Omega Bound Chapter 265

Raven

They circled me, six black silhouettes, rifles and batons at the ready, boots pounding the tile in a rigid rhythm. I crouched low, teeth flashing, muscles coiled, pulse thrumming with the hum of my gift. The tension was electric, delicious, a predator staring down its prey. Only they didn’t know they were already prey.

I moved before they could react. A blur. I spun low, ducking a gun, slamming my elbow into a rib, feeling the satisfying crunch. He doubled over, coughing blood, staggering into another guard who barely had time to brace before my knee slammed into his chest with bone-crushing force. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, staggering into the wall.

The circle tried to tighten, forming a net. I ricocheted off the floor and wall, flipping midair, driving fists into the temples of two guards simultaneously. One’s jaw split open, teeth scattered, blood spraying across the tiles. The other grabbed his stomach where I’d shattered ribs, groaning, blood seeping through torn fabric.

I grinned, feral, manic. I was everywhere.

A guard swung a baton from behind; I ducked under, pivoting to drive a knee into his kidneys. He collapsed, gasping, clutching the wound.

Another lunged with a rifle. I caught the barrel mid-swing, twisting it into his stomach, sending him staggering into a metal table. The table cracked, equipment and glass flying everywhere. I jumped off the debris, spinning to land on another, elbows smashing into his chestplate, ribs breaking beneath my relentless speed.

I laughed, low and guttural, a sound of pure psychotic delight. Blood sprayed the walls, coating my arms, streaking the floor. I pivoted again, hammer-fisting the side of a guard’s head until his helmet dented and cracked. He crumpled, unconscious, a trickle of blood running from his temple.

Two guards tried to flank me from opposite sides. Mistake. I darted between them like water, twisting, slamming shoulders into ribs, driving elbows into faces, teeth snapping near necks. They screamed, blood pumping from split lips and broken noses.

I grabbed one’s wrist mid-punch, twisted it until the snap of bone echoed. Another swung a baton, and I ducked low, flipping under it and slamming my knee into his stomach. He doubled over, ribs snapping audibly, blood streaking from his mouth. I vaulted off the floor, spinning to land on the last guard, hammer-fisting his chest and jaw in a blur of motion. He screamed, staggering, collapsing into a toppled table. Glass and blood sprayed the tiles like rain.

The remaining guards tried desperately to recover. Perfect. I ricocheted off the wall, slamming my shoulder into one, driving him into a table laden with medical equipment. Tubes snapped, metal containers shattered, and glass exploded across the floor, cutting his arms and chest. I twisted, driving a knee into the small of his back, cracking ribs, making him collapse face-first into the debris. His scream was music.

Another guard raised a rifle. I blurred past him, grabbing the barrel and twisting, slamming him into the wall. His helmet cracked, blood oozing from the gaps. I ducked a baton swing, pivoted behind him, and drove my elbow into his skull until he crumpled. The room was chaos incarnate: broken glass, overturned tables, dented armor, blood pooling in the tiles, guards screaming, groaning, barely clinging to consciousness.

I leapt into the air, spinning, landing atop a groaning guard, fists smashing into his chest and face. His jaw snapped to the side, teeth scattering. I grabbed a nearby metal tray and swung it into another, denting armor, breaking ribs, and making blood spray in arcs across the floor. The air smelled of iron and adrenaline, intoxicating, fueling my every move.

I ducked under a wild swing, flipped off the floor, landing behind two guards. My fists hammered into the kidneys and ribs of one, cracking bone, making him buckle, and I pivoted to drive an elbow into the temple of the other, splitting skin, sending blood across the tiles. They staggered, panicked, and I spun, kicking a table into the remaining one, crushing his legs, pinning him as I drove a fist into his chestplate again and again. Blood spattered everywhere.

By now, five guards were incapacitated, bleeding, groaning, some barely conscious. One still struggled, trying to flee. Mistake. I blurred across the room, fists and knees smashing ribs and skull, elbows snapping teeth, teeth biting at shoulders, arms, and helmets where I could reach. I grabbed a toppled chair, swinging it like a club, sending him sprawling across the room, a trail of blood following him like a ribbon.

I crouched low, chest heaving, muscles vibrating with my gift. The room was a nightmare: shattered glass, broken tables, dented armor, and blood slick across the floor. Guards lay broken, mangled, barely alive. And I was at the center of it all, heart racing, eyes gold and wild, grin feral and unhinged.

“Come back,” I hissed, voice low, vibrating with psychotic joy.

I blurred again, moving faster than thought, a hurricane of fists, knees, elbows, and sheer speed. Bones snapped, teeth broke, blood sprayed, cries echoed, and the remaining guard went down hard, gasping, bleeding, trapped by his own desperation.

I was speed. I was chaos. I was psychotic. I was Raven.

And nothing will keep me from my Luna or my mate.

I turn toward Ayla's father's cell. His eyes are bugged out of his head as he points at the mess I made. He looks back at me, rapidly blinking, and then to the mess again. "Ugh...y-you...umm...can you let me out of here?" He stutters over his words.

"You will just get in my way. I'm going to find Ayla."

Mikhail stepped closer, hands raised, fingertips glowing faintly with that soft, pulsating light. “I didn’t know she was in the ring,” he said, voice tight. “If I had… I would have gotten out. I can heal her. I can keep her alive.”

I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms. “You can’t heal her if you’re dead, Mikhail.” My voice was sharp, cold. “That makes you a liability."

He shook his head, glowing fingertips pulsating as he stepped closer. “I know the stakes. I know the risks. But the poison is leaving my system. Every moment, I get stronger. Faster. Harder to take down. I will heal her. I will fight.”

I pressed harder, stepping toward him, voice firm. “You’re not invincible, Mikhail. Your powers mean nothing if you get killed trying to be a hero. Keeping you alive isn’t optional; it’s mandatory, because if you die, there’s no one left to heal her. That’s the calculus you’re ignoring. Right now, you’re the liability, not the solution.”

"Please, let Ayla decide if she wants me in her life, but at least give her that chance to decide." Her father pleads with me from his cell. Every second we waste arguing is one more second she's in danger.

"Fine, back the hell up. If you die, you die." I place my hand on the glass as I did before and will my power of speed to break the glass of his cell. The glass smashes in toward him as he raises his arms for cover from the corner of the cell.

"I'll live," he states, shaking out of the shards.

"Let's move."