Anarchy Found (SuperAlpha, #1)(78)

“Don’t f*ck it up, dude.”

Thomas shoots me a smile. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.”

The ceiling opens up, just as Sheila gets the ’copter running. Thomas pushes the bike up the ramp and secures it in the cargo area, and I follow him in. Case sits in the pilot’s seat even though Sheila will be in control once we reach city airspace, and Thomas shrugs a black pack over his jacket and vest.

I sit back in my seat and imagine how f*cking good it will be to finally end this shit once and for all. Case lifts us up into the night sky and then the underground bunker closes back up, sealing my cave from the world.

I’m coming for you, Old Man. Can you feel me?

As soon as we clear the mountains the crystal spire beckons to us. It’s lit up from the inside. And I know, no matter what happens, this is the end of something.

“He made us,” I say over the intercom. “And he’s gonna live to regret that.”

I can see Case’s reflection in the windshield as he pilots the ’copter. “Let’s go hunt us some boar,” he says.

“We’re in this till the end,” Thomas says. “And if we go down tonight, we’re going down together.”





Chapter Forty-Nine - Molly




“Omega Three, open your eyes.” The command pierces my brain and brings an intense pain with it. “Omega Three, open your eyes.”

I try, I really do, but nothing is cooperating. Where am I? Why do I feel this way?

“Omega Three, open your eyes.” It’s a computer voice.

But then there’s another. “Do you remember who you are?”

“Molly,” I mumble.

“No, Omega Three. You were never Molly. It’s a fake name for a fake life. A life that someone gave you. Who was that?”

“Lincoln Wade,” I say, my throat so dry it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

“Put her back under. She’s not ready.”

The stabbing pain is back in my head. It feels like fingers digging into my brain and ripping out my very essence. “Please,” I say.

“‘Please, more,’ is all I hear, Omega Three. Who gave you a new life?”

I know it’s Lincoln, but that’s the wrong answer. And those stabbing fingers will squeeze me until there’s nothing left. I need to keep what I have left. I need to hold on and survive. So I try a new name. “Crazy Bill,” I say as images of my father pop into my head.

This time there is no warning. My head feels like it will split in half.

“Stop!” I scream. “Stop!”

I run all the people who gave me a new life over and over in my head and they come tumbling out of my mouth in a stream of desperation. “Will, my mother, the school—”

The pain eases just the tiniest bit, but I grab on to it and hold fast. “The school,” I say again. “Prodigy School.” The pressure begins building again, letting me know I’m close, but not on target. “Please!” I scream. “Please, please, please!” But the pain increases with every word. Every second that passes that I fail to find the answer, the agony builds until I want to claw my eyes out.

“You!” I finally say.

The pain stops immediately and I start sobbing.

“Who, Omega Three?”

“You,” I sputter through my sobs. “You did. You saved me.”

“Hmmmm,” the Old Man hums against my ear. I let out a shiver, and then a shriek, as the pain comes back. “You don’t seem sincere, Omega Three. You better convince me.”

The pain starts all over again. And no matter how hard I try to make him believe he is my savior, he is only satisfied when the blackness overtakes me.

And then there is light.

Beautiful pain. Glorious suffering. Exquisite agony.

I am in eternal hell, but it feels like poetry.

He is convinced.





“Who are you?” the voice asks again.

“Omega Three,” I say. My voice is dull and robotic. But the pain is finally gone.

“Who saved you, Omega Three?”

“You did, Father.”

“That’s right,” he coos next to my ear. I know I should feel repulsed. But I don’t. He truly is my savior and I want nothing more than to please him forever and ever and ever. “You’ve earned this, Omega.” He places a golden lariat in my hands. It’s thin and snake-like, coiling in on itself like a living thing. There are sharp prongs spaced every few inches and the prong tips are razor sharp. “Collar him, Omega. Collar your Alpha and kill the others.”

“Sir.” An unfamiliar voice breaks into my subdued thoughts. “The database has been accessed and a helicopter has been spotted entering the city airspace.”

“A helicopter,” my father says, clapping his hands together so close to my ear, I startle. He lays a hand on my shoulder and whispers, “Sorry, Omega Three. But it’s all so unexpectedly heroic. Will he save you, Omega Three?”

“I don’t need saving,” I say back.

“Oh, you’re almost perfect, Omega Three. So close to perfect. All you have left to do is kill Daddy’s enemies.” My father pets my hair like I’m a dog and it feels so good. I just want to please him. Forever and ever and ever.