“Please, help,” I finally ask, trying to push the dead alpha off of me, but he’s so damn heavy.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Kent drags Stone’s limp body off of me. The beta looks shocked, his wide eyes flickering between Stone and me.
“Are you going to kill me?” I ask.
The beta jolts, snapping out of whatever trance he’s in. “I’m not a fucking monster,” he barks, before grabbing me by the forearm and pulling me onto my feet. My knees shake, makingit hard to stand. “Goddamnit.” He looks me up and down. “You look awful.”
I don’t look down at myself. I know I’m covered in blood again, but this time, it isn’t mine.
“Let’s go.” Kent bends, draping me over his shoulder. I don’t fight him. I can’t. I’m too numb.
I just killed someone.
Through the Woods
Killian
“We’re not goingto make it on time.” Basil rubs his jaw. A deep bruise has bloomed, standing out against his dark skin. “The auction is at seven.” He glances at his phone before pushing it back into his pocket. “It’s almost six already.” Deep worry pulls at the corners of his green eyes.
“It’ll be okay,” I say, trying to ease my packmate’s concern. “The Morder has more than the auction. They have a showroom and a gallery, too.”
“What’s the difference?” Tristan marches on the other side of me. The blood on the alpha’s shirt has long since dried, and his knuckles are busted up, but he still looks better than me and Basil.
Basil’s shirt was shredded off of him, and his back has two long, ugly gashes. My own shirt is torn along one shoulder, but at least the cut over my left eye has stopped bleeding. I push my long hair out of my face, hoping there’s not too much blood init. I examine the usually dark blond color, pissed to see several thick streaks of red.
This isn’t how we wanted to present ourselves to potential omegas, but I refuse to go home.We’ve waited too long to find an omega.
“I think you get to interact with the omegas in the showroom.” I pull the flier out of my back pocket, unfold it, and hand it to Tristan. “The display room is only for looking.”
The big alpha gives it one quick glance, then pushes it back at me. “I’m not reading all of that,” he grumbles.
I can’t help but smile as I skim it. “It says that you can mingle with the omegas in the showroom, and in some cases even touch them.” I place it back in my pocket.
“That doesn’t sound safe.” Basil frowns. “Alphas aren’t known for being careful with omegas. Especially in large groups.”
“I’m sure the people that run the Morder know what they’re doing,” I say. “We’re going to find our perfect matetoday,” I emphasize the last word, practically growling it.
“What if they’re out of omegas by the time we get there?” Basil asks. His shoulders hang as if already prepared to be disappointed.
I reach over and squeeze the back of his neck, pulling him to me. “I promise,” I drop my voice to a gruff whisper. “We’re getting an omega today.”
The sweet alpha gives me a quick smile, but it’s tight, clearly not believing me. I understand why—Omegas are rare.
It’s damn near impossible to find one that isn’t already enrolled in one of the many academies across the country. They’re stuffy places filled with fresh, young omegas meant for only the super-rich.
Even if Tristan and I didn’t have outstanding warrants in three cities, those schools would never let us past the lobby. We don’t have the bank accounts they’re looking for.
I was starting to think that finding an omega was just a dream, but then I found the flier for the Morder, and now me and my pack will have what we’ve always wanted:A pretty omega to call our own.
“I hate that we’re so late.” Basil gnashes his teeth as he stares into the distance. “We should have left yesterday.”
“Agreed,” Tristan snarls, his meaty fists curling tight. “Fucking Bosco and his garbage pack.” He growls like he wants to rip the fucker’s heart out and eat it for dinner. “I can’t believe they got the jump on us. How the hell does a twenty-five-year-old kid end up as a pack alpha?”
My agitation rises as I replay the whole thing. It was almost as if Bosco’s men were waiting for us. They hid along the ridge next to the river, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. And every single one of those fuckers was soaked in some kind of scent-blocker.
It definitely felt planned.
“Do you think they’re trying to expand their territory?” Basil asks.
