Omega Bound Chapter 271

Raven

I kept my knife ready, heart hammering, as Mikhail followed closely behind, rifle clutched tightly in his hands. Each room we passed was sealed, doors locked with keypads or reinforced steel. The smell of chemicals and sterility was oppressive, and my gut twisted with anticipation. Ayla had to be here. She had to.

We hit the first door. I punched the keypad with my fist, it sparked as I shoved it open and swept the room with lethal speed.

Empty. My fingers flexed around the knife hilt, muscles coiling, adrenaline screaming in my veins. Next door. Same. Mikhail muttered under his breath, “Labs are always sectioned off. They move subjects for efficiency… maybe she’s deeper in the wing.”

I didn’t reply. Each empty room was another spike of fury driving through my chest. My claws itched, my teeth bared, and my mind flashed with images of Ayla helpless, caged, probably terrified. I slammed my shoulder into another door hiding an empty room. I turned to Mikhail, voice low and deadly.

“Where the hell did you lead me?” I hissed. “Every second we spend down here is wasted. You'd better start talking.”

His hands raised, steady on the rifle. “Raven, I didn’t know for certain, but logically, this is where she would be. If Eric wants to run tests on her, it would be in the lower labs. It’s the most reasonable place to start.”

I ground my teeth, my eyes narrowing, but I knew he was right. Still… wrong feels like failure when Ayla’s life is at stake. I tore open the next door, only to find sterile tables and empty restraints. My hands shook in frustration. I could feel the pulse of my mate, Cyrus, far off in the chaos outside, and I ached with the need to fight beside him.

“Enough!” I snarled, spinning toward Mikhail as more guards poured into the hall from an intersecting corridor. They had guns raised, eyes wide in shock when they saw me, but it didn’t matter. I was faster, stronger, and deadlier.

I charged, a blur of motion. The first guard’s rifle barely cleared before my fist connected with his throat, snapping it with a wet crunch. The next swung at me, and I caught his wrist, twisting until bone screamed beneath skin, then used my momentum to slam him into the wall. Blood sprayed across the walls, red streaks painting the sterile concrete. Mikhail opened fire, each shot precise, bringing down a guard trying to flank us from the far end.

I grabbed a knife from the belt of a falling enemy, twisting it into the next one with brutal efficiency. Each movement was a violent rhythm, a savage dance I’d perfected. The basement smelled of iron and terror, and I didn’t pause to breathe. My eyes flicked to Mikhail as he swapped rifles from a dead shifter, hands steady, then back to the hallway. We had to keep moving. Ayla couldn’t wait.

After clearing the last room in that wing, my fists clenched around the knife handle, knuckles slick with blood. Empty again. Rage flared hot in my chest.

“Empty!” I spat, spinning on Mikhail. “You led me down here. All this… all this.... Where the hell is she?”

He shook his head, voice steady. “I told you. It made sense to check here first.”

I glared, breathing hard, but my mind raced with options. We couldn’t waste more time. I tore my gaze from him and motioned up the concrete stairwell. “Then we go back up. We find a map. Somewhere, there has to be a facility layout. That’s the only way to narrow this search.”

We ascended the stairs, echoing under our boots. Each step was tense; every flicker of shadow could mean another guard lying in wait. I kept the knife raised, Mikhail providing cover with his rifle. We neared a small security room on the lobby floor. Mikhail started scanning the terminals while I peered out into the corridor.

The alarms hadn’t stopped, and the first wave of guards appeared like a tide. I didn’t hesitate. I barreled into the nearest one, slamming him into a wall, the knife slicing across his side. Another charged me, fists swinging. He met my forearm, bones snapping, teeth sinking into his shoulder. Blood coated my hands and face, but I barely noticed. I was a storm of steel and claws, unstoppable.

Mikhail fired methodically, picking off the guards closing in from angles I couldn’t cover. The sounds of gunfire and screams mingled with the alarms, a chaotic symphony of death as we carved a path through the lobby. My mind flashed again to Cyrus, to Ayla. My hands itched to end this faster, every fiber of me screaming that Ayla’s life, and her pup, was worth more than anything.

We finally reached the security room. Mikhail shot the lock off and bolted inside, looking for anything that could help narrow down a location.

A sudden, blaring crash echoed through the building. My head snapped toward the noise. Blue paint. Screeching tires. Pop music blasting. My stomach dropped.

Rhonda?

The little blue car came tearing through the lobby, smashing tables and chairs as it barreled straight for me. Before I could react, the car slammed into me, throwing me against the windshield. I snarled as she kept the accelerator down. The car jumped a pile of debris, crushing the first wave of guards in its path.

I dug my knife into the hood, slashing, trying to get her attention and hold on as she continued driving. “Rhonda! What the hell are you doing?!” Shots rang from the car, guards dropping dead as the car continued its assault through the lobby.

Her she-wolf friends send out waves of bullets and one holds up a grenade. Oh shit.

“Rhonda!”

But Rhonda never answered. She swerved through the lobby, plowing past desks, machinery, and anything in her way. The music thumped louder, the chaos ringing in my ears. Rhonda’s determination was unstoppable, her car like a battering ram, and every second we survived this assault was another second closer to finding Ayla.

The car whipped around, almost flinging me from the hood before it barreled back through the hole it made in the building, leaving Mikhail somewhere in the carnage as it carried me outside. I clung to the hood, knife ready, blood and sweat mixing on my skin. Outside hit me like a tidal wave of chaos. Burning vehicles, bodies, shifters locked in furious combat, and the sounds of snarls, gunfire, and shattering metal filled the air.

I spotted him through the smoke and chaos despite the downpour, and for a fraction of a second, everything else vanished. Cyrus was a whirlwind of fangs and fists, moving with a precision and rage that made the ground tremble beneath him. His eyes caught mine for the briefest instant, sharp and blazing with fury, and something in my chest twisted with relief and raw desire. The mate bond flared back to life, the overwhelming relief I felt slamming into me through the bond stole my breath.

He was alive, he was fighting, and he was mine. The carnage around him, guards screaming, shifters tearing through each other, flames licking the edges of vehicles, didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Cyrus was there, standing tall in the storm, and every instinct in me screamed to get to him, to fight beside him.

Thane moved like a predator unleashed. He tore through anyone foolish enough to stand in his way. He stood in a pool of blood, his face was a mask of fury and focus, teeth bared in a snarl that promised death. Even in the midst of this chaos, he was unstoppable, a force of sheer violence cutting a path through enemy forces.

I felt a rush of adrenaline at the sight, a mix of awe and fear, knowing that with Thane and Cyrus moving like this, nothing or no one could hold us back, and in the middle of it all, the blue car shot me forward, cutting through debris as though nothing could stop it.

My pulse spiked, eyes wide, adrenaline screaming. Every second counted, every strike mattered. My fangs bared, rifle fire ringing behind me, and my heart thumped with one thought above all: save Ayla, survive the chaos, and bring her out alive.