Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 104: Terrorist attack

Chapter 104: Terrorist attack

With Roman’s help, I manage to get Thorne into another bath. His body is burning, muscles tensing at every slight touch, a sure sign they’ve given him some sort of rut-inducing drug. My stomach churns at the thought, but I know how to fix this. Thank Luna, my mother’s teachings on herbs have always been invaluable, and right now, I need them more than ever.

"Drink this, love," I murmur softly, coaxing him to swallow the bitter mixture. He barely resists, his feverish state leaving him pliant, his eyes glazed over but trusting. I dry his damp hair with a towel, trying to soothe him. "See? You’re not dirty anymore," I whisper, more to comfort myself than him. His low murmur of agreement is enough to make me breathe just a little easier.

I guide him to the bed, my fingers trembling as I bandage his injured leg and arm. Every wince, every unconscious twitch of pain breaks my heart a little more. How could they do this to him? My Thorne, my strong, stubborn, fierce alpha reduced to this state. Eventually, sleep claims him, and I watch, unable to tear my eyes away from the way he grips my hand in his sleep. His breathing evens out, and in that moment, despite the rage boiling within me, he looks almost peaceful. Almost.

Twenty minutes pass before I gently untangle my hand from his grasp, careful not to wake him. I press a soft kiss to his forehead and quietly exit the room, closing the door behind me. Thorne will be out for a while, the potion ensuring he gets the rest he desperately needs. But I? I can’t afford to rest.

I change into warmer clothes and make my way to his office, the storm brewing inside me threatening to spill over. "Roman," I call out as soon as I step inside, my voice steady, but the simmering anger beneath the surface undeniable.

In minutes, Roman appears, the other sentinels close behind him. They can sense the shift in the air, the tension, the unspoken threat. All of them kneel before me without hesitation.

"It was a good day. A great day, even," I start, my tone deceptively calm as I pace around the room, my fingers trailing over the edges of Thorne’s desk. "Leona," I say, stopping directly in front of her. "Tell me what happened. Why is my husband in this state?"

Her report is detailed, precise—just as I expected. My network of spies and informants is thorough, and Leona doesn’t fail me.

"So..." I pause, my voice lowering dangerously as I process her words. "My husband was drugged and locked in a room with two omegas in heat?" The words taste like ash on my tongue, and the fury bubbling beneath my skin threatens to boil over.

"Very well," I finally say, straightening up. "Since Thorne is out of commission for now... follow me."

Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel, heading toward the greenhouse with every sentinel trailing behind me. They can feel the storm rising in me, the chaos barely restrained.

I’m not just furious.

I’m absolutely batshit crazy.

**

The air is thick with tension as we load the last of the barrels onto the inconspicuous carriage, each of us moving with silent precision. No one dares to break the stillness, not even to breathe too loudly, because Noelle watches over us like a hawk. His cold gaze lingers, and I can feel the weight of it as if he’s burning his will into our very bones. There’s a shared understanding amongst us: This is exactly why he’s the Crimson General’s husband. No one else could pull this off—no one else would even try.

Victor, that idiot, is the only one dumb enough to challenge him. He strides over, puffing his chest out like he’s got something useful to say, as if his voice matters right now.

"Consort, listen," Victor starts, his tone far too casual for the situation. "This isn’t the smartest thing. I understand you’re angry—"

Noelle’s eyes narrow, cutting through Victor’s words before he can finish. His voice is low, dangerous. "Move."

Victor, oblivious to the undercurrent of danger, glances around for support. "Roman, tell him!" He looks at me, pleading.

I can’t meet his eyes. I won’t. I look away, feigning ignorance because I don’t want any part of this. None of us do. It’s suicide to get between Noelle and whatever he’s planning right now. Even Raul, the hulking giant of a man, is keeping his distance.

Victor doesn’t get the hint. "This is dan—"

"If you don’t move this second," Noelle interrupts, his voice dripping with ice, "when Thorne wakes up, I’ll inform him that you touched me."

Victor blinks, confused. "What?"

"Inappropriately." Noelle’s tone is flat, but the threat is clear, and every man within earshot winces.

Oh hell no. I can hear Raul shuffle back a few steps, distancing himself from this disaster. No one’s stupid enough to stand against Noelle now, especially with that kind of threat hanging over us. Finally, Victor steps down, his face pale as he slinks away.

Adorned in black, we make our move. The carriage wheels creak as we roll toward the palace, the darkness of the night cloaking our movements. My heart pounds in my chest, but it’s not fear—it’s exhilaration. This is insane, sure. But it’s also a kind of thrill I never expected. We’re launching an assault on the palace. We’re about to make history.

In perfect sync, we split up to carry out Noelle’s orders. Raul, the muscle of the group, slams into the palace gates with a force that echoes through the grounds. The gates buckle under his strength, and alarms ring out in the night, throwing the palace into chaos. It’s the distraction we need.

Every man knows his place. Our team moves like shadows, slipping in with the barrels of oil, positioning them in strategic points throughout the palace. Flames burst to life in all directions, licking at the grand architecture, and soon the entire palace is engulfed in confusion. The fire is bad enough, but we’ve also laced the oil with hallucinogenic herbs—thank Noelle for that stroke of genius. Soon, guards and servants alike are stumbling through the halls, dazed and disoriented.

Leona’s subordinate leads us through the chaos like it’s a dance we’ve practiced a hundred times. Noelle, Doris, Leona, and I stick together, sneaking past the chaos unnoticed. I almost laugh at how easy it is. The royal guard is distracted, overwhelmed, and it’s only a matter of time before the fires spread uncontrollably.

As we move deeper into the palace, the scent of smoke and burning wood fills my lungs. My pulse races with each step, the excitement building inside me. I never thought I’d be part of something like this. Never in a million years did I think I’d have the chance to attack the royal palace itself.

We find the royal chambers at last, and Noelle motions for us to wait while I take the lead. Disabling the guards is easier than I expected, almost disappointingly so. Noelle had ordered no killing, and it’s harder than I’d like, but we manage to knock them out with minimal resistance. Felix’s smoke bombs—an improved formula, courtesy of his studies with Noelle—work like magic, sending the guards collapsing to the floor within seconds.

I kick one of the guards to make sure he’s out cold, maybe a little harder than necessary. Leona shoots me a look, and I just shrug. We step over their unconscious bodies and into the king’s grand chamber.

There, sprawled out in an absurdly luxurious bed, is the king himself. I waste no time. I kick him—not gently—just to be sure he’s unconscious. He doesn’t stir.

Leona arches an eyebrow at me. I smirk and mouth, What? She rolls her eyes, but there’s a glimmer of amusement there. I grab the king’s limp body and sling him over my back. The adrenaline surges through me, and I can’t help the giddy grin that spreads across my face. This is unreal. I just kidnapped the king. The highest authority in the kingdom is slumped over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and I’m about to walk him out of his own palace.

This ranks right up there with watching Thorne singlehandedly annihilate an entire army of enemies.

The king moans weakly, his body heavy and useless, and I adjust my grip as we make our way out.