His thoughts bounced inside his head, but he knew his mother had a plan, too. He was the destroyer. She was the saving grace. Together, they would rule as a Hegelian force.
Cassian forced his body into a bow. “Yes, Mother. I will wait for your instructions.”
Vash threw a punch at the door, crumpling to the floor once the pain hit his frazzled nerves. Harsh tears fell from his eyes, and all he wanted to do was give up. With nothing left to lose, Vash collected himself before leaving the prisons and running upstairs.
Positioning himself against the door of the stairwell, he listened to the rapid firing of soldiers outside. Their brash cries of courage could only be met with the obvious indifference of death and rising suffering. As soon as he opened the door, the smell hit him. In the distance, mounds of burning bodies polluted the horizon. Grabbing a loose rifle, Vash closed his eyes and centered himself.
The sound of gunfire calmed him. For the last ten years of his life, he’d gone to bed in the barracks listening to the cold noise of machinery. Other soldiers told him stories about man coexisting with nature. There was equality to things back then. Apparently.
Vash had never believed the stories. He didn’t see it as something possible. Man was born to weave a story, and every story had a cruel cast of characters. Parity and fairness were bullshit. The one constant this world had to offer was violence.
Shouldering his rifle, he ran through the wrecked prisons as vibratory explosions rippled through the earth. The walls came crashing over him, but he rolled into a small clearing of rubble and waving trash. Unmarked civilians with guns of their own fired through the walls, but Vash had trained himself to be the quicker aim. He shot into the dense crowd of people, watching as they twitched like insects.
As Vash sucked in the adulterated air, he saw it. Amidst the burning wreckage of war vehicles and small farm buildings stood the transport carrier, resting in the outside lot. He stumbled toward it, fighting the urge to look at the soldiers shooting in his direction. When his hand hit the green carrier, he jammed the detonation device onto the hood of the vehicle. He made sure the alpha driving saw his flashing grin.
The front of the carrier exploded into flames. Of course, the soldiers working the vehicle spilled out like sour milk. Every single alpha was begging to be hit with his malice. Now more than ever, Vash wanted to destroy Cassian’s armies, and with his brother’s eyes elsewhere, it would be easier done than most thought.
When the dead were silent, Vash stepped inside the driver’s seat and pushed the sunken bodies aside to look through the cage to the holding area. Drooling alphas stared back at him, but Killian was the one who came to the front first.
“Vash!” he screamed. Across his face was a fresh cut, deep, open, and running with red. “Bastards cut me up…”
Vash took the driver’s keys and ran to the hold. When he opened the door, the prisoners ran, but Killian paused. “Where’s Lucas?”
“You’re asking me?” Vash asked. “I thought he was with you.”
“Shit!” Killian hissed. “The bastard split us up. There are multiple transports. He could be halfway to the southern regions by now if Cassian wanted it.”
Vash eyed the barracks again. He wouldn’t be forced to walk back into that firefight. Half of it was an exhibition of demolition and pain. It wasn’t the least bit safe. But just as he turned around, a flimsy hand appeared from the rubble followed by a thin body caked in dust. Vash recognized the body immediately.
Lucas wiped the dirt from his paramilitary-style pants and clenched his teeth around his metal toothpick. “You ready to go or what?”
Killian nearly dropped his gun onto the spoiled soil. “What the…?”
Lucas took a rifle from one of many dead soldiers’ wrists. Taking aim at the prisons, he fired a few rounds blindly. “They never tell you about the smell of the killing fields,” he said.
Killian eyed the smoky horizon. The sounds of gunfire ceased momentarily. “Feces.”
Both of the men laughed deeply.
At the moment, Vash was a million miles away, inside his own head. Riddled with anxiety, he couldn’t stop twitching his eye to face each corner of the dense socket. There was a noticeable dull sting to those movements, but that wasn’t to say it hurt. It just felt different.
And as Vash closed his eyes and felt the current of energy run through him, he sensed the cold feminine touch glide against his shoulders. Nostalgic. For a brief moment, the feeling left him ruined. Raising his shoulders fiercely, he grunted through clenched lips. “Mother…”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Killian asked.
But Vash couldn’t concentrate. Suddenly, the voice inside his head grew stronger. “My baby…”
The age soaked through every word. Turning, the fields disappeared. The blood and soiled earth morphed into a brightly lit room. He knew the place almost instantly, except he couldn’t put his finger on the exact location. He could see Cassian walking through the rows of women, safely locked away in their cryo chambers. Did the clones dream? Not even Cassian could answer that question.
They could sure as hell fuck.
Vash rolled his head and groaned. “My brother,” he grunted.
“Vash, we gotta keep movin’ if we want to find the slut,” Lucas said, grabbing the lumped tuft of fabric near his shoulder.
After a few blinks, Vash recalibrated himself. Though he could not understand the visions his mind played behind his sore eyes, he knew there was something more to all of this. Something Cassian wouldn’t dare tell the sugary bitch, let alone Vash’s pack. Still, they didn’t have the hours of planning to spare. In less than two weeks’ time, the parasite would worm through his socket. If he didn’t find a doctor, he’d surely die.
“Cassian forced a scrounger in my fucking socket,” Vash groaned. “I need a specialist worth a damn.”
“Fuck.” Killian clenched his fist.
Vash knew it was not going to be easy to find a doctor who could help him. Seeing a specialist required the patient to undergo a series of complex check-in instructions—a fingerprint identification check, saliva registration, and computerized questionnaire. It would be impossible to slip through the cracks.
“I know of a guy,” Lucas said.
“Speak,” Vash said.
“He’s in the city, but he does his dealings in the pipes for extra security,” he continued.
Vash squirmed when he thought of the pipes. The smell practically wafted into the center of his nose. The underground sewage drains of the cities were some of the worst places in the world. Covered in excrement, dying alphas, and black-market sellers, it was known as hell on earth.
“He’ll be there?” Vash asked.
Lucas gulped, and the look on his face seemed to suggest he could taste the sour aroma already. Nodding, he covered his mouth. “Parasites are easy to kill. He’ll just need a genetic kit from you and the woman.”
Vash ground his teeth against the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, it became quite clear how far they were from completing their journey. Without even thinking about the consequences, the alpha men had set out on the most difficult tasks in the world.
“You think the girl will squirm?” Killian asked.
Stepping forward into the red vapor of the waning day, Vash held his rifle with as much pride as he could muster. They’d find the girl. Breed her, too. And once they succeeded in knotting her good, they’d force Cassian’s hand.
“She’s a born captive,” Vash said. “She’ll be easier to train than a bitch in heat.”
*** ***
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Penelope Woods writes dark reverse harem novels. Her mind is full of horror, sci-fi, and possibly too much smut. Possibly…
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