Cerulean Feathers

Chapter 17

Luke clutched his gun tightly.

The jostle of the van as Scotty drove kept pulling him out of his thoughts before drowning in them again.

It wasn't Brock.

How had Ohm been so confident?

He knew Omegas had some sort of strange connection with each other, but for all of them to be so convinced it hadn't been Brock had unnerved him.

It had to be an Omega, right?

So who was lying?

Was one of them mimicking the rest to blend in?

Or had Brock really attempted to kill Jonathan, and the other Omegas just couldn't wrap their minds around it?

The van jostled again, and Luke held his gun tighter.

The Alpha checked the window next to him, seeing vague shadows and shapes as the thin moon illuminated the early morning.

He could see a mass of horns and antlers weaving between containers and boats. It looked like a new shipment had arrived, the boat still tied to the docks as the Alphas raided its contents.

He glanced at Smitty beside him.

The Omega had been staring at the sniper in his hand practically since they had left, so Luke placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Dark eyes glanced up curiously.

"We'll be okay, we've done this hundreds of times before,"

He reassured, ignoring the stone of worry that sat in his gut.

Smitty attempted a weak smile, but his gaze quickly fell back to the sniper.

John glanced at Luke from Smitty's other side before looking down at his suppressed pistol.

Luke ground his teeth together before turning his gaze to his own gun, a sniper rifle.

He hated the unease that seemed to follow the gang since the attack on Jonathan.

He wished he could hold Ohm, or at least see him with his lucky twin pistols.

Luke felt a smile pull at his lips as he imagined the Omega firing off rounds.

His boyfriend had always managed to make anything look hot.

Luke looked up as the van stopped.

Doors were thrown open and wings pounded the salty air.

Bullets tore through the crashing waves.

An Alpha fell to the asphalt.

---

Smitty grit his teeth as he glared through the scope on his gun.

His wings pounded the sea breeze in rhythmic strokes, his arms adjusting to aim at the Alphas below.

He loved shooting while flying.

The other Omegas preferred landing before taking their shots, but Smitty liked adjusting his height and distance as needed.

Plus, he felt like a badass.

Smitty heard a bullet whiz past his head and flicked his scope toward an Alpha with a gun pointed at him.

He found his crosshairs and pressed the trigger.

The body crumpled and Smitty felt a smirk tug his lips.

He glanced down at John, seeing the Alpha let out a cheer as he gunned down a few more.

A few of the others glanced at him cautiously, their warnings long worn out on his ears from previous missions.