Awakening: Book 1 of The Summer Omega Series

by JK Cooper

  On one wall, three monitors rotated camera views throughout the property, each monitor’s picture in a grainy green.

  “Night vision. Dope.”

  He saw men clad in black moving in on the manor from multiple angles. More than two dozen, he guessed, though he didn’t take the time to count them out.

  “Now that ain’t dope.”

  This called for desperate measures. He grabbed another pack of ramen. And then, next to the small kitchen area, he noticed a peculiar lever, the kind in a Frankenstein movie that, when thrown, connected all the circuits and shot crazy amounts of electricity through the monster, bringing it to life.

  “Release?” he said, reading the label on the side of the lever with a down arrow. “Release what?”

  Sadie shifted. Her heart raced as she retreated into a shadowy pocket. Dim red light glowed along the ceilings and walls. I can’t believe this is happening, she thought. She had dreamed of a day when she would fight—really fight. For true love, of course—if such a thing existed. That—the desire to fight—wasn’t only her wolf instinct, according to her parents, for Sadie had always been feisty and scrappy about everything in life. Everything was a challenge. Everything was a wrong that needed to righted through a good pounding. But she had always thought when the time came to fight, it would be against a rival pack. Those brawls rarely proved lethal, except for an Alpha occasionally.

  But hunters . . .

  She had only ever heard legends of them. Normally, humans would never drive fear into the heart of a Lycan; but the aura around the legends of hunters did just that. Her chest heaved with adrenaline as she tried to calm her breathing. Then came that scent of musky sweat and iron, the smell of a human. A tincture of fear also lanced the air as the scent grew stronger. Was that her fear or the hunter’s?

  The man turned the corner. Sadie sank deeper into her shadowy recess but bared her fangs instinctively. Dressed in all black, he pressed a tactical rifle against his shoulder. Some kind of optical gear covered most of his face, but Sadie could still see that his black face paint glistened with his sweat.

  He’s afraid . . .

  Afraid or not, he didn’t look human. The optical gear Sadie recognized as those night vision thingies. Her nerd brother got a free pair with the collector’s edition of the newest Call of Duty game. This pocket of shadow would do her no good if he turned her way. Which, of course, he would.

  The hunter stepped cautiously but deliberately. Yes, confidence. She saw it in his walk. Arrogance, even. The fear she smelled must be her own. Typical, she chided herself. She let the rage build inside her, let it push aside her hesitation, her doubt. Her shoulders hunched, her rear legs bent, muscles coiling in anticipation. Just as the hunter turned his head toward her, Sadie sprang.

  The sound of muted gunfire ripped the air as she hit the hunter. He did not crumple to the ground under her weight as she imagined he would.

  SWAC, he’s strong!

  A fist that felt forged of iron grabbed her skin as she snapped her jaws at his face, once, twice, vying for the taste of his flesh. But her attacks fell just short as the hunter held her at bay. A cold sweat broke out along her spine as she saw the dull red glint of the knife. She caught his wrist in her mouth as the knife swung toward her, and the man screamed. Sadie sank her teeth through his clothing, into his flesh. Deeper. Oh, the taste of salty warmth! Something primal awakened in her as the first droplets of blood touched her taste buds. She yanked her head, teeth still clenched, with strength born of innate survival instincts, and heard a pop as the man screamed louder. Somehow—no doubt his own survival instincts kicking in—the man punched her again and again with his free hand with surprising speed. The blows made Sadie flinch but she did not let go. The whites of his eyes in stark contrast against his black face paint, she saw the terror now in his eyes, almost pleading. The punching stopped. Where did his other hand go? She heard the pistol come free from the holster too late. Pressure pushed against her side and she knew it was the cold barrel of the gun.

  She tensed.

  "Drop it, mofo.”

  Sadie thought for a fraction of a second that the words were meant for her, but she knew that voice.

  Bubba?

  She felt the pressure at her side fade followed by the dull clank of metal hitting the marble floor. Sadie did not hesitate. She wrenched the hunter’s wrist savagely. As the knife fell free finally, she released her grip on the ruined limb and looked up at Bubba. He flinched. He was kneeling by the hunter, pressing something against his head.

  “Nice freakish big doggie,” Bubba said. “I just saved your life. You know that, right?”

  What was in his hand? A magic marker? Seriously? Bubba was holding a magic marker to the hunter’s temple to save her?

  Her look, even in her wolf form, must have expressed her disbelief, because Bubba said, “What? It worked, didn’t it?”

  Pick up the gun! Sadie screamed in her mind. Pick it up, Tubba! But of course, Bubba did not have the mental link of the pack.

  The hunter’s eyes flashed, and Sadie could see he sensed something amiss. He pivoted and slammed a fist into Bubba’s solar plexus. Bubba’s eyes went wide as his scream was cut short, all the wind fleeing his lungs. The hunter lunged for the gun, but Sadie pounced, all human thought leaving her as she let her wolf take over. It was long moments later when she realized her jaws had clamped around the hunter’s neck, the taste of his hot blood washing over her tongue. Several strong arterial pumps shot the blood from his mortal wound into her mouth, then sporadic pumps, then weaker pumps. Then nothing.

  Nothing.

  Sadie Chandler just took her first life. No remorse. No guilt. Just a quiet relief swelling inside her.

  Bubba found his breath and began to scream. For a large man, Bubba could really hit that high register quite nicely. Good thing there were no windows in this part of the manor. Sadie winced, then shifted but remained crouched.

  “Bubba! Shut up!”

  The abrupt silence shocked Sadie. Screeching goblin to nada? Just like that? Bubba blinked so rapidly she thought he might actually take flight. The boy did actually have enviable eye lashes.

  “Hey, girl,” Bubba said hesitantly. “You know you’re naked, right?”

  “I was naked before I shifted, too, genius.”

  Bubba’s face contorted. “Yeah, but that was hairy naked.” He whistled a low note. “This right here ain’t hairy naked. No siree.”

  Gunfire sounded in other parts of the house.

  “Why did you leave the panic room?” Sadie asked.

  “I saw you gettin’ crept up on, ninja style. Ya know, had to come save your naked self, feel?”

  And save her he had.

  “How did you get out?” she asked.

  “See, as I was making my ramen spread, jailhouse style, I got to thinkin’ that a panic room ain’t no cell, right? It’s to protect them on the inside. Figured there had to be a release button. Found it. Saw you in danger. Came running and . . . aw, man! My ramen! It’s still cooking!” Bubba sighed. “Ain’t no good now, boy. You went and ruined that.” He shook his head.

  “We have to move,” Sadie said. “Grab his gun and stay close. I really wish you had stayed in the panic room. I don’t have time to watch out for you right now.”

  “Who watchin’ out for who?”

  “Pick. Up. That. Cussing. Gun.”

  “Aight, Swearing Sadie, aight.”

  Sadie shifted and felt her confidence rekindle. She knew what she was about now, had tasted the blood of a hunter. They can be killed. The rank odor of sweat and fear permeated the air and she honed in on her next target: a scent that wafted from below the banister of the upstairs lobby. She was focused now, ready to—

  “You know, when this is all over, maybe momma will invite you over for chicken,” Bubba said. “Kale is on her bad side now on account of him missin’ dinner tonight. Momma holds grudges.”

  Sadie growled.

  “Shutting up,”
Bubba said.

  Kale crouched low beside the warehouse, sniffing the air. Above, he heard the soft whir of several drones. He was grateful for the backup.

  She was close. Shelby. He would probably find her before the drones did if he quieted his mind. Fury. It sweltered like a shapeless torrent within him. He needed to give it shape. Focus.

  Kale? Elias said into his son’s mind.

  We’re close, he answered through that same mental link.

  Three warehouses, each two stories, sprawled out in view in front of him. His gaze turned to each one, his frustration increasing every second, waiting for some kind of affirmation of Shelby’s exact location. He was still new at this bonded thing, if that’s what it actually was.

  That first kiss sealed us somehow . . .

  How suddenly she had come into his life, so unbidden, so unexpected, but so welcome.

  To his left, he spied Grant sidling along an adjacent warehouse, stopping at the corner. He moved extremely stealthily, for a human.

  Better let him know I’m here.

  Before Kale could take a step forward, Grant snapped his head and fixed his eyes on Kale’s. It startled him for a brief moment.

  How did he . . .

  Grant ran to Kale’s position with impressive speed and silence. Elias joined them from behind a stack of barrels and shifted back to human form. Grant did not seem phased by Elias’s nakedness.

  Well, he was married to a werewolf, Kale told himself. He would know what to expect.

  Grant touched a comm unit at his ear. “Gennesaret says it’s that warehouse, sixty feet northwest. The drones are in position to assist.”

  “Good,” Elias whispered. “We should have the element of surprise.”

  Grant looked confused. “Oh, they know we’re here. Kale tripped their early detection system about three minutes ago. You didn’t notice?”

  I what? Kale thought to his father. He supposed he would have looked abashed had he not been in his wolf.

  “They won’t be expecting our aerial support, regardless,” Elias said.

  Grant nodded. “Let’s move.”

  Elias shifted back into his wolf, standing nearly as tall as Grant’s shoulders. If it weren’t for the amber eyes, Grant might have lost sight of Elias against the black of the night. As quietly as possible, they moved toward the target warehouse. His mother was correct; this was the right building. Kale felt it pulsing in him. And he felt Shelby’s fear. She had awakened recently. He could tell even that through their bond. She knew they were coming for her, and this . . . why didn’t Kale sense her relief if she knew they were coming?

  She knows it’s a trap, Elias said.

  And we know it’s a trap. Isn’t there a better way?

  Elias growled in Kale’s mind. Best thing to do when you know there’s a trap is to spring the trap.

  That made no sense to Kale, but he advanced on the warehouse all the same. A warning jolted through him, almost a voice, a thought invading his mind.

  Shelby?

  Back! Go back!

  Grant had reached the warehouse and crouched at the left side of a dirty window, peeking through the window with an optic of some kind. Elias positioned himself on the right side of the window. A drone swooped low and lined itself up with the glass.

  Father! Wait! Kale shouted through their link.

  Grant broke the glass with his buttstock and tossed two grenades through the window. A bright flash followed by a massive boom shook Kale’s chest. He sensed Shelby’s reaction to the flash and concussion grenades, then, their connection went mute. The drone entered the opening followed by another. Green lasers began sweeping the dark interior of the warehouse, the drones seeking targets.

  Kale dashed to Grant just as he was about to jump through the window and blocked his entrance.

  “Get out of my way, Kale!”

  He shifted. “Shelby says not to enter.”

  “You have got to be crazy. I’m getting my girl.”

  Kale grabbed Grant by the arm. “You’ll put her in danger if you do.”

  Grant’s glare turned murderous. “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. I feel it.”

  Elias moved closer, still in his wolf. Are you sure, son?

  “Yes, I’m sure,” he answered aloud. He felt the muted connection with Shelby resurfacing as the flash bang’s effects wore off her.

  Grant seemed to intuit the silent half of the conversation. Then he put his hand to his ear, obviously receiving a transmission. “René says the drones report the area is clear except for a single person in the center. It appears to be Shelby. She’s alive.”

  “I know,” Kale said. “I still feel her, though she’s groggy.”

  Just as Grant was about to respond, the drones flew back out the broken window and kept going. The other six above the warehouse suddenly retreated as well, leaving them without aerial support. Elias shifted.

  “What’s happening?” he demanded. “Why did they leave?”

  Kale’s stomach dropped as he saw his father’s ghostly pallor.

  “The manor is under attack,” Grant reported, still touching the comm unit in his ear.

  “What?” Kale hissed.

  Elias looked hard at Grant, and Kale sensed the ambivalence in his father. “I’m sorry,” Elias finally said and shifted. Kale literally felt the terror in his father’s footsteps as he tore through the industrial park in the direction they had arrived. But Kale also sensed the righteous fury coursing through his father’s mind, frantic though it was.

  “Go,” Grant said. “It’s your family. I’ve got this. Go.”

  Anguish split Kale’s soul. With a pained voice, he said, “I can’t. I can’t leave Shelby. She is my family.” He paused. “You are now, too.”

  Grant’s sigh seemed to express all his frustration. “Your mother is at the house, Kale.”

  “I . . . I know.”

  Flood lights from above illuminated the night and shone directly on Kale and Grant. Kale immediately shifted. Grant raised his M4 to his shoulder. The lights came from the rooftops of nearby warehouses. They were surrounded from an elevated position.

  Grant dropped to one knee, bringing his rifle to his shoulder. He shifted his aim from one light to the other, searching for any distinguishable form. His pulse thudded loudly in his ears.

  “For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife,” a voice said. “Touching, really. Except she’s not actually your wife, is she, Kale Copeland, son of Elias?”

  Grant adjusted his aim toward the sound of the voice. It came from the roof of a building to his right. “Let the kid go, Sherman. He’s not part of this.”

  “Oh, but the Lord’s justice extends itself upon all the spawn of Satan,” Sherman said. “Pity He warned you not to enter. This would have been over by now.”

  “Pressure sensors,” Grant said, almost to himself. He glanced at Kale. His shoulders hunched, and his lips peeled back revealing menacing fangs. Grant could still only make out inky shadows on the warehouse rooftops. He tried not to stare directly into the floodlights.

  “Yes, of course,” Sherman said. “Imagine the irony of a Lycan saving a former hunter, and that of his Lycan daughter. I remember our joint missions, Grant. You were . . . ruthless. Truly on the Lord’s errand.”

  Grant saw Kale pull away from him slightly. The air around Grant shifted. He felt it charge with confusion and accusation from Kale.

  “Kale, yes, I was a hunter. But I am not now. He’s trying to get inside your head. Don’t let him.”

  “Hard to trust a man who has hunted your kind, isn’t it?” Sherman said, his voice mockingly sympathetic. “Who do you trust? Him? Your feelings? The feelings you feel for young Miss Brooks? Who says Grant isn’t part of this whole thing?”

  Kale took another step back. He growled, but not at Sherman. Grant pivoted, switching his M4 to his left hand, aiming it at Kale while simultaneously drawing his Glock and pointing it at his
best estimation of Sherman’s position.

  “Your daddy took Shelby in,” Sherman continued, “and now look, Grant has you here all alone with us. How was it that we so easily grabbed Shelby in the first place? Maybe he just let us waltz in there and take her, hmm?”

  “Kale,” Grant whispered. “It’s not what he says. I would never do anything to put her in harm’s way.”

  “Perhaps she isn’t in harm’s way at all,” Sherman said. “It wouldn’t be the first time a Lycan turned on their own kind and helped us. Tell me, Kale, did Grant here ever tell you how he met Shelby’s mother?”

  Grant fired his Glock, taking out one of the flood lights, and rolled forward, knowing return fire would come immediately. He was right. Gun shots rang out. He fired then moved, fired then moved. Holstering his sidearm, he brought his M4 to bear and shot out the other lights, then moved again, taking refuge behind a jersey wall. He did not see Kale. Bullets slammed into the concrete, the sound of their ricochets whistling around him. He tossed a flashbang onto one of the warehouse rooftops, then hunkered behind his barrier. Men cried out. Grant rose, his night vision monocle activated, and sighted three men. He squeezed his trigger three times, and each of his targets fell still.

  “Grant? You still there?”

  It took him a second to realize the voice came from the comm unit in his ear.

  “René?”

  “Good,” René said. “I kept one drone behind, about 100 yards south of you.”

  “How did the drones not pick these guys up?” Grant shouted over the gunfire. “They were on the rooftops!”

  “They’re wearing some kind of thermal camouflage, something that hides their body heat. That’s my best guess. I can pick them out manually now that I know what to look for.”

  “Well stop explaining and get to work!”

  Kale darted from Grant’s side at the first report of gunfire, taking shelter behind a corner. His mind spun with Sherman’s words. More gunfire, and men atop a warehouse grunted then fell still.

  Whatever Grant is, he’s killing hunters.

  That would have to be good enough for the time being. Kale felt Shelby’s awareness sharpen as the gunfire increased. She was terrified. Bullets impacted the ground just inches from him. The vibrations of their thuds were jolting.