Vonn: The Boundarylands Omegaverse: M/F Alpha Omega Romance by Callie Rhodes (13 inch ebook reader .TXT) 📗

of her head to evade the blow as Stacy tensed her calves, tucking down her shoulders and pulling in her belly in a compact crouch.

The private was no student of physics, or he would have known that his momentum closed off all avenues of recovering from his failure to land the blow. He collided with her at full speed, striking her crouched form with his hips, just below his center of gravity. Stacy didn't have to do anything but hold her position as the soldier went flying, his backside landing against the mat with a spine-jarring thwap. His eyes bulged, and he made an unbecoming choking sound as he struggled to pull air into his lungs.

"Well, you were right about one thing," she told him, offered her hand. "That was quick."

Fury blazed in his eyes as the private reached for her wrist, signaling his intention to pull her down with him. Stacy let him, then clamped her hand on his own wrist at the last second. She tucked and dove for the floor, hitting the mat on the far side of him and rolling into a somersault, holding on tightly as she came out of it. From his high-pitched shriek, Stacy didn't have to look down to know that his wrist and arm were now bent in an unnatural position that subdued him completely.

The private slammed his free hand on the mat in surrender. Stacy immediately released him and stood to face the circle of onlookers, seeing a mix of expressions from dismay to wonder among the trainees.

"The field of battle is not a barroom brawl," she told them. "Brute strength and bravado will not get you very far. As you've all just witnessed, misjudging your opponent can easily be used against you. Superior size and strength don't guarantee anything. The reason you are here today is to learn how to face off against a much larger opponent and win."

"No offense, ma'am," one of the soldiers called, "but isn't that why we have guns?"

Laughter moved among the ranks, but that wasn't why Stacy assumed her fiercest gaze as she stared down the soldier. She did so for his sake. Most of these young soldiers were barely out of high school, fresh-faced young men who were someone's son, brother, or friend. She owed it to their loved ones to knock some sense into their heads.

"Over the last two years, we have lost more than three dozen soldiers in the Northwest and Southeast Boundarylands." Her tone made it clear she wasn't playing around. "Most of them were Special Forces. All of them deployed with the most advanced tactical equipment and weaponry available. And yet, none of that gear even slowed down their attackers. In fact, it seems to have only pissed them off."

"Wait," came a hoarse voice from the floor. The private had managed to push himself up to a sitting position and was rubbing at his sore shoulder. "You can't be talking about facing off against alphas."

"I pray that you never have to," Stacy told him, meaning it. She refused to hold his inexperience and swagger against him. "But there may come a time when you are called upon to pursue beta interests in alpha territory, and my job is to make sure that you have a fighting chance to make it out alive."

"But…hand to hand combat with an alpha," a worried-looking private at the front of the ranks said. "That's like stepping into a boxing ring with a grizzly bear."

"No, Private. It would be a hell of a lot worse. Grizzlies only attack for food or in self-defense. Alphas kill for fun."

"A word, Sergeant Clarke."

Stacy turned to find Captain Mortimer waiting to speak to her. She hadn't noticed his presence, having been focused on her task of overseeing the groups of soldiers working with her assistants.

She saluted, giving no hint of surprise that the commanding officer was still in the facility. Though he frequently brought groups to watch her demonstrations, they rarely stayed past the tap-out.

"Another impressive performance, Clarke."

"Thank you, sir." Stacy thought she detected an edge to Mortimer's voice. Behind him stood the suits she'd noticed earlier, their flat expressions failing to disguise intense interest.

Stacy was used to majors, colonels, even the occasional general coming to see her work. None of them made her half as nervous as these men.

Politicians.

Not Stacy's favorite. Whatever they were doing here, whatever their purpose in staying afterward…she doubted it was anything good. But Stacy hadn't become one of only a dozen women to rise to the rank of sergeant without learning to keep all evidence of her thoughts and emotions to herself, so she simply nodded in their direction.

"I'd like you to accompany us to my office," the captain said, already turning toward the exit.

"Yes, sir."

Not another word was spoken as the whole group proceeded to the parking lot, where they climbed into identical unmarked black SUVs. The captain indicated she should follow him into the backseat of one of them, where she was sandwiched between him and a cold-eyed man with a beakish nose and gold-rimmed classes who appeared to have no qualms about openly studying her, frowning as if she was an alien specimen instead of a soldier.

Thankfully it was a short trip to the building where the captain's large office was located. Between the fraught silence and the stranger's scrutiny, an uneasy feeling was taking hold in Stacy's stomach.

The captain led the way to his office. “Clarke, come in, please,” he said, the first time Stacy had ever heard him make a polite request when an order would do. “If the rest of you will wait in the hall, we’ll join you soon.”

The cold-eyed man had already taken one of the two chairs facing Mortimer’s desk. Whoever he was, he was important enough not to wait for an invitation.

Once he closed the door firmly, Mortimer didn’t offer coffee or waste time with pleasantries. "Sergeant Clarke, meet Roger Fulmer. He's come all the way from Washington to speak with