What is wrong with me?
“These bruises are concerning.” The doctor’s hands skim across my hip and down one thigh. “We aren’t showing her today. Correct?”
“That’s right.” Angelica lets out a heavy sigh as she looks down at me. For some reason, I feel pathetic under her harsh stare. “We can’t show her in this state.” She pulls her gaze off of my naked body, finally looking at the doctor. “We’ll keep her housed until next month.” She leans down again, smiling sweetly at me. “How old are you, sweet girl?”
“Twenty…” I lick my suddenly very dry lips, “five.”
Angelica’s eyes go wide, and the doctor’s head snaps up. “Twenty-five?” he asks as if it’s hard to believe. “Oh, my.” He looks at the she-alpha, fear pouring out of his dark eyes. “We can’t wait too long, ma’am. Not at her age.” He shakes his head as if it’s a shame. “Unmated omegas start to drastically decline after twenty-five, and most don’t live to see thirty. Omega?” He looks down at me, his eyes wide with concern. “Have you had any prolonged heats? Strokes? Seizures? Intense bouts of aggression or depression?”
I open my mouth to ask if this is a joke, but nothing comes out.
“This isn’t good,” Angelica says followed by a pained sigh. “Perhaps I can find a buyer today. I can’t afford to have a perfectly good omega die while waiting for the next auction.”
“Do you want me to have a one-sheet created for her?” the doctor asks.
“Yes,” the she-alpha says family. “But we need to add a warning.”
“A warning?” The doctor’s dark brows pull together.
“Kent says she’s dangerous,” Angelica smirks. “Apparently, she took down an alpha all on her own.” I don’t miss the excited lift in her voice.
The doctor’s black eyes go wide, and he takes a step away from the table. “This tiny thing?” He points at me like I’m a slab of meat.
“Yes. It seems we have a dangerous omega on our hands.” Angelica chuckles. “I’m interested to meet the pack willing to take her on.”
The Morder
Killian
“It sounds busy,”Tristan says as rowdy alphas cheer just on the other side of the treeline. Someone lets out a triumphant roar, followed by a round of lazy clapping. “Maybe the auction isn’t over,” he says, hopefully.
“Wow.” Basil comes to a stop at the edge of a meadow. “This is bigger than I expected.”
The wide cut of land is filled with large tents and roaring bonfires. And it’s packed with at least a hundred alphas, if not more. They laugh and snarl, some chatting with friends while others shoot daggers at everyone else. A stage sits not far from us, but it’s empty, and big overhead lights are off. I can only assume it was used for the auction.
“Come on,” I say, leading my pack into the crowd.
It stinks of sweat and booze. The mashed-up aroma of at least a hundred alphas clings to the inside of my nose. It reminds me of high school…before I dropped out.
“They’re prepping her right now.” A scarred alpha brags loudly to no one in particular. He smooths one hand down the front of his expensive navy suit. “She’s short, blonde, and beautiful,” he yells for everyone to hear.
A nearby alpha snarls, curling his fists tight, and I pick up my pace.
“This way.” I move toward the center of the market, away from a cluttered lot of cars. Most of them are large trucks and SUVs, but a few are expensive, luxury vehicles.
Edging around an enormous velvet tent, we reach the center of the camp. There’s a collection of tables with food and drink. Lots of men feast, talking excitedly about the showroom that just closed. I scan the crowd, realizing there’s not a single omega in sight. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
Basil slows as we pass a roasted pig, but I don’t stop. I know he’s hungry—we didn’t rest once all day. We lost too much time fighting with Bosco’s men. But I refuse to stop and relax until I’ve had a chance to see the omegas.
“What can I get you?” a beta behind a makeshift bar asks. He’s wearing a white shirt and black tie, drying an empty mug with an already damp towel.
“Is the auction over?” I ask, and he frowns, telling me it is.
“Sorry, sir,” he grimaces like he hates being the bearer of bad news. I don’t blame him. I’m sure the staff here get a lot of shit from disappointed alphas.
“What about the gallery?” Basil rests his hand on the bar. “How late does it run?”
Deep worry flashes in the beta’s eyes. Clearly not wanting to answer, he stands a little taller, scanning the crowd. “You’ll want to talk to Angelica.” He points past me.
