Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-Two

RONAN

I f this were any other situation where another alpha was staring at my omega like she was his salvation, I might rip his throat out. I have more pressing concerns than Beckett right now, and it comes in many fucking forms.

Obviously, the gun digging into the back of Freya's head is the main one. Next is figuring out how to keep my entire pack alive, especially now that we're right in the center of a damn showdown.

I'm a teacher for fuck's sake. I am absolutely not cut out for weapons flying about and threats being thrown every which way.

What I can do, though, is use my brain to understand the look on Freya's pale face. Her platinum locks stick to the skin of her arms all the way past her elbows, but her beautiful hair doesn't hide the shift of her weight.

A couple yards away and completely tuned in on my omega, I watch her jaw clench and her pupils shrink. My alpha side feels like it's pacing back and forth, nudging her towards feral territory with subtle thumps down the mating bond.

Even being smart enough to decipher the instinctual state of my omega doesn't help me stop what happens next. Casey must notice what I've already seen, and it's like his gasp triggers the string of events.

Everything happens so fast.

My foot slaps the ground just as Freya's vicious little teeth latch onto Ken's wrist with a throaty snarl that turns gurgly as blood explodes into her mouth.

"FREYA!" Her name explodes from my mouth just as the bullet cracks from the barrel of Ken's gun beside her head.

CRACK!

BOOM!

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

"NO! No, no, no," I keep repeating even as Ken's body crashes to the ground and my star stays kneeling.

I barely hear Elliott's panicked cry over the fear roaring through my ears as we rush to Freya. "Ray! Shit, is she hurt?!"

That , I register.

Mud sprays every which way as four sets of knees hit the ground beside our girl. Elliott and I take control, checking her shaking body for injury, which proves difficult with all the blood and dirt covering her small frame.

"Freya, sweetheart, look at me please," Lucas begs, his voice wobbling while tilting her head away from Ken's dead body on the ground.

Then I realize... the first crack was his bullet, and the final four boom s of the OPS guns were the bullets currently embedded in Ken's forehead, matching his dead enforcers.

Rot in hell, motherfucker .

"Oh fuck," Casey gasps, drawing my attention to where he's gathering Freya's hair over her left shoulder. "Her ear. Oh god, she's bleeding."

Then I smell it. Beyond the horrid scent of Ken's blood covering my girl, is her much sweeter and more terrifying essence.

Elliott stiffens beside me, a menacing growl I've heard too many times lately vibrating in the space between us. Lucas gasps, then helps Casey gather all her hair so I can take a look.

Pride blooms in my chest for how strong my pack is being for our omega. We know she hit her head hard on that godforsaken death ride, so there's a possibility of severe damage. And yet, we work quickly to give me a better view while Elliott keeps an eye on our surroundings.

I ignore the blood dripping from her smirking lips and the way her eyes are locked on the dead man's mangled wrist. Instead, I tilt her neck to the side and check her ear.

Fighting my alpha urge to throw her over my shoulder and demand someone fix her, I touch my finger to the spot, only for another drop to roll out of her ear.

I lean back and the other two do as well, while still petting her hair. Making eye contact with them and Elliott next to me, I miss when my omega's eyelids flutter. I miss the clear sign that she's about to collapse, and the guys are so invested in hearing what I have to say that they don't catch her when she falls either.

"Fuck!" I choke out, reaching for her prone form and hollering for help.

Beckett's voice joins an array of others, but his frantic plea for information goes ignored in favor of Mr. Peters yelling for us to get in the fucking car . He says something about a helicopter and a landing spot to retrieve us, but I'm focused on my malnourished, bleeding omega in my arms as I settle into the bench seat of the big truck.

"Is she okay?"

"She's going to be fine. Right Ronan?"

"Is it over? It's over right? We're free?"

More questions and murmuring. Hands caressing Star's bruised and dirty arms. Bumps in the rough terrain jostle her, but I hold tight.

I hold her, never taking my eyes off her face painted in the blood of her enemies, even through the chaotic whirring of getting into the helicopter.

Freya looks like a warrior who went to battle. A warrior fucking queen who has survived more than anyone ever should. She's the strongest person I've ever known. This little omega persevered while her mates bumbled their way after her trying to be her saviors.

Freya, our omega, is a queen who has proven time and time again that she doesn't actually need us, but I'll be damned if I don't fight for a spot to worship at her feet.