The Order of Omega (The Alpha Drive Book 2)

by Kristen Martin

  The Commander continued to stare straight ahead at Naia. He arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? If there’s something I should know, you need to tell me.”

  Novak waved his hands again to no avail. They can’t see me. I’m invisible. He clenched his fists, his frustration climbing.

  Naia took a deep breath. “It’s Novak, sir. I’m just worried that he’ll see right through this. Right through me.” She cast her eyes down at the table.

  Victor’s eyes widened as he watched the scene play out before him. See right through her?

  The Commander placed his hand on top of hers and gave it a light squeeze. “He won’t. And you want to know why? Because you’re the best I’ve got. You can do this.”

  Naia squeezed her eyes shut, then nodded. “Okay. I can do this.”

  “For Emery.”

  A faint smile touched her lips. “For Emery.”

  “You have got to be shitting me!” Victor shouted as the realization of what was going on hit him square in the eyes. He slammed his fists on the table. “You,” he declared, pointing his finger at Naia, “I knew I never should have trusted you.”

  He knew they couldn’t hear him. He knew that no matter how loud he shouted nothing would change. The damage was done.

  “I need to tell you about the keys,” the Commander said quietly.

  Victor froze in his rage, then gazed down at the omega pendant in his hand. The keys.

  “I know that we need them in order to deactivate Dormance,” Naia replied, “but how?”

  The Commander ran a hand through his hair. “Sandra created the keys as a failsafe so that, if anything ever went south, we could destroy Dormance forever. There are indentations of alpha and omega symbols on our mainstation and the one in Dormance. If the keys are locked into place on either one of the stations, the entire system will shut down and Dormance will no longer exist.”

  Victor shuffled backward, almost losing his balance. He gripped the omega pendant harder, his knuckles turning white, as the words sunk in. All this time, he’d been chasing after the ring and the pendant, the so-called “keys”—keys that would do the very thing he’d been fighting his whole life to keep from happening. The keys were the destroyer, not the activator. Which meant . . .

  I’ve had the ability to control the microchips this whole time.

  He balled his hands into fists, his nostrils flaring. He could feel his face burning as his body temperature rose.

  “Traitor!” he roared as he lunged across the table at Naia, reaching for her head so he could crack her skull on the marble table and finally give her what she deserved. Just as his fingers were about to wrap around her head, she suddenly vanished. Wisps of cloudy air took her place.

  In an instant, the scene before him faded, and Victor found himself back in the 7S world, back in his chambers. He gazed down at his hands and balled them into fists, closing his eyes as his entire body shook with rage. When he opened them, he caught Emery gaping at him, her eyes stricken with fear. He cast his eyes toward the immobile bodies on the ground. Torin. And Naia. He stormed over to where Naia lay, his eyes blazing with fury.

  “Don’t touch them! Please!” Emery screamed, her voice cracking. “Leave them alone!”

  But Victor wasn’t listening. With a multitude of kill tactics swirling in his head, he approached the blonde head of hair. She needs to be awake for this. He swung his leg back and kicked her in the ribcage with his steel-toed boots. Her bones cracked from the impact. “Wake up, traitor!”

  Tears streamed down Emery’s face. “Stop! Please!”

  He ignored Emery’s continuous pleas in the background as he waited for Naia’s body to shudder—but she was still.

  Just as he was gearing up to kick her again, a single gunshot sounded. As if in slow motion, Victor watched as a bullet sailed toward him. He wailed as it tore through his left knee, causing him to collapse face-first onto the cold, damp floor.

  + +

  Emery jolted forward, her ears ringing from the deafening sound. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, hoping that her hearing would return to normal. A thick haze of smoke floated around her. She narrowed her eyes, trying to bring the obscure figure in front of her into focus. A shadow rushed toward her, and she realized immediately who it belonged to.

  Her father.

  She smiled so wide that the edges of her mouth threatened to crack, but it abruptly faded as two more figures emerged from the left, running straight for her father. Warren and Mason.

  No, no, no.

  Although her faith in her father was strong, it was never good to be outnumbered, especially at a time like this. She hurriedly brought herself upright and immediately focused on Victor, who was across the room, propped up on his elbows, falling in and out of consciousness as blood gushed from his leg. His pants were completely shredded around his kneecap, and she could see fragments of bone protruding from the skin’s broken surface.

  She turned her attention back to her father, who was now surrounded by a calm Mason and an irate Warren. Mason had positioned himself behind her father, his forearms tightening around his neck to secure him in a chokehold, while Warren was facing Byron, throwing fierce punches at his face and stomach. It was already becoming difficult to distinguish his eyes from the rest of his face as the skin around his cheeks puffed up from hit after hit. She grimaced as Warren struck him right in the temple, her father’s head lolling to the side, eyes rolling backward. For a moment he didn’t move, and it took everything in her to convince herself that he wasn’t dead (again). Only unconscious.

  Her eyes darted over to Naia. Still facedown on the ground. Still unmoving. Emery took a deep breath as a harsh realization hit her. It’s up to me. I have to do this.

  Without a single second to spare, she pushed herself up off the ground and dashed into the middle of the chaos, trying to ignore the immense pain shooting up her leg. Her body felt weak, her mind blurry, but she forged on, knowing that if she didn’t stop Warren soon, it really could be too late for her father.

  Warren must have sensed her coming because just as he was about to lay another punch into her father’s face, he whirled around and prepared to backhand her. Emery ducked underneath his arm just in time, using her momentum to reverse-lunge and drive her elbow into his lower spine. Warren cried out in pain as his back cracked and arched from the impact.

  Stunned by her sudden strength, she took the opportunity to kick the backside of his knee, forcing him to collapse. He crumpled to the ground, the surprise of the attack written all over his face.

  When she looked back up, she was glad to see that her father was no longer in a chokehold, but concern clouded her mind as she realized that Mason was nowhere in sight. Where did he go?

  She rushed over to her father to help him to his feet when the sound of heavy footsteps filled the room. She looked over her right shoulder, her gaze landing on the many soldiers that had just arrived. Her heart sank as she counted in her head. They outnumber us twofold.

  Although his eye was swollen and his vision was impaired, Byron charged forward to take on the guards. Emery’s nerves buzzed as she watched her father attack the burly men one by one. Her father was a large man himself, but so were the guards, and there were more of them.

  A lot more of them.

  She looked to her left, eyes darting back and forth as she searched for Torin’s body. Naia’s hadn’t moved an inch, but Torin’s had disappeared altogether.

  “Emery!”

  She whirled around at the familiar voice, her eyes locking on Torin’s. Somehow, he’d managed to move himself over near Victor and the mainstation, all while being surrounded by daunting men clad in heavy-duty armor. “Catch!” he yelled.

  Emery gaped as the real omega pendant left his fingertips and spiraled through the air toward her. She took a step forward and jumped, wincing as her leg went numb. She reached her arm as far as it would go, fingers cupped in the shape of a shrunk
en baseball glove to ensure she’d catch the pendant.

  It felt as though she were watching the pendant in slow motion as it flew toward her. She continued to stretch her arm out as far as it would possibly go and, after what felt like an eternity, the chain finally looped itself around her index and middle fingers. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she closed her fingers to secure the pendant in her grip. She turned toward the mainstation, immediately focusing on the empty indentation. It was time to put an end to this . . . to all of this. But her relief quickly turned to angst as she locked eyes with the one person standing in her way.

  Mason.

  44

  Let her pass.

  Mason stood like a stone wall in front of the control station. He eyed the omega pendant that was dangling from Emery’s index finger, the horseshoe spinning counterclockwise.

  Don’t hurt her.

  Unfortunately, his body seemed to be listening to an imaginary voice that wasn’t his. He took a few steps forward, arms raised for combat, a gun in one and a baton in the other.

  “Mason,” she pleaded, “I need to get to the mainstation. You have to let me pass.”

  I know who you are, Mason thought to himself, but this blasted microchip doesn’t.

  “We have one shot at this,” she continued, eyes begging. “I need you to let me pass. I need to fully deactivate Dormance once and for all.”

  A chuckle reverberated throughout the room. Mason watched as Emery’s head turned toward the source of the noise. Even with a shredded knee, Victor had somehow found a way to stand. “You can talk to him all you want, but there’s no one in there. He’s dead inside.”

  Mason’s eyes stayed on Emery. He’s wrong! I’m still here! He wanted to scream the words, but his mouth wouldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried.

  “What are you waiting for?” Victor yelled. “Attack her!”

  Don’t listen to him. Don’t do it. But it was no use. Mason raised his baton in the air and lunged forward, striking it down toward her shoulder.

  “Mason, please!” she yelled as she dodged the attack and rolled to the other side of the room. She pulled the electrified dagger from her waistband as she popped back up into a fighting stance, holding it at the ready. “Please don’t make me do this,” she whispered. “I can’t go through this again.”

  He willed his body not to move. To drop the weapons. To surrender to her. Just stop, his mind begged. It will all be over if I just stop.

  To his dismay, he found himself lunging forward again, this time with the gun pointed directly at her head. Emery’s eyes widened as she crouched quickly to the right, her dagger clattering to the floor. He stumbled over it and lost his footing along the way.

  Emery took the opportunity to charge at him, weaponless. She grabbed the top of the baton and yanked it from his hand, then grabbed both of his wrists. She sank into a low fighting stance and twisted his wrists away from each other, somehow using the motion to disarm him of his gun. She stumbled backward with the gun in hand and pointed it directly at his chest. Her hands were shaking, eyes wide with terror. The chamber loaded as she cocked the pistol. “Please, Mason! Back off!”

  Listen to her. But neither his nor her pleas mattered. He was a machine. One of Novak’s robots.

  He side-stepped to try to divert her attention, knowing very well that she might pull the trigger, then swung his arm and landed a haymaker punch right across her cheek. A series of cracks erupted as her jaw loosened from its socket and her neck flew backward. Her body thrashed to the side from the impact and the gun flew from her fingers, scattering across the room.

  He watched in horror as blood spewed from her mouth like a geyser, wanting to catch her before she hit the ground with a deafening thud. Her hands flew up to her face and she groaned as she rolled onto her side.

  As if he hadn’t done enough already, he approached her, slowly, and geared up to kick her in the side not once, but twice. You’re hurting her! A voice screamed inside of his head. You moron! You’re going to kill her!

  A dark purple bruise had already started to form where he’d struck her, just below her temple. Blood continued to spurt from her mouth as she coughed again and again, unable to catch her breath.

  Go to her. Help her. Do something! But his pleas were useless. He walked over to where the gun had scattered during their scuffle and picked it up, the cool metal soothing his stinging hand. He looked around at the other soldiers who were still in full-fledged battle with Emery’s father and Torin. Mason lifted the gun and aimed it right at her forehead.

  She finally caught her breath as she stared down the barrel. A single tear fell down her cheek. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “This isn’t you doing this. It’s okay.”

  Drop the gun, drop the gun, drop the gun. Those three words repeated in his head over and over again. He hoped that, somehow, amidst all of the chaos, he’d finally find a way to control his actions. His finger hovered over the trigger. Don’t shoot, don’t shoot, don’t shoot.

  He wished that there was something, anything, that could stop him from what he was about to do. I can’t kill her. Don’t kill her.

  But the microchip Novak had created was too powerful. It had its hold on him, and there was no breaking free from it. His chip had been preprogrammed to complete one mission and one mission only: destroy the enemy. It chose who lived, and it chose who died. There was nothing he could do about it.

  I’m sorry Emery. Please forgive me.

  Just as he began to put pressure on the trigger, a gunshot sounded, but it wasn’t from his gun.

  The deep grey eyes in front of him morphed into a pained expression as he collapsed onto the floor. Mason let out one final breath.

  Emery was the last thing he saw.

  45

  Emery wailed as a bullet tore straight through Mason’s skull, his body thumping to the ground.

  Oh my god. Oh my god.

  She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. It felt as though her mind were in a state of complete paralysis.

  With shaking hands, she turned her head in the direction the bullet had come from. Naia still lay on the ground, motionless. Her father was in the middle of fighting off the last remaining soldier. And then there was Torin.

  With a smoking pistol dangling from his hand.

  He was still for a moment, his eyes trained on Emery. As his gaze shifted to Mason, Torin fell to his knees as the impact of what he’d just done began to sink in.

  Emery’s eyes brimmed with tears as she watched the agony on his face grow with each passing second. As much as it pained her, she looked again at Mason’s lifeless body. Memories of downtown Chicago came flooding back to her.

  Theo. The gun. Mason.

  As heart wrenching as that experience had been, she’d found a way to save him. The sanaré had brought Mason back to life. She had brought Mason back to life.

  She frantically searched her pockets, knowing full well that there was no more sanaré. That this time was different. There was no saving him. He was really gone.

  There’s no bringing him back.

  Despite her shock, it dawned on her that Torin had just saved her life. Mason had been under Novak’s control, so there was nothing stopping him from shooting her. He would have done it. Mason would have killed her. He almost had. But Torin had stopped him.

  Watching someone die for the second time is incomprehensible.

  She fell to her knees and crawled over to Mason’s body, throwing her arms over him. She squeezed, tighter and tighter, rocking back and forth. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You didn’t deserve this.” She lay there for a few minutes, holding him, wishing more than anything that she could feel his heart beat one last time.

  The room was silent. The world was still. For once, she could finally see clearly. For once, she finally understood. With one last look at Mason’s face, she pulled herself up off the ground and wiped a tear from her eye. Boiling anger r
eplaced her sadness. She was done with death. She was done with Novak. This all ended.

  Right. Now.

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and, even through all the physical and mental pain, began to limp toward the control station.

  Byron had just finished taking out the last soldier and was now standing over Victor, who’d taken advantage of the current situation and had been trying to crawl over to the mainstation.

  With blazing eyes and an angry shout, Byron lifted Victor up by the collar of his shirt and reamed one of his fists into the chief’s stomach. Victor doubled over in pain and started to wheeze uncontrollably, unable to catch his breath.

  When his breathing finally returned to normal, he spat, “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Without answering, Byron tightened his grip and kneed the chief square in the stomach. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth, spraying the grey stone with specks of red. “Is that enough? Or do you want more?”

  Victor held up a reluctant hand, palm open, signaling his surrender, but it didn’t matter. Byron walked behind him and secured his arm across his chest. He grabbed a fistful of white hair and tugged backward, forcing the chief to watch whatever was about to take place.

  Albeit on unsteady legs, Emery finally arrived at the mainstation, the pendant still dangling from her fingertips. She glanced over at Torin, who was still on the floor, completely grief-stricken. She took a deep breath. “I need you, Torin,” she called out to him. Her voice sounded calm from the outside, but on the inside, she was violently thrashing.

  “I-I . . . di-didn’t mean to . . .” Torin sputtered.

  “It’s okay,” she reassured, even though her heart had just been shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. “It’s time for this to finally be over. So let’s finish it. For good.” She forced a smile. “You and me.”

  Torin remained still for a moment. His breathing was labored and he looked as though he were about to vomit.

  “Come on, Torin,” Emery said boldly, even though she wanted nothing more than to curl up and die. “I need you.”