Broken Angel: The Complete Collection: A Dark Omegaverse Romance

by Penelope Woods

  “Severin talks to you? Down here?” Killian asks.

  The clone takes another step back, turning her head to view the rows of glowing computers and spinning lights. “His plan is to kill Ruby before taking the queen as his own. He will use you alphas as scapegoats. Then, he will dismantle the New Republic and replace it with the old ways, killing anyone who stands in his way. All of Cassian’s facilities are still intact. He will imprison her there, once more. The cloning programs will continue.”

  “There is so much more that you’re not telling me,” he says.

  But Killian knows it will be up to him to find out.

  “You are closer to the source than ever before. Just keep fighting. Don’t give up hope,” she says.

  Killian swings his fist forward, cracking the glass of the computer screen below.

  “Don’t,” she cries. “You will ruin everything.”

  Bringing his fist back, he inspects the lines of blood that course around his frayed knuckles. “Can’t you see?” he asks. “You’re fucked either way. Knowing Severin, he already has them in his control.”

  “Do not act rash. Who your father is means nothing,” she says.

  “It means everything, and you know it,” he lashes back.

  “You are more than those who walked the earth before you,” she says, grabbing his hands. “Don’t you love her? Don’t you wish for a better world?”

  Killian presses his forehead against hers and, suddenly, it’s like he is still with Rae. “How can I love another when I can’t even love myself?”

  “I can’t be the one to answer that question, and neither can she, Killian. But I trust that once you find the answer, you will already be in a better place,” she says.

  He pulls back, huffing the dense air surrounding them. Life is a tragedy worth living. He never really doubted that. But finding the next steps forward is tougher than war.

  “Where do I go from here?” he asks.

  “Virgil outlined everything. You must turn back to the stables outside of the towers. First, take this,” she says.

  She unrolls her palm, revealing a small black box. “Keep this out of harm’s way. You will see the power plant near the stables. As chaos spreads to the region, the guards will be distracted. It will disable all power.”

  “But taking down one grid won’t be enough to stop the entire military from rescuing their leaders.”

  “You are not listening. This world is unraveling.” Her voice is rife with uncertainty, her eyes full of tears. “You are not the only ones helping us. There will be multiple detonations.”

  She kneels toward the computer, pulling the chip from the port on its side. “And this. Keep this. It’s… important.”

  “How important?” he asks.

  Her expression changes completely. Eyes dark, she said, “Next time you come here, I won’t be here to help you,” she says. “We can’t lose this data.”

  “What if you’re lying? I mean, why should I trust you?” he asks.

  “Because if you don’t, you will die. We will all die for nothing,” she says.

  Killian believes the clone as he believes Rae. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll do it.”

  “Once the detonation occurs, the prisoners will use the opportunity to create chaos. You must ignore them. Don’t be like your father. Trust in your heart,” she says.

  When Killian turns, she’s gone.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  To the right of the stables, the large, metallic power structures rise into the heavens. They are the providers of synthetic power, but, as a child, Killian thought they looked like the old gods in all of the books.

  He never understood how they brought the world electricity, but now it is clear he will be the one to destroy it, to destroy everything.

  He will be the one to end the Republic.

  A new world is coming. A whole new fucking world.

  Killian takes a breath and stares at the walled-off structure. When the guards are out of sight, he crawls through the gate, surprised the clone was correct in her assumption.

  Once in the center of the power plant, he removes the cover on the plastic box, tossing it onto the concrete structure.

  He runs toward the stables in the distance, ducking his head as he hears bullets ring out above. But the firing squad doesn’t last too long.

  When the detonation goes off, an electric-blue light shoots across the horizon, rising into a big plume of fire and smoke.

  The lines of communication are down. Now, it is their game to win.

  There is a strange commotion in the towers nearby. First, he hears a woman yelling. Killian recognizes Ruby’s inflection. He waits, intently listening to the guards respond.

  No sign of Severin.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small blade. Slowly, he cuts the long threads of hair that cover his eyes. He tears the blade’s edges into his beard, carefully serrating the masculine hair away.

  He has been hiding from his true self for far too long. It is time to come to face who he really is. Severin’s child. The bringer of the end.

  He will use this blade to kill his father.

  Walking straight for the tall, marble building, he makes his way toward the first guard he sees. “Sleep,” he says, slashing his throat.

  When the others see him, they take aim. But another power grid explodes in the distance, catching them off guard.

  “I’m giving you one chance to run,” Killian says.

  The guards share a glance, drop their guns, and run.

  “Good choice,” he says, chuckling.

  Killian takes the rifles and heads toward his destiny.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Who is it that overcomes the world? She is the one who came by water and blood.

  Rae removes herself from the water. Scrapes from the craggy rocks cover her body, but the blood doesn’t faze her anymore.

  There is no pain. Only fury.

  As she walks through the new section of tunnels, she tries to find a sign of Killian. Anything to prove he’s still alive. Surprisingly, she finds the structure Severin forced her into for her coronation ceremony.

  Now she knows where she is. “Back to the beginning,” she whispers.

  She walks toward it, noticing the cracked glass. Fresh blood is smeared over the small fissures.

  “Killian,” she says, turning to catch a glimpse of the endless rows of lit-up computers and data-folders.

  There is so much she doesn’t know, but she is willing to learn.

  Walking through the cold and empty space, she finds a ladder at the end of the section. She places her hand on the bars, steadying her breath before climbing up and reaching a hidden compartment.

  Once inside, the sunlight from the outside world pierces the metal barrier. She reaches up and pushes the lid open.

  She is in the city, the city they all fled from on the night of her capture.

  “Freedom. Liberty. Justice. Welcome to the New Republic, the city of the future,” A robotic voice announces.

  She turns, ankles catching the edge of a freshly cemented curb. From the ground, she gazes up at the tall skyscrapers. Across the glass, an image of her face glows, suspended in blue.

  She darts her eyes toward another set of buildings and sees the same thing. She is everywhere.

  Everywhere.

  The city of Dagon appears so different. Vibrant, clean, and new. As soon as her eyes focus on a few alphas walking by, she can see their emaciated bodies, the hunger in their eyes, and a deep concern envelopes her.

  The newness is fake. Everything is falling apart.

  Killian could be anywhere.

  She runs across the street, taking cover behind a police vehicle. Thankfully, nobody noticed her, but as she leans back against the hot metal car, she gazes at a small crowd gathering around a preacher giving a fervent speech on a podium.

  “My people. She has suffered with us, heard our cries, and through her humility, she has deci
ded to help us. The queen will give her speech any day now. We must be patient,” the preacher says.

  He is dressed in a similar manner to Virgil, but the clothes are more ragged, torn at the ends.

  A man steps toward the preacher, collapsing near the podium. He reaches for him, saliva falling from his mouth, begging for an ounce of truth.

  “The leaders have been silent. What is their plan for us? We are hungry,” he says.

  The preacher kicks his jaw, and the mob wastes no time mimicking his movements. This world is the same as Cassian’s. It’s only dressed a little better.

  Rae pushes through the crowd of zealots. “Stop it,” she screams, forcing the men off the battered beggar. “Stop this at once.”

  The crowd reacts with quick gasps. A man in the front points, falling against the rest of the worshippers. “It’s her. The one.”

  Rae sends the preacher backward. “Do not listen to these lies,” she says. “Your leaders have failed you. They locked away my family, ripping my children from my breasts before I could feed them a drop of milk. To inspire your emotions, they tortured and broke me again until I was willing to become less than worthy of myself. And now, I come into the city I once knew, and I can see that this world is still dying. You worship the wrong things. Turn back and find the people you love. Hold them close and never let go.”

  Hushed whispers circle her. Nearly everyone raises their hands into the air, falling to their knees, begging to touch her supple body.

  Voices, whispering, “Is it really her? Oh, it must be.”

  “There are still replicas. This one can’t be her,” another responds.

  The preacher pulls her into the fray, nails scratching against her arm. She’s thrown down before she can say any more, and a group of towering men lower around her body to take her.

  But, as she attempts to kick out of the men’s grasp, three detonations shatter a nearby building’s windows.

  All around her, the bombs expose the structure underneath. And when it all comes tumbling down, she has to wonder, “Is this how I die?”

  Rae tries to stand, but another blast causes her to stumble. Warm flames wrap around her shoulders like a heated cloak, as dust and debris collect surround the area.

  Boots clash against the concrete around her body. Bodies running, escaping the turmoil. Leaving Rae to die.

  Sirens spread a terrifyingly loud alarm, and there is almost no clean air to breathe. The smoke runs through her lungs, as black as tar. It clings against the back of her throat, forcing her to cough near the pavement.

  “Help,” she screams.

  No one is going to save her. If she stays here, she will die.

  Finding some strength inside her is difficult, but she manages to stumble through the opaque streets. Eyes closed, she throws herself into a corner, feeling for a way out, lips puckering for air.

  “Oh God,” she whispers.

  Through the disastrous smoke comes a hand. “Get up,” a voice says.

  She blinks, barely able to see. It’s the man the mob had beaten near the soapbox sermon. His face is badly bruised, nose broken and caked with blood.

  Rae takes his hand.

  He takes off his coat, gliding the fabric over her head, making sure she has some shielding. “There has been another prison break,” he says. “Follow me. I know of a safe place.”

  “Who are you?” she asks.

  “My name is Noah,” he says. “You’re in good hands.”

  “Noah…”

  Before she can react, he pulls her through the crowd, and into an apartment building left over from the last regime, quickly shutting the door behind them.

  “Thank heavens I found you,” Noah gasps.

  Leaning back against the doorframe, he lets his head slump. “I have to apologize,” he says. “You are her, right? Should I bow? Allow me to bow.”

  “Do not bow to me, and don’t call me your queen,” she says, zipping up the coat he gave her to wear. “I’m just another omega who has been taken advantage of.”

  “We know,” he interrupts her.

  “You know?” she asks. “Right, I almost forgot. The coronation ceremony. That was broadcasted all over the city.”

  “Yes. For years, the television screens showed your face in that cold, blue water. Silent and still, you floated like an angel,” he says.

  “Unfortunately, I’m no angel,” she says.

  “Maybe,” he says.

  “I’m a clone,” she reiterates.

  The man nods. “We know of your origins in the test facilities. You are the next step for alpha-kind,” Noah says. “Maybe you don’t believe in fate, but we do. You are the one who is going to guide us into the third and final stage.”

  A flash of anger rushes through her chest, tightening her shoulders, leaving her feeling absolutely helpless. “Final stage? You can’t be serious. This planet is dying. Do you hear me? Dying.”

  Noah stares at her without expression. His eyes do not waver as he says the next words. “We knew you’d say that, too. Maybe the world needs an end, but for now, it needs a leader. It needs you.”

  “Who is this ‘we’?” she asks.

  Outside, chaos reigns. Gunshots ring out, meeting the swift reply of terrified screams. She never wanted it to be like this. She didn’t think an entire world could crumble simply because of her existence, but it is happening before her very eyes.

  Without saying another word, Noah reaches into his pocket, revealing a set of old keys. He waves her to follow him as he meanders toward a set of rusted mailboxes on the west wing of the building.

  “It’s right over here,” he says, placing a key into the side of one of the mailboxes.

  The wall separates, revealing a separate room, hidden from the rest of the world. “Hurry,” he says. “We can’t let anyone else find us.”

  As she steps inside, she examines the new surroundings. Cots line the walls. Above them, a library spirals three floors up. There are books upon books waiting to be read, harmless trophies celebrated by peaceful people.

  “How long have you operated here?” she asks, staring upward at the vast ceiling.

  “The Cathedral has been in place since the first attack on the city,” he says. “When the buildings fell, there were too many civilian casualties to count. I tried to help in every way I could, but without any money or resources, it was nearly impossible. I slept on the street for days, huddled near decaying bodies, forced to live through what I thought was the end of the world. Then, a man woke me. He was an old preacher who came to spread the seeds of rebellion. He helped us build a sanctuary. He named it the Cathedral.”

  A lump catches in her throat. “Virgil,” she says.

  “He told us you would meet him. I’m guessing all of this has already happened,” he says.

  Rae lowers her gaze, and the cloud of doubt sweeps through her like a phantom. “He lost his mind. He turned on us. Gave us away to Severin.”

  But as much as Rae justifies her hatred toward the elderly preacher, she can see there is more to the story. There are wolves that wear sheep’s clothing, but she never thought a lamb might be smart enough to reverse the cloth.

  “He wanted you to succeed. It has always been up to you to find the right way,” he says.

  She clenches her teeth, staring at the tapestries covering the walls of the building. Endless geometric patterns extend out as fractals. She can look at any point and get lost in the disarray of detail, but if she brings her focus outward, it is obvious how connected everything is.

  “He helped kill one of my husbands,” she says.

  “Killian has his own journey,” he says. “You can’t change fate.”

  Head clammy, body heavy with exhaustion, she nods. “Is he dead?” she asks.

  Noah shakes his head, taking her hands, squeezing tenderly. She feels as if she might pass out. “If all things go according to plan, he is more alive than he’s ever been.”

  Rae catches her tears with the arch of
her nose, smiling and laughing as the emotional pain turns into sweet relief. “How can I believe you?” she asks.

  Noah turns the music off, allowing for the sounds of violence from the outside to pour in. “The world isn’t nice,” he says. “If you don’t help us, most of us will die, including you.”

  “At least my children will survive,” she says.

  “What makes you so sure?” he asks. “Are you really in a position to find out?”

  Facing the stairs, she looks up at the tall bookcases. Of course, the man is right. And even if he isn’t, she has nowhere else to turn.

  She has to trust him.

  As she takes another step forward, an omega appears on the stairs. She stops near Rae.

  “What is this? You brought people to force me to help your cause?” Rae asks.

  “We don’t use force to get people to do things,” Noah says. “You will do what your heart thinks is right. My job is to help show you the truth. Another storm is coming, and you can choose to lead or choose to watch the world burn. In the end of days, it will be up to you.”

  “The end of days,” Rae scoffs and allows for a ridiculous smile. “I was told the end of days would come with Cassian.”

  The omega on the stairs removes her hood, and Rae sees her for who she is. Herself. Another copy.

  “Cassian was just the beginning,” she says.

  “You’re a clone. How is that possible? My sister ordered the shutdown of every known facility. You were all killed,” Rae says.

  “It’s hard to believe a lie when the truth is staring you in the face. There are more of us than you know,” she says, reaching for her.

  She once thought of the clones as failures of science, stupid beings whose only destiny was to die. However, as she gazes into the eyes of her clone, she sees a learned woman, someone who is exactly the same as her.

  She takes her hands. “All of you live here freely?” Rae asks.

  “Most of us are here. Some work for the New Republic,” she says. “We have infiltrated every sector.”

  “For what? To bring the end?” Rae asks.

  Noah answers. “To pacify the citizens of the New Republic, Severin must weave a worthwhile story,” he says. “We are the ones to break his story apart, to reveal the truth.”