Chapter 2

Ezra

The sizzling energy that always accompanied change intensified as I analyzed the competing units.

A firm hand came down on my shoulder and dragged me into a familiar chest. "Maybe a little softer on the glare."

"What for? This is a competition, remember?" I scoffed at Valor's easy smile—a placating gesture meant to put others at ease.

I had to admit it worked with unparalleled efficiency. It hid the Enforcer's threatening aura and convinced people to let down their guard. As useful as it was, I didn't have the time or social skills for it.

"Still, it might be better for the others to assume we aren't as serious as them," Korren said in his matter-of-fact way.

As the head healer in our pack, Korren kept his cards close to his chest, preferring to work with facts instead of rapidly changing emotions. Even so, his shoulders were stiff, and his gaze was sharper than usual.

We were all upset to find out that the Council had been using their power to manipulate the sanctioned packs and abuse young Omegas. As a male dedicated to healing and caring for the weak, Korren had taken this more personally than others.

Obnoxious laughter rumbled through the room, and I rolled my eyes, striding toward our designated table. Like all the other Council-owned buildings, the Hunt Headquarters was a giant metal fortress. I could hear the gears turning in the security cameras and the faint click of locks opening and closing. I could even hear the static from hidden mics and communication devices. They were undoubtedly armed to the teeth, ready to lock down at the first sign of danger.

If they were smart, they'd know it was only a matter of time before someone found out about the sick shit they were up to and decided to do something about it.

That was the exact reason we were here, after all.

As we took our seats, I glanced at the walls, deciding where to drop off my nano-hackers. I created the tiny infiltration devices a few years back, and we used them to break into closed networks. Alpha Wynn had given the order to bug the place while we had access to the building.

"I'd be surprised if anyone in this room has more than two brain cells to rub together," I said, wrinkling my nose at the scent of barely contained arousal.

Valor bit back a chuckle. Tendrils of blond hair slipped out of the band at the nape of his neck as he shook his head ruefully.

"Who do we choose if our mate isn't among the Omegas?" Korren asked, taking slow, methodical sips of his water.

It seemed everyone in this room was edging toward a mating frenzy—a side effect of having so many virile males this close to fertile Omegas.

A frenzy was a biological occurrence that befell mature male shifters. It happened when we were exposed to females approaching their heat. During this time, our baser natures took over, and males grew bigger, stronger, and more aggressive.

Fights occurred at the drop of a hat, and only the most self-contained males had a hope of defusing their urges for any amount of time.

"We let our wolves decide," Valor replied. "The mission comes first. As nice as it would be to find her, our chances are slim. We have to remember why we're here."

Korren and I nodded. We'd spent the previous five days with our Alpha unit, going over how we would proceed in both cases. It was more probable that we would be taking home a chosen Omega.

Korren's fist clenched around his glass, and I knew we were fighting the same battle.

It was the battle that had raged within us ever since we discovered a fated mate was possible. The Goddess hadn't abandoned us like the Council wanted us to believe.

"How long are these old bastards going to take?" someone moaned. "It's a Hunt, not a fucking seminar."

"They're probably using it as a power play," Valor said, shrugging his massive shoulders. "Showing us who's running the show."

"Assholes. Do they think we don't know that by now? They pretty much have every pack by the balls with their hold on the Omegas."

"Yes, but this is their last opportunity to flex their power," Korren drawled. "After today, most of these units will barely interact with them."

The male seemed to think on Korren's words, and I took the opportunity to signal to Valor.

With a faint nod, he asked Korren if he wanted anything from the buffet table before we strolled toward the spread.

"Three sets of eyes. Twelve, two, and nine," he breathed in a voice so low even my advanced shifter hearing struggled to catch it.

We filled our plates, making our way from one end of the table to the other. Stuffing a hand in my pocket, I tucked a nano-hacker between my fingers and waited for Valor to accidentally drop a bottle of water.

"Shit," he hissed, loud enough for the guards to hear.

"I got it," I said.

Goddess, the fucker is good at this. I don't give him enough credit.

Valor managed to drop the bottle right next to a vent behind the table. I slid the nano-hacker between the metal slats and grabbed the water before standing.

Phase one: complete.

***

An hour later, we all fell silent as three men in long purple robes positioned themselves at the front of the room. My wolf growled as Councilman Raza stepped forward and clasped his hands behind his back, surveying the crowd.

His dimpled face shone with barely contained delight at the sight of our agitation. Some males were hardly able to remain in their seats. Despite his veneer of cool indifference, I saw the cogs turning in his mind as he considered the best way to approach us.

Odd.

Something is wrong, my wolf warned.

I had to agree.

It was supposed to be a standard Hunt, but the careful way Councilman Raza inspected us set off my internal alarm system. My wolf brushed against my skin, conveying his distaste for the older shifter.

My eyes met Korren's, and our bond flared with tension. Valor shifted closer, readying himself for what was to come.

"Thank you all for joining us in this spring's Hunt," Raza said, his voice absent of inflection. "As you all know, we gather eligible units to participate in this claiming ceremony four times a year. It is the Council's privilege to create unions that will save us from the extinction the Black War foretold."

The Black War was a battle between witches and shifters nearly one hundred and fifty years ago. A group of black witches tried to enslave shifters, and our ancestors fought back, resulting in years of bloodshed. At the end of the war, the witches cursed the shifters, making all shifter females barren. The Goddess then blessed shifter Omegas with fertility to counteract the curse.

The second and oldest councilman, Councilman Dario, approached the dais and pressed a button. A large projector screen began to descend from the ceiling.

"Are they giving a presentation?" Valor whispered.

"Seems unlikely," Korren replied. "What's there to explain? They run, we chase. Done."

What are they doing?

"This season, the Hunt will be a little different," Councilman Raza announced.

A chill snaked down my spine as the males in the room made sounds of displeasure.

The blank screen lit up, leaving us with more questions than answers as Councilman Raza continued. "There is a special prize among our Omegas. One of our females is participating in the Hunt for the fourth time."

An image appeared on the screen as the units murmured to each other.

What the hell?

The Council never revealed the Omegas prior to the Hunt. Why had they changed the rules?

I returned my attention to the projector after exchanging glances with my unit. The Omega on the screen reminded me of warm cinnamon and sunlight. Her bronze skin and honey-colored eyes glowed as if she were in the room with us.

My attraction was instant, and my wolf took notice, pushing against my skin to get a closer look.

"How is that possible?" one male asked.

"What's wrong with her?" asked another. "There has to be something off about her if no other unit has claimed her."

His theory spread like wildfire, and the room filled with voices.

"Quiet," Councilman Raza boomed. "There is no need for alarm. Brielle Davis is an extraordinary Omega. In fact, she is the only Omega to make it through the forest with her collar intact."

"She won," Korren said.

Shock and intrigue replaced the accusations that slipped from the males' tongues like blades.

At its inception, the Council pitched the Hunt as an adaptive and voluntary ceremony. Though every Omega had to enter, they told all the sanctioned packs that Omegas could refuse to be claimed if they made it to the end of the Hunt. They told us they would have a choice after they performed their duty.

It was another way the Council pushed the illusion of compassion for Omegas and the shifter race as a whole.

We thought it was another of their lies. I stared at the picture of the Omega, newfound respect filling the space between my ribs. The female had outmaneuvered countless males who undoubtedly had years more experience than she did. It was impressive.

But if the rule existed, why didn't more Omegas take advantage of it?

Based on what our Alpha's mate told us about the Omega boarding houses, I was sure more would want to cash in on this loophole.

Something wasn't adding up.

Councilman Raza's cold eyes landed on Korren, and Valor—protective to a fault—shifted closer.

"Not once but three times," Raza growled. "She is quick, smart, and crafty enough to outwit three seasons of highly trained males."

He paused, gazing out at the sea of units with faux pride. "I'm sure the males in this Hunt will prove better than their successors." He clasped his arms behind his back as he walked the length of the room. "This little Omega will finally meet her match."

A chorus of snarls and howls broke out, and I fought to hide my disgust.

He was baiting them.

Putting a target on her back.

Councilman Raza held up his hands. "Let's see which of our sanctioned units will win this prize. Now, prepare yourselves. The Hunt will take place in fifteen minutes. May the best unit win."

No dominant male could refuse the challenge Council Raza had issued. The units were hungry to prove they could claim such a wild Omega and were equally eager to best the other packs.

Though shifters were one in theory, no one could deny the competitiveness between individual packs. Strength was everything for shifters, and a pack was only as strong as its weakest member.

After the Black War, things changed within our communities. Instead of the frequent feuds between packs for territory and revenge, old hatred was hidden beneath a veneer. Now, we challenged each other more subtly. The Hunt was one of the ways we established the unspoken social pecking order. The faster a unit claimed an Omega, the more skilled their pack was thought to be.

And to claim an Omega such as this one . . . no unit could resist the opportunity to raise their status.

Valor, Korren, and I glanced at each other, a silent understanding passing between us.

She was ours.