With a stroke down her hip and back up again, the monster explained in a low, soft rumble. "If I ever smell another man's scent saturating you again, I will hunt down the male and rip off his limbs while you watch... then I will fuck you in the pool of his blood."

Her fingers simply clawed where she clung, digging in deep. "When you speak that way, it frightens me."

Strangely, he hushed her as if comforting a child, gathering her tighter in his embrace.

8

He just couldn't believe it. Shaking his head, hurting for her, Corday fought boiling anger. Rumors had spread like wildfire, varying stories of how an enclave of Omegas had been rescued.

That was the term Dome Broadcast used to describe it. Rescued.

And Claire was gone. Deep in his gut, Corday felt responsible—that he should have known the Omega would do what she felt was best—and hated himself for not seeing the signs.

Waking up on that lumpy couch, a crick in his neck from the odd angle, he'd realized at once what she'd done. Leaping to his feet, cursing up a storm, Corday had run out the door.

There had been no need to search, his hours racing through the city wasted. Had he simply turned on his COMscreen, a distorted version of the story—including footage of emaciated women accepting food—would have played on repeat. There had been no shot of Claire, or even Shepherd for that matter. But a short Beta known to be Shepherd's second-in-command was featured, offering blankets to the Omegas and directing Followers to see them to safety.

A lie.

Corday didn't know how Shepherd had found them, but after seeing the flyer and the outrageous bounty, he suspected that one of Claire's friends had betrayed her.

The thought broke his heart.

The Enforcer knew Thólos, understood what she was up against. Innocent Claire was too idealistic, too sweet, and no matter how willful she was, still Omega. She saw the world through the eyes of a caretaker, a nurturer—not a warrior.

From the look of the icy grounds surrounding the capture, from the steam of starving women's exhaled breath, it was the freezing Lower Reaches that had sheltered Claire's group—a dangerous place where more than just the subzero weather could kill you.

Corday had made his way into the mist to see for himself, disguised as a looter to pick through the warren, blending in with the rest of the vultures already poaching the meager goods left behind.