Klaus
Klaus's world had been ending.
The room smelled of antiseptic and smoke, as though the fire outside had snuck in, burrowed into the corners, sunk into his bones. It sat heavily in his lungs, tasting of ash, static and grit. Through the windows, the sky was the colour of dirt, smoke adrift, a slow suffocation of the falling sun.
Sirens were stitched into the air. And somewhere out there, fire ate at the districts, taking them down one by one. The city was screaming. Lonely roared in the distance.
Fire everywhere. Years of development, of research, of rebuilding.
Gone.
Klaus reclined, bone-tired and heavy.
He should be outside, as their ruler, as their king. He should be with his people, with the packs that were fighting to hold the lines. But his knees felt like stone, his body weighed down by his decisions, his choices. His fucking mistakes. More and more were turning every hour, every minute. The affliction was spreading faster now, feeding on fear, grief and rage. Sorrow flavoured the air.
There were riots.
Mass killings.
Packs tearing each other apart in the streets.
Klaus closed his eyes. He was afraid. He was fucking frightened.
He didn't know how it had begun. Maybe a tussle, men angered by those who hid the transformed and the transforming. People had feared others stained by ink. They'd gone for them, killed them, and then they too were changing. They soon pressed a gun to their own shaking temples.
A massacre.
Dominoes falling.
It was a bloodbath of terror. The civilization imploding. Quinn was right; the weaker ones went first. The women. And then the desperate, and then everyone else. He could not stop his people from doing what fear told them to do. No order, no word from him could end their state of mind.
They had crossed the point of no return.
A frightened animal would bite its own tail, chew on the ligaments and bones until it bled out and died. They would turn to anything, to hope, to religion, to salvation. And when that failed them, they'd lose their minds. Zen had been the first to try; he'd bellowed orders through speakers with his clothes still stiff from gore, blood crusting on his chin.
Consuming the heart of an Alpha is not the cure.
The Alphas cannot be killed.
Claim your Alphas.
It is the only way to slow down the change.
But it was too late. It'd taken them days to arrive; too much time had been wasted. Too many Alphas were dead. There weren't enough Alphas to go around amongst the people. There were packs fighting to steal Alphas, to take other hearts to staunch their transformation. And even with the broadcasts playing in the air, there was just too much violence, too much fear.
His soldiers could barely do a thing with the Lonely prowling the streets.
And he could not even begin to think about the people—His tears flowed then. The people who'd boarded themselves in and starved. His men could not save them. Those who survived were the ones who had escaped to Azarius before they'd closed the gates.
The last stand in the Kingdom of Omegas.
"What if I had listened to Quinn?" he asked into the silence. "What if I had tried to save more lives?" The honesty in his words almost seemed to suffocate him, and yet the truth allowed him a moment of relief.
The door creaked.
One of his soldiers stepped in. Barely an adult, more of a boy, shaking as he slipped into the room. His eyes flicked to Quinn on the bed, then back to Klaus with a bow.
"What do we do?" His voice was hoarse, cracking a little from the smoke, but too loud in the quiet room. "The south's gone. More turned an hour ago. The remaining soldiers in Azarius are waiting for your orders."
Klaus didn't look at him. He looked at her.
Quinn's lashes fanned out over her cheeks like soot, skin pale, lips a rosy red. Her chest rose and fell in slow, shallow drags. She was still beautiful despite the sickness, and his Omega yearned for her, the connection throbbing, alive, and hot.
The scent of her peach was too soft in the air.
It was the claim on her throat that caught his eyes, a vivid, furious red. The claim had healed the rest of the pack. All Zen, Rowan, and Helios had to show for it were the mottled bruises on their skin. The slight ache in their muscles from a tear that had healed too quickly.
But they were safe.
They were healthy.
They were alive.
It had worked. Days later, no signs of Lonely lingered in their souls. Mating with the Alpha seemed to be a temporary stopper, and a fucking brilliant one. Claiming her had saved all their lives. It was only Quinn who remained comatose, unable to rouse from her slumber.
Solar and Helios had burned themselves out trying to heal her, to get her to wake, to rise from her sleep. His doctors, or at least what remained of them, had shaken their heads. He didn't need to hear what they had to say to know the truth.
Too long.
She'd spent too long dead.
He refused to acknowledge the devastation, the yawn of the chasm in his chest. So many responsibilities breaking in his hands. He felt small, smaller than ever before. His wolf mewled, begging for help, for reprieve from the guilt, the regret, the wrongs.
"We hold," Klaus said. His voice was too low, too flat. "Keep the fires back. Azarius must remain standing. I want the packs who've claimed their Alphas to report back to me—"
"But sir—"
Klaus's head snapped up abruptly. Everything that held him up and kept him going day by day seemed to crash to the ground and splinter. A gaping hole remained in his chest, an unfathomable wrong. "What?" he hissed. Outside, another explosion shook the city, rattling the walls. The lights flickered; wolves howled. The soldier pursed his lips together.
"It's too late," the soldier said, shaking like a leaf. "I'm here to tell you that it's too late. The Lonely will kill us all soon. Azarius has already been breached."
*
Two weeks ago, they'd been furious.
Even Zen wouldn't look at him.
They'd strapped Quinn down, Helios hovering over her with glowing, golden hands. The aircraft had vibrated under their feet; the steady hum of the engine seemed to almost drown out the bond. The hot electric crackle of want wouldn't stop clawing in Klaus's heart.
Mate. His wolf cried, no, sobbed. Our mate is not well. Our mate needs us. She'd been wired to a machine, with electrodes on her skin, an intravenous drip feeding into her arm. The machine beeped too slowly, too damn softly.
Her heart rate was too slow.
The gunshot wound still bubbled with blood. The Lonely's attack remained on her skin, flesh torn. It had his throat growing sharp and sour, vinegar flavoured his tongue. Klaus wanted to speak; he needed to fucking speak. But Helios turned, wings shaking, raising a palm.
"Don't."
One word, one single fucking word. It lashed across the cabin like a fucking whip. It scalded him. Helios's hair seemed to float, and anger boiled from within him, lacing his veins with a new fire. Rage rolled off him in waves of molten fury. His wings stretched. Rowan choked out a sob so ugly Klaus had flinched, turning his face away. Zen remained silent, statue-still, staring at the floor.
The bond was too loud.
Go away, murderer.
Klaus sat back, hands still bloody, still shaking. The gun was still at his side. He didn't look at Quinn again. He didn't trust himself to feel. There was a lot Klaus had to face.
His wolf screamed.
Solar was waiting when they landed at Azarius Castle. The headquarters had long transformed into their temporary home. And it was now filled with research teams, doctors working around the clock. The medics swarmed them.
Quick, efficient hands checked wounds, called out vitals, and bandaged injuries. Miraculously, Zen, Rowan and Helios were completely fine. Just cuts, bruises and exhaustion. Nothing fatal. Nothing lasting. Merely superficial wounds.
Quinn was different.
The doctors froze. Even the fairies drew back, eyes darting to her throat, to the raw, red bite mark there. The plan had been to cut her open. Extract her heart immediately. But not a claimed Alpha, never a claimed Alpha. They stared at the kings in fear, in confusion.
"Fucking heal her," Zen snarled, and his voice was a blade that tore into the wind. His teeth were showing, his claws out. His first words in hours. "I want her awake. Breathing. Now!"
They obeyed.
The world seemed to spin too fast.
It was only when Quinn settled in her ward that they stepped out to have a pack meeting. Klaus felt the weight of their gaze, the weight of his sins, manacles on his feet.
Fuck.
"Klaus," Solar said, voice low and shaking. Icarus stepped out of the shadows next, eyes landing on the bite mark at Quinn's throat. His face went perfectly still.
"She was gone," Klaus rasped, and his voice was like smoke; everything had sandpapered his voice raw. "They were dying. Helios was bleeding; Rowan was fucking tearing apart. Zen—" His voice broke, his despair clawed through him. He swallowed hard. "I didn't have a choice."
"A choice?"
Zen stumbled in behind him then, shirt still stiff with blood, face hollow. Rowan limped, hand on his ribs. Helios dragged his wings along with him like they weighed a million pounds. But their faces were grim, horrifyingly dark. Their anger had fermented into a sickening venom. And Klaus could not speak in the choking burn of their scent.
"A choice?" Rowan repeated. "You call that having no fucking choice?"
"She was dying." Helios's mouth twisted into something between a smile and a snarl. "You must have felt it. You all know exactly what happened. We had to do it; we had to bite her to save her." Solar and Icarus exchanged looks. For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then all hell broke loose.
"You bit her?" Solar roared, voice cracking the air in two. "How could you claim her when she was dying? Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"She was DYING!" Zen bared his teeth. The sound that tore out of him was feral, the Omega in him crackling just beneath the skin. "You didn't see her! You didn't feel—"
"We felt it," Icarus snapped back, his own incisors showing. "Every fucking second of it." His voice cracked on the last word, his hands curling into fists. "You think your mates didn't suffer with you? You think we didn't feel every fucking scream? How could you risk your lives—"
"She saved us." Rowan's voice was softer, but too cold. "We were going to court her." His eyes flared gold. "We loved her. We were not going to let her go, don't you understand?"
"She saved our lives again and again in the wastelands," Helios spat, stepped forward, his wings flaring. He took deep breaths as if struggling to calm himself. "Zen was gone. She went in with a gun. She was going to die for him." His hands shook, sparks twisting from fingertips.
Zen stepped in then, eyes flashing crimson. "But she gave me her blood, and I lived. It's not hearts. It never was." He inhaled sharply, shivering through his words. "Hyon ate his Alpha's heart, and he transformed."
Helios nodded, blinking back tears. "You know how I've experienced the Lonely's transformation again and again. You know that Quinn stops me from transforming. Quinn needs to live."
Live.
Klaus's breath stuttered. She looked impossibly small on the bed, bloodless and pale, but breathing. The bond pulsed between them all, raw and new, burning like wildfire.
Solar sighed. "So, an Alpha's blood? Fluids? We've been doing that for months."
"I don't fucking know," Zen snapped. "But we're all alive. And it's not hearts. I swear to the Gods."
"But—"
"We've tasted it before," Zen's eyes darkened into a violent crimson. He turned to Icarus, who stood hunched in the shadows, . His finger jabbed in his direction, accusation spilling from his tongue. "You told Klaus, didn't you? That she was Euodia." Icarus flinched, stumbled back into himself.
"I—"
"She's NOT her!" Zen roared. "SHE'S NOT THAT FUCKING WOMAN WHO TORTURED US, WHO'S TRIED TO KILL US AGAIN AND AGAIN. THAT WOMAN IS DEAD. SHE'S FUCKING DEAD!" But the fury in Zen's eyes bled into acceptance. He shook his head. "But it's okay," his voice went quiet, gentle. "She saved me, so we saved her."
"Zen—"
"We're not talking about the semantics of what she is," Zen hissed. "But it proves that we've had her heart. And it did nothing; we're still transforming. And I don't fucking care. I love her. I fucking love her. And I'm glad I gave my life for her. I'm fucking glad that I claimed her." His eyes flashed. "I'm not a fucking coward."
Icarus's shoulders slumped. He let out a ragged sob, hands pressed together almost in prayer, whispering her name on his tongue like it might rouse her. They all turned to stare into the ward, through the glass panels, and at the mark on her throat, with wide, shell-shocked eyes.
Their Alpha.
Nobody spoke.
Klaus was shaking. There was blood on his face, blood on his hands. He allowed the weight of what he'd done to crash over him. Drown him, consume him. An Alpha in their pack. His Omega wailed at him for hurting her, replaying the shot again and again.
"She's ours now," Klaus said hoarsely, tentatively as if he couldn't believe it himself. "There's no going back." Doing anything to her now, would break their entire pack into pieces.
They were tied to her forever.
No one said a word.
They just stared at her, at their Alpha, at the one they had nearly lost, at the one Klaus had killed and then dragged back from the edge of death with the skin of his fucking teeth. And in the silence, in the heat of the bond, in the smell of blood and smoke, they all understood what it meant. They understood what he had done.
What it would cost them.
"You were all dead," Solar said suddenly, tears bright in his voice. "I saw it in my visions. The bodies. It was not in our future for you to live," he shook his head, tears in his eyes. "It was just going to be us. Just me. Klaus, Icarus, Elysian and—" He stopped himself, hands to his lips with a noisy gasp.
Klaus's eyes snapped to Solar.
He nodded, expression as bitter as poison.
Of course. That had a slow smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Fuck.
"Where's Elysian?" Rowan asked now, alarmed.
Klaus pursed his lips. They could feel the bond; they knew Elysian was alive, thriving and healthy. But if they focused hard enough, if they tested the softness in Elysian's claim. The way their Omegas now thrummed with a tad more concern—
"Face what you've done," Icarus hissed, spitting his words with venom. He strode up to Klaus, hands reaching for his collar, pulling hard. His fangs showed. "You sick son of a bitch."
Klaus closed his eyes. The exhaustion grew, the tides pulled him under. "It might be the child that saved us all," he said quietly. "Not Quinn."
The room went still.
"What child?" Helios's eyes were wide, voice brittle.
Icarus growled. "Tell them."
Tell them. Tell them. Tell them.
Klaus opened his eyes, weariness clinging to his bones, sorrow building through the tremble in his bones. "I had Elysian artificially inseminated when she died. It was a failsafe, to get him through her death. I told you I'll do anything. I told you—"
The punch caught him across the jaw before he could finish.
He didn't even try to stop Helios from taking another hit.
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