Ransom by Callie Rhodes

Chapter Eighteen

One by one, they fell.

It was their own damn fault. The blood dripping from the rocks and trees was caused by the betas' own hubris, a product of their unfounded belief that they not only could take down an alpha and his mate in the wild but deserved to.

Ripping through the ranks of these puppet-soldiers was almost laughably easy. Eight out of the thirteen were dispatched in the span of a few minutes. Sensing that they were fighting a losing battle, the remaining five had quickly retreated, rushing back to the helicopters to make their escape.

Ransom let them go—not because he was feeling merciful, but because he sensed reinforcements on their way. It seemed that the air troops were just the first wave in Fulmer's attack.

Closing in fast were at least a score of jeeps like the one Ransom had hijacked that first day. It wasn't difficult for him to keep track of their moments. Once they hit the tree line, the vehicles started fanning out to encircle him.

No doubt, the bastards thought the move would give them the tactical advantage they needed, but they were wrong. Dead wrong.

Nothing could stop Ransom now.

It wasn't just protecting Gretchen that had sent his heightened abilities into overdrive. There was more to it than that. Ransom could feel it in his veins. His senses, his skills—they far outpaced a typical alpha's abilities.

He had changed into something else. Something more.

And there could only be one reason why.

Fulmer, in his attempts to push Ransom to his limits, had gotten more than he bargained for. All those experiments, all those tests and serums, using the alphas as lab rats for endurance and stamina and immune response had backfired. Instead of finding the key to beta dominance, the bastard had accidentally created a superior alpha.

The proof was all around. The scar left by the bullet only days ago had already faded away. Somehow, though he'd just wiped out more betas than could be counted on one hand. His stamina was increasing, not flagging. Ransom could feel his power surging with every bullet he dodged, every assault he blunted, every killing blow.

And then there was the greatest proof of all—Gretchen.

She was the sweetest revenge he could have ever asked for. The one thing Fulmer had strived for—to take away an alpha's purpose—hadn't just been a failure but a glorious defeat. If there were other escaped alphas out there like him—and Ransom didn't doubt for a second that there were—then their futures were no longer bound to games of genetic chance.

Any woman they wanted could be theirs.

Any.

Now they could live life on their own terms. By their own rules. Slay those who dared to try to take what was theirs. Defend their women with their lives. Live free, even if it meant tearing beta civilization apart.

Ransom stood in the center of the circle of vehicles that were quickly tightening around him, ready to face the next battle. But before the first shot could be fired, the hot summer breeze carried a too-familiar scent his way.

Bilious and sour, there was only one man evil enough to give off that stench.

Fulmer.

Feet firmly planted on the ground, Ransom spun toward the direction of the foul scent as the jeeps pulled into position. Much to his surprise, every one of them held their fire.

The muscles in Ransom's jaw tightened. That wasn't a good sign. There was only one reason they would be under orders not to shoot him on sight—Fulmer was planning a grand reveal. One he wanted Ransom to be alive to see.

And Ransom caught wind of his surprise just moments before the beta bastard emerged from the woods—the tell-tale sweet ginger scent of his woman.

Throwing back his head, he let out a roar loud enough to shake the heavens as Gretchen was dragged into view. Ever the coward, Fulmer held her by the hair, desecrating her beautiful tresses with his boney fingers, shoving her in front of him as a shield. The son of a bitch even had the audacity to smirk as he pressed a gun to her delicate white neck.

"Number forty-two. I have to admit, you've led me on a hell of a chase." Any grudging admiration in Fulmer's voice was overshadowed by pure hatred. "I take it you were the one responsible for the explosion at the facility."

Ransom let his growl answer for him. His whole body tensed with rage, ready to strike.

But Fulmer read his body language and tightened his grip on Gretchen's hair, causing her to gasp in pain. "Not a good plan, friend. I think you're better off staying right where you are," he said. "At least, she certainly is. You might be fast, but not faster than a bullet."

"Let her go," Ransom choked out, pure anger searing his veins.

"Hmmm." Fulmer pretended to think it over. "No, I don't think I will. I don't know if you ever had a chance to play poker before being relocated to the Basement, Forty-two, but only an idiot would fold while holding a winning hand." He caressed Gretchen's cheek with the cold steel barrel. "You see, I've got your omega. Your one vulnerability. And that means I'm the one who will be calling the shots."

"Let her go," Ransom thundered. Above him, dozens of birds took to the air.

"I'll admit, I was…surprised when you were able to change a true beta," Fulmer continued as if Ransom hadn't said a word. "I didn't know that was possible. But it appears that my work has accidentally conferred some new abilities on you. Abilities that, as I'm sure my dead colleagues would agree, warrant further study."

"Every second you keep her from me," Ransom snarled, "you earn more pain. I promise you that."

"Touchy, touchy! Relax, Forty-two, there's a silver lining that you're not seeing." Fulmer lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Surrender peacefully, and I'll put you and your pretty little omega in a cell together. I'll even have a larger one custom-built so one of you can relax while the other is helping out with our research." He flinched slightly at the sound of Ransom's growl before continuing. "No harm will come to you—at least not for a good long while. You have my promise."

It was that word—promise—that turned Ransom's vision red, the same color the blood he was getting ready to spill. Fulmer, with his lies and conniving and monstrous self-interest, had no right to it.

"This is the last offer I'm going to make. Let Gretchen go now, and your death will be easier."

Fulmer laughed. "Now, what in the world would make you think I'd agree to that? Sure, you've tussled with a few of my men one-on-one, but you’re surrounded now. And I can promise these troops aren't carrying standard-issue rifles. This time I sent them with real weapons. Ones that can turn the spot you’re standing on into a smoking crater with you as a pile of dust at the bottom."

Ransom knew Fulmer was telling the truth. It was just like him to break out the big guns only when it was his life on the line.

It didn't matter. These soldiers could throw an entire arsenal at Ransom, and he'd still keep going. As long as Gretchen's life was on the line, he'd find a way.

Oddly, the best way he could see at the moment didn't involve any violence. The five surviving members of the first wave had retreated when they'd realized the futility of the fight they'd been dropped into. Perhaps these other soldiers could also be made to see reason.

"I didn't 'tussle' with them. I killed them. I didn't want to. Just like don't want to kill any of these men. All I want is my woman and my freedom. But make no mistake, any more blood that is shed today will be on your hands, not mine."

Fulmer rolled his eyes, unimpressed by the speech, but Ransom could sense a shift in the air. Most of these men were rank and file soldiers, not Fulmer's hand-picked squad whose ranks Ransom must have already decimated over the past few days.

These men had no particular allegiance to Fulmer or his mission. What they did have were families and friends and lives back at the base, and they were very interested in living to see tomorrow.

So Ransom kept talking.

"You do realize that the ability to turn a beta into an omega wasn't the only gift you gave me." Ransom was looking into Gretchen's eyes now, reminding her of his promise to protect her forever. "I'm faster now. Stronger. Deadlier. I wouldn't be so sure there's anything you could arm these men with that's powerful enough to stop me."

The sense of unease rapidly increased. A few of the men lowered their guns. Others shared worried glances.

"Look around you," Ransom said, not even bothering to direct his words to Fulmer anymore but addressing the soldiers. "This soil is drenched in the blood of your comrades. And for what? This man's pride? His refusal to admit defeat? You don't have to end up like them. Don't be fools. You don't have to sacrifice your life for some madman's delusional dream of domination."

Fulmer must have sensed the change in atmosphere because his lips tightened into a hard flat line. "Hold your ground, men," he snapped. "That's an order."

"Anorder?" Ransom laughed. "Who the hell are you to give orders? You're not a general. You've never fought a day in your life. You're nothing but a coward in a bad suit shielding yourself behind other men’s bravery."

The unmistakable sound of an engine turning over was followed by the first vehicle pulling away from the others, picking up speed as it shot toward the road. Half a dozen men raced toward a second jeep, and it followed the first.

Then another. More men were running than those left standing.

"You see that, Fulmer? These men are getting out while they still can. They're abandoning you."

Fulmer's eyes went wide, not just in fear but in absolute disbelief. It was obvious that the possibility of being left behind had never occurred to him.

"Stop," he yelled into the wind as the remaining soldiers gave up the fight and retreated. "Come back, or I'll see you all court martialed!"

Somehow Ransom doubted that would happen. Whatever power Fulmer had was slipping away. Somewhere among these troops a real commander would emerge and start calling the shots, one who knew enough to save his men for a fight worth dying for.

"I ought to kill you for that," Fulmer yelled as the last of the jeeps drove away. He yanked Gretchen’s hair in frustration and she stumbled, too exhausted from her heat to keep her balance. She was forced to grab onto Fulmer's belt to steady herself.

Or had she?

Ransom's eyes narrowed as she righted herself again. Sunlight glinted off something concealed behind her forearm. A whiff of cunning in her scent alerted him that she'd been waiting for her moment.

She was planning something.

Ransom could only hope it wouldn’t get her killed, because she still had a loaded gun pressed against her.

He gave her a pleading look. Don't do anything reckless.

She flashed a ghost of a smile in response.

Despite the chaos and danger, the connection between them held strong. Ransom had no idea how he’d been lucky enough to find someone so brave, so strong, so—

Gretchen suddenly wrenched her entire body, attempting to twist free of Fulmer's grasp, and Ransom’s heart leapt to his throat when the bastard managed to hang on.

Then a high-pitched scream ripped through the air. Not Gretchen’s—Fulmer's.

Ransom barreled forward as Gretchen tumbled to the ground. Knowing Fulmer still held the gun, he covered her with his body as a deafening blast rang out.

Ransom waited for the sting of the bullet, but it didn't come. When he lifted his head, he saw why.

Fulmer teetered on trembling legs, his hands covering his bloody crotch. Gravity slowly dragged him to his knees, squealing in unearthly pain. Between his fingers, Ransom spotted the hilt of a long tactical knife, its blade deep in Fulmer's nutsack.

So that's what Gretchen had taken from his belt during her 'fall'.

Ransom rolled off his omega and dusted himself off. There was no need to rush. The son of a bitch wasn't going anywhere.

This time there would be no escape.

Fulmer was writhing on the ground now, and Ransom placed his foot almost gently on his chest, pinning him. He bent down and grabbed a hank of the bastard's hair—just as he’d dared to do to Ransom’s omega.

Then he looked the beta dead in the eye. "No torture I could inflict on you can return what you took from me. So take this to your grave instead—you didn't break me. You didn't win. I've found love. I'm going to live a long, happy life, and you're going suffer in hell."

Damn, that felt good.

But there was one more thing.

"This is for my brother Ryan," he spat, and yanked his arm back with all his might. The beta's head tore from his neck with a wet pop.

And then it was over.

Ransom tossed the head far into the woods, unwilling to look at the face of evil even a second longer. That part of his life was over. Now it was time to move on to what really mattered.

"How are you, my love?" he asked, lifting Gretchen into his arms.

"I'm—I'm—" Her teeth were chattering so hard she could barely speak.

"Hush," Ransom murmured, kissing her hair over and over. "I'm here."

He carried her toward the river to wash the blood and gore from their bodies. Already he could feel her tension easing. Her racing heart slowed. She snuggled in close. By the time he reached the water's edge, her fear had calmed enough for her to speak.

"I'm fine," she said as he lowered her beautiful body into the water. The gentle current did its work, washing away Fulmer's sins. "Did you just call me 'my love'?"

"Don't tell me that surprises you, woman," he said with a smile. "I just took out a whole battalion to save your life."

She gave a laugh—a weak one, but a laugh all the same. It was the most beautiful sound Ransom had ever heard. "And I'm right back to being 'woman' again. Pick a pet name and stick with it."

"'My love' then," Ransom rumbled, nestling her closer against him, a sensation more perfect than any he ever thought possible. "You, woman, will always be my one love."