Ransom by Callie Rhodes

Chapter Seventeen

Ransom lay propped up on his elbow, watching his omega sleep as dawn turned the inside of the tent a glowing pink.

The last four days had left their mark on both of them. Gretchen had gouged long scratches in Ransom's back with her fingernails, and she'd picked up a few bruises and love bites of her own. But those were already healing. The most enduring effect of her first heat was the exhaustion evident in the purple smudges under her eyes and the perfect stillness of her deep slumber.

She'd been riding him hard under the crescent moon last night when suddenly she'd slowed like a child's wind-up toy. Her eyes drifted closed, and she slid off him. She would have landed in the soft grass of the field near their tent if he hadn't caught her.

Ransom had picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the tent. She was so exhausted her limbs had flopped like a rag doll's when he'd set her down. It was no surprise. Four days of non-stop lovemaking had a way of consuming every ounce of an omega's energy.

Ransom, on the other hand, had never felt better. Sure, he was a little sore, maybe. He wouldn't say no to a nap or a long bath either. The only thing stopping him from ducking out of the tent to wash up was the urge to stay by Gretchen's side.

Even though he knew from what he'd seen in the Basement that this deep sleep after a heat was normal for omegas, he didn't know how long it would last. She'd already been passed out for hours and hadn't stirred once. After all the things her body had been through, Ransom wouldn't be surprised if she slept for days.

Which meant he was probably fine to go take a dip and catch some food while he was out. While he was down by the bank, he could also gather some green limbs from saplings to make snares.

And he could start knotting the ripcord from the jeep into a simple fishing net. After that he'd get started on the shelter situation. The tent was fine, but Ransom would feel a lot better after he built them something sturdier, which meant cutting and stripping logs for a lean-to.

All of which he'd get started on any minute now…just as soon as he figured out how the hell the last four days had happened.

A few years ago, Fulmer had devised one of his sickest tests. Placing three omegas in the cell with Ransom, he shocked them with ever greater voltage until they touched him. None had changed.

So why had Gretchen?

There could be no doubt that she had. Her scent had come into full bloom, growing sweeter and more complex. And there was the matter of her slick: it had flowed from her almost unceasingly, great viscous torrents that tasted like heaven's elixir.

But even if he'd had none of those sensory clues to go by, Ransom still would have known she'd become his omega from the effect she had on him. He felt way better than a man who'd been having sex for four days had a right to—stronger, sharper, more alert than ever.

But the most undeniable proof was the connection between them. Before, Ransom had tracked Gretchen using his senses—hearing, sight, and smell. Now it was as though he'd developed an additional sense tuned just to her. Even with his eyes closed, he knew exactly where she was. If he strayed too far away from her, he felt…wrong. Disconnected from his life force.

Under normal circumstances, a dormant omega's transition was immediate. All it took was one touch, and the genetic switch was flipped.

But that hadn't been the case with Gretchen. Her new nature had come on slowly, growing day by day…just as their relationship had.

Ransom narrowed his eyes as he gazed down at his new mate. Was that the answer? Had sex been the key to unlocking this new ability of his? Or had it simply been prolonged physical closeness? There was no way to be certain.

All he knew was that nature was a troublesome enemy to fight. Fulmer might have found a way to chemically block one path of an alpha's virility. Still, just like with every other battle, it refused to surrender. Instead, it had adapted, pushing forward as it always did.

Ransom leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Gretchen's smooth brow before slipping out of the tent. She was everything he'd ever wanted, but the best way he could take care of her now was to let her rest. So he padded to the water’s edge and plunged into the deepest part of the river. He treaded water lazily, enjoying the pressure of the current around him, but he couldn't drag his thoughts away from his omega.

Ransom might not understand how this had come to pass, but he knew one thing for certain—not just because he'd heard it from his brothers but because he felt it: the bond was forever. Nothing would break it, and nothing would change his omega back.

Which meant that Ransom had been gifted with a miracle. He'd given up hope of ever having a mate even before he gave up the rest of his dreams, just another thing that Fulmer had stolen from him. But it looked like the bastard wasn't going to win this time. Even if Ransom was cut down tomorrow, he still would have lived more fully than he ever thought possible.

He knew that Fulmer wouldn't stop looking, but Ransom was going to make it his job to keep him at bay. Eventually, Gretchen would settle into her new nature. For now, he just had to keep her safe.

It wouldn't be easy. He knew from his own experience that a transition in nature was one of the most demanding experiences a person could go through—but in Gretchen's case, she was dealing with more than changes at the molecular level. She was on the run, hunted, in unfamiliar surroundings.

On the other hand, his omega was strong—and braver than she knew. From the sound of it, Gretchen had already been fighting for a long time, just for the right to pursue her passion. Every obstacle she'd overcome had made her tougher and more resilient, whether she realized it or not.

Ransom would have liked to meet the formidable 'Mad Dog' Conrad, but Gretchen was wrong to believe she could never live up to her mother's legacy. Gretchen was a warrior in her own right, a beta with the courage of her convictions, a woman unafraid to stand up to the men who tried to keep her down. Ransom was going to enjoy watching her come into her nature, discovering that she was capable of so much more than she'd ever dreamed.

And he meant to be at her side, protecting her, through all of it. No matter what happened…no matter what unholy fury Fulmer tried to unleash on them…he would be with her until the very end.

Ransom didn't know why fate had chosen to bring them together in a blood-soaked field under a sky dark with ash, and he didn't care. He was filled with the truth now, the undeniable knowledge that Gretchen had always been meant to be his omega. Nothing could have kept them apart—not his imprisonment, not the beta army, not some fucking omega blood test. Fulmer had tried to destroy him, but he'd failed—because Ransom's fate was stronger. The bond he shared with his omega would not be denied.

At last, the thoughts racing in Ransom's mind settled, replaced by the peace of knowing that all of this was meant to be. As long as he and his omega were together, everything would be all right.

He swam to shore in a few strokes and was stepping onto shore when he sensed it—an ominous vibration, a faint drone. Ransom's jaw hardened to steel, and his fists clenched—he knew what was coming, and that knowledge filled him with rage.

A helicopter—twin-engine, four-blade, with an astonishing external lift capacity that marked it as military. The same kind that had transported Fulmer and his troops to the sight of the fire.

Ransom instantly started running for the tent. He wasn't even halfway there before he heard the sound of a second bird, both of them headed his way.

How the hell had the son of a bitch found them? Gretchen's phone hadn't been touched in days. The jeep and tent were hidden under the cover of the trees. They hadn't ventured from the site once, and Ransom hadn't caught a whiff of any reconnaissance crews.

Fulmer must've stepped up his game and started using thermal imaging satellites, the kind he always talked about using for security back in the Basement.

No matter how Fulmer had done it, Ransom needed to act fast. He burst into the tent. Gretchen was still so deeply asleep that she didn't so much as stir.

Damn it. She was utterly defenseless in this state. As long as she was unconscious, he'd never be able to protect her and attack the incoming betas at the same time. His only choice was to find a safe place to hide her sleeping body while steering the battle far away from her.

Scooping Gretchen up, Ransom rushed out into the trees. His gaze scanned the surroundings, evaluating every possibility in rapid succession. It only took a fraction of a second to decide on the best one.

Gretchen barely stirred in his arms as he sprinted for the hollow in the old, towering tree. Her eyes didn't even twitch as he settled her into the loamy, dark space at its center.

Ransom ripped branches off the tree and mounded them at the base until the hole was completely covered.

"I'll be back for you," he promised before spinning around, ready to bring the fight to the betas.

Ransom quickly covered the quarter mile between the camp and the landing site, arriving before the first one touched down. He stood motionless, watching as the rotors sent up clouds of dust, his head held high and his arms loose at his sides.

Six soldiers leapt from the first helicopter—seven from the other. Thirteen in all.

Ransom stretched out the muscles in his neck.

Thirteen heavily armed, highly trained assassins and a couple of pilots. Not surprisingly, Fulmer was nowhere to be seen.

It figured. The man had never done his own dirty work before; there was no reason he'd pick today to start.

No matter, Ransom thought as he braced for the onslaught. That fight could wait for another day.

* * *

Gretchen woke to the scent of wet moss and evergreen needles. She tried to roll over, to get more comfortable, but every muscle in her body felt sluggish and achy. Her brain felt the same way, like the morning after she finished a whole bottle of wine on her own and overslept.

But when she struggled to open her eyes, all she saw was darkness.

That's when the other memories came rushing in—a montage of her and Ransom, naked, doing things she'd never imagined before. Blood rushed to her sore pussy as she tried to make sense of the tumbling images, too many of them to have taken place. To do everything in those shocking images would have taken days.

Days…which was how long an omega's heat was rumored to last.

Gretchen attempted to sit up, frantically trying to sort out what had happened to her. Along with the bone-deep exhaustion and soreness in her body, there was another ache, this one unfamiliar— a soul-deep yearning that was stronger than any she'd ever known.

Ransom—she knew with utter certainty that what she was feeling was his absence. It made no sense, but everything from her focus to her breath felt wrong, and it would continue to until he came back.

Where was he? Gretchen finally managed to sit up, her elbows and knees bumping into spongy walls. A bit of light filtered through what appeared to be dense branches. Slowly, Gretchen realized that she was no longer at the campsite but inside a huge tree.

What the hell?

She reached out to tear the branches away but stopped short. There was only one person who could have put her here and covered her up. Ransom must have had a good reason to hide her, and until she knew what it was, she was better off staying out of sight.

Gretchen did an admirable job of keeping her pulse and heart rate under control…until she heard the first round of gunfire. Then there was no stopping her panic.

Instantly, she knew what was happening out there. They'd been found again.

Just outside the curtain of branches, a twig snapped. Gretchen's terror skyrocketed, and she clamped both her hands over her mouth.

Oh, God.Someone was out there. Someone who definitely was not Ransom.

It was hard to explain how she knew. The ache in her heart told her so.

Her heart hammered as time slowed. Gretchen froze, too afraid to even breathe. Tension radiated through every muscle fiber, and it felt like it would go on forever.

But it turned out that was wishful thinking.

Seconds later, the curtain of branches was snatched away, and Gretchen blinked against the blinding sunlight.

A man was standing a few feet away with a cold smirk on his face and a gun pointed at her.

"Well, well, well," he said in a mocking tone. "Imagine that. Now, what could my little friend from the press conference be doing all tucked away in a tree?"

The press conference?

Gretchen's stomach dropped. Oh God, it couldn't be. But when she blinked again, the familiar face of the black-suited man came into focus.

Fulmer.

Gretchen recoiled in fear, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped.

"To think that I've actually been worried about the trouble you might cause me," he mused. "Imagine my concern when I found out you weren't some backwoods nobody, but Mad Dog Conrad's daughter. Your mother had quite the fearsome reputation. She managed to bring down men even more powerful than me."

"Damn right she did."

"But fortunately for me, you aren't your mother, are you?" Scorn dripped from his every word. "You're nothing but a little slut, just like all the other bitches I threw at the alphas."

Gretchen's jaw tightened. Slowly, anger was edging out the fear inside her. "Maybe, but this bitch can still write, asshole. And I've sent copies of Ransom's story to every major news outlet in the country."

Fulmer's oily grin didn't slip. "Oh, I know. Just like I know that every last one of them refused you."

"Not the Times," she shot back. Not yet, at least.

That earned her a twitch at the corner of his eyes—a show of vulnerability that Gretchen took great pleasure in. Obviously, the man wasn't as bulletproof as he made himself out to be.

"But they will," he snarled. "I'll make them see reason one way or the other. Not that you'll be around to see it."

Gretchen recoiled against the spongy inner wall of the tree. "Don't you dare touch me."

Fulmer tutted. "Calm down. I'm not here to kill you. You're far too valuable for that. You ought to be flattered that I came to get you myself."

"Because I'm so valuable?" Gretchen spat, trying to buy time. If she could distract him—if she launched herself out of the tree when his guard was down—maybe, just maybe, she could wrestle the gun away. But deep down, she knew her muscles were still too depleted. "Why is that, anyway?"

"I've been through your medical files, and I know you tested as a true beta." His expression turned crafty. "So I'm asking myself, why is this beta a dead ringer for an exhausted omega fresh off her first heat?"

Gretchen flinched. The director made what she and Ransom had done sound filthy when it was anything but. Her heat had cemented the bond between them, one that seemed sacred now, the most important part of her being.

"Why are you asking me?" she demanded. "You're the one who's been screwing with nature."

Fulmer laughed.

"So I have," he said. "Though I take issue with your choice of words. It's all a matter of science, you see—hypotheses, testing, and data. I wasn't 'screwing' with anything. I was conducting experiments. And it looks like I just found my newest one."

With that, he reached in and locked his hand around her wrist with surprising strength—and pulled her out into the open.