under my feet, and for an uneasy moment I think the calming kiss hasn't worked. But Logan is still passed out, and the shaking is definitely coming from outside the room.

What the hell?

I'm almost at the door when a thunderous boom makes me stumble. A siren immediately splits the air, and I dodge back to the window, pressing the button to lift the shutters. My hands are shaking by the time they roll back and I'm staring down into the stadium. People are milling around in the stands, the players leaving the dugouts to stare into the sky. I follow their pointing fingers, a soft gasp leaving my lips as I see the plume of ash rising about the Citadel Mountains .

The compound is under attack.

It's the only explanation that makes sense. Heart in my throat, I quickly search for Law in the stands, but the angle is all wrong. When screams start filtering into the room, I dart out the door and sprint down the corridor. Pushing through the glass doors to the stadium, I stare around in horror.

If I thought chaos reigned on the field before, it was a shadow of what lies before me now. Spectators have left their seats, swarming out onto the field while others are pushing to the exits. Women scream as they're caught in the crush, children howling as they're torn away from their parents. I'm in the middle of the first tier, which means I'm jostled by those people trying to rush down from the higher levels, but it also gives me a perfect view of the soldiers pouring into the stadium.

It's the first time I've seen a Vistrian in the flesh, and I sway, latching onto a nearby column for support. They're dressed in combat black and marching in military formation, but that's not the most terrifying part. As they fall on the spectators who have left their seats, three-inch claws gleam in the bright sunlight, while bone-white fangs tear into their prey. As if the threat of invasion isn't enough to make our blood run cold, the Vistrians have sent their feral alphas as an advance attack.

It seems like an eternity before we mount some kind of defense. The college dignitaries, including a sobbing Dean Whitmore, are quickly swept to an exit, but the military officers are forming battle lines on the field. Most of our soldiers are still in the mountain compound – which I can see shrouded in smoke beyond the stadium roof – but an honor guard was invited to view the game. I watch as Manson's father marshals the troops from a dais at the end of the field, the other Old Boys clustered around him as they bark orders at their men.

Unfortunately, it doesn't stop the alphas slashing and tearing into the honor guard. I watch the first row go down in a wave of blood, their rifles torn from their hands by inhuman claws. Some of the soldiers start to shoot from the back, and everywhere people are screaming and running, the siren still howling over our heads. I'm almost knocked off my feet by people trying to flee the field, so I clamber onto a seat in the middle of the row, searching for Law.

I see Eloise first, little more than a lump of gold hair and white fur in the corner of their booth. Her arms are wrapped over her head like she can wish this nightmare away, and while their father is nowhere in sight, Law is trying to coax his sister out with gentle hands. I can see the fear in his eyes even from here, but for the moment they're not in immediate danger, and I turn my gaze back to the field.

Manson's the first thing I see, even though it's hard to tell the Trapshot team apart in their uniforms. But he's at the head of the charge as they rush out of the dugout to reinforce the honor guard. They're still badly outnumbered, but they quickly move into formation, pulling knives and crossbows as they advance on the Vistrians.

For a while, it looks like they might hold their own, crossbow bolts flying into the enemy in a deadly spray. The feral alphas are taller and more thickly muscled than ordinary soldiers, with sloping foreheads and bulging jaws, but they're not immune to bullets or blades. If they're hit anywhere other than their armor, they go down, but they're fast for their size, and once they reach the Trap Team, they're ruthless, tearing arms off as they snap the crossbows like twigs.

I watch with my heart in my throat until Manson waves the rest of the team back. More soldiers are coming from somewhere, this time bearing the Civin States' flag on their vests. York is amongst them, Crow at his shoulder, and I look around for Law but can't see him through the crowd. More than anything I want to go find him, but I'm still a mercy. People are being torn apart in front of my eyes, and while I can't heal the worst of them, I can patch up minor injuries until reinforcements arrive.

Decision made, I start climbing over the seats, heading for the field. I'm almost halfway down when there's another booming explosion, this time tearing through the stadium wall. The concrete stand buckles under my feet, rock and steel groaning as the main entrance caves in. I grab the seat in front of me to steady myself, but other people are climbing up the chairs now, and I'm knocked onto the floor. I scramble up before I'm trampled, pushing a panting alpha aside as he claws at my vest. Blind panic shines from his eyes, and I duck out of his way before he can lunge for my weapons. He staggers off, moaning gibberish, and I look down at the young girl who was behind him, her eyes dazed as blood drips from her head.

I don't try to console her, grabbing her cold face in my hands and breathing into her mouth. She blinks, color staining her cheeks as my power settles, and I wrestle a crossbow bolt from the clip on my vest. "Take this. If anyone gets in your way, jab them with it."

She trembles, but her little hand grips it tightly as she climbs over the next chair. I force myself not to watch, steeling my spine as I clamber over the next row of chairs towards the field.

"Cutter!" My head snaps up and I leap around a weeping woman to search for Travis. He's standing outside the dugout with the twins, their chests heaving as they search for me. I croak out their names, and despite the chaos around us, their heads whip in my direction. I scramble over the final row of seats, almost falling into Travis' arms. He hugs me so tight. I can feel his heart hammering through my vest. "Jane!" He lifts me off my feet, the twins' hands on my back as Travis breathes into my neck. "Baby. Thank fuck we found you."

"Guys," I almost sob, pulling the twins into the huddle. "It's crazy out here! There are feral alphas, and all these explosions going off…"

"We have to go," Avery says grimly as he consults his tablet. "As soon as they clear that rubble away, another battalion is going to come pouring through that hole."

He nods towards the entrance where a few Vistrian soldiers are already filtering through weapons at the ready. "But where are our reinforcements?"

"They took out both the Tube and the troop depot." Drew tells me, cupping my face like he's not sure I'm real. "They knew what they were doing, attacking when everyone was distracted by the game. Now they're just picking off the prime targets."

I twist in Travis' arms, searching the opposite side of the stadium. "What about Law? He was here with his family."

"He's protected," Travis says in a soothing voice. "His father brought his own security."

"Yes, but Law and his sister were on their own…"

Travis shakes his head, his gaze dark with storm clouds. "Baby, we have to focus on getting you out now. We'll take you to the car in the woods." He exchanges a quick smirk with the twins. "No one's going to have time to look for us until it's too late."

Avery nods, but Travis' eyes widen as he looks over my head. I spin around, expecting to see a feral alpha advancing on us, but there are two soldiers standing there, staring back at Travis with wide grins. "Hello, little bro." I feel him stiffen behind me as realization sinks in. Even though they're wearing United Armed Front uniforms, they look so much like him, they can only be his brothers, Kieran and Samuel. "This shitstorm makes good cover, but it won't last. Reinforcements are on their way from Ass End." The older of the two grips Travis' shoulder. "Just keep your head down and we'll take care of the rest."

I glance up at Travis, but his eyes are narrowed to slits. "Are you fucking kidding me? Get the hell out of here. We have our own exit plan."

His brothers exchange a quick glance, then look down at me, clutched in Travis' arms. "We can't take any freeloaders."

I scowl at that – not exactly sure what about my appearance makes them dismiss me so easily – but Travis just clutches me tighter. "I won't tell you again. Fuck off. We don't need you."

Except that there's still a campus full of enemies between them and freedom. "Wait," I grab Travis' t-shirt, trying to drag his furious eyes down to mine. "Maybe you should…"

"Shit!" Drew lurches forward suddenly, knocking me out of Travis' arms. I spin around to steady him, but his face is white with shock, his legs collapsing under him. Avery tries to catch his twin, but blood is pulsing from a bullet hole in Drew's left thigh and they both tumble to the ground. Ice burns through my blood at the size of the wound, but I don't hesitate to drop at their side.

"Avery, lift his leg! Hold him steady." He quickly obeys, and I look up at Travis. "Go with your brothers. I'll heal Drew, but it's going to take time."

"I'm not leaving you!" Travis growls, dropping to his knees beside me. "What do you need me to do?"

"Hold him. This is going to hurt." The power is already leaking out of me, but so is Drew's life, blood pumping from his femoral artery in terrifying spurts. I'm vaguely aware of Travis' brothers arguing over our heads, but I tune out everything except for Drew's pale face. "Sweetheart, you need to brace yourself."

"Just do it, Jane!" he begs through gritted teeth. "I trust you, Mercy."

I nod, cupping his cheeks, trying to ignore how cold his skin already feels against my palms. I tilt his mouth to mine, his citrus scent buried under the tang of copper. But I gently brush the curls from his forehead as I seal our lips together, digging into my power with everything in me. I don't know if it's feeding off my fear, but it comes pouring out of me like a feral animal. Drew's body jerks, the guys panting as they try to hold him still. But he couldn't fight me off if he wanted to, my power hunting down the bullet that's shredded his artery and expelling it from his body. I have some hazy awareness of the crumpled metal bursting out of his wound a moment before the skin seals over.

"What the fuck?" A strange alpha scent rolls over me as Kieran bends close to look at the wound. "Did she just undo a bullet wound?"

"Step the fuck back!" Travis fumes, but Kieran pulls a gun from his belt and points it at my head.

"She's too valuable to shoot, but I'll do it if you fight me," he tells Travis. "Now get to your fucking feet and fall in line."

I pull my mouth off Drew, grabbing Avery's hand as I feel the cold metal of the gun against the back of my scalp. "I've stopped the bleeding, but he's going to be in a lot of pain. Get him to the woods and don't look back."

He knows what I mean; take the car and find a safe place where he can recuperate. But he shoots me an agonized glance as he drags Drew to his feet. "This is wrong."

I look at Travis, who's an inch away from strangling his brothers with his bare hands. "We'll catch up."

Avery gives a stiff nod, then turns his menacing stare on Travis' brothers. "You better hide, you fuckers, because I'm going to come looking. And there's nowhere deep or dark enough where I won't find you."

"Knock yourself out," Samuel drawls, but Kieran punches his arm, grabbing Travis while Samuel holds me. They start to march us towards the nearest exit when a high, girlish scream has my head whipping around. On the exact opposite side of the stadium, Law's delicate sister is dangling over the shoulder of a feral alpha, so limp she looks like she's dead. Law is clawing at the soldier, his face a mask of rage. Other feral alphas surround them, and I see a Vistrian officer in their midst. He's clearly giving orders, and when Law lunges at him, one of the feral alphas brings up an elbow and hammers it into his face. Law drops, unmoving, until the soldier stoops and swings him over his shoulder.

"Law!" I scream, lurching towards him, but Samuel hauls me back. My knife is in my hand before I can think about it, and I slice the blade across his knuckles, exactly like Manson did to his dad. It gets the same result, and I spring away, only to turn back at Travis' desperate howl.

He's fighting his brother with everything in him, and I want to drop to my knees and beg them not to hurt him. But if I give in now, Law is lost. If I can just get to Manson, he might help me go after the feral alphas and get him back.

"Shoot him up," Kieran says with a frustrated grimace, his thick forearm wedged across Travis' throat. "We're not getting him out of here without it. "

I stare at him in horror until Samuel pulls out a syringe and plunges it into Travis' neck. I'm staring into his stormy eyes, and I see the moment the light goes out of them. As he slumps in his brother's arms, I feel the break in our connection like a knife to the heart. "That better not hurt him," I snarl, "or Avery's right. There's nowhere you can hide from us."

Maybe it's an empty threat, but Kieran gives me a curt nod while Samuel flashes a wide grin. "Don't worry, Mercy. You're now on our radar, too."

I grind my teeth as he snaps off a mocking salute and takes Travis' other side, slinging his limp arm around his shoulders. Everything in me screams to leap forward and tear him from their hold, but I force myself to watch them drag him away, all my fury turning to grief.

Drew is hurt, Avery's gone, Law is at the mercy of the enemy, and now Travis is in the hands of the Crimson Claw Rebellion.

Despair claws at me, my lungs aching with the stink of blood and death.

For all my power, for all my ability to heal near-mortal wounds, how did I lose everything I care about, and the battle still isn't done?

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