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I knew he couldn’t be trusted. I told him that. I knew it.
“I hate you,” I said. This had everything to do with him.
Taylor jumped off the crates and came at me, and I lunged for him, only to have someone from behind grab my wrist.
I whipped around, swiping the blade, and Micah stumbled backward, hissing.
Blood dripped from his arm, and I backed away, holding the knife and keeping them in front of me.
“Fuck,” Micah cursed.
“I told you to let her die out there,” Rory bit out, taking Micah’s arm and elevating it as it bled.
“Let me out of here!” I screamed again.
But then all of them looked up, staring behind me as they stopped in their tracks.
I straightened my spine. What?
But I didn’t have time to wonder. Someone grabbed my hand with the knife, squeezing it as he fisted my throat with his other hand.
I gasped, crying out as I dropped the knife to the floor.
He turned me around, still clutching my neck, and I tipped my head back, looking up and seeing golden brown hair, slicked back, and high cheekbones framing amber eyes.
Young but older than the rest of them. Maybe Will’s age.
His lips curled at the corner, and my heart pounded so hard it hurt as I took in the broad shoulders, the five o’clock shadow, and the vein bulging in his neck.
“I would think they’d have a separate facility for the young women,” he joked, letting his eyes fall down my body. “Are they trying to make sure we keep misbehaving?”
Snorts went off behind me, and I planted my hands on his chest, trying to push him away as I heard a scrape on the ground, probably someone picking up my knife.
My hair hung in my face, over my glasses, and I was so thirsty.
He released me and I darted backward, putting distance between me and every one of them.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Just a joke.”
He walked around me, stopping at Micah Moreau and lifting the guy’s arm, inspecting it.
I flashed my gaze to Will, but he just stared down, absently scraping the blood out from under his nails with my knife as if I weren’t here.
“It’ll be okay.” I looked back at the guy talking to Micah, seeing him raise his arm back up to stop the flow of blood. “Just keep it clean.”
Who was this guy? Was he…?
Was he the one ‘in charge’?
I scanned his clothes, seeing a smooth-looking white Oxford, perfectly pressed and tucked into some black dress slacks with a shiny leather belt. He wore black leather shoes, and everything fit him perfectly, as if it were tailored especially for him.
A little better dressed than the other guys, but he did say ‘we’. Are they trying to make sure we keep misbehaving, he’d said.
He was a prisoner, too. He was the alpha Will spoke of.
Micah nodded at him before tossing me a scowl, and the alpha came back, regarding me.
“My apologies for them.” He pressed a hand to his chest, coming in. “Sincerely.”
