Then a second.
Then ten more.
A low growl rolls through the crowd. It starts from the men closest to us and spreads outward like a ripple in water, heads turning, nostrils flaring, bodies going rigid. I watch the recognition hit them one by one. Confusion first. Then hunger.
"Move!" I snarl at Perrin. “Don't stop!”
I shoulder past a cluster of alphas near the bonfire. One of them reaches out, his hand grabbing at the air inches from her leg, and I pivot and drive my elbow into his face without breaking stride. He drops. But the alpha next to him lunges, and I kick him in the chest, sending him backward into a folding chair that collapses under him.
We manage to make it past the bar.
Bottles rattle as someone slams into it behind us, the crowd surging, alphas tripping over each other trying to follow. The trail of pheromones the omega is leaving is pulling them like a leash. I hear it building behind us. The collective growl deepens into something that sounds less like men and more like a pack of animals waking up.
The stage appears on my right. Bright lights. A platform built from shipping pallets. And up there, under the glare, a drugged omega stands swaying in a tiny white dress, her eyes vacant and a handler gripping her arm. The announcer has stopped talking. He's staring at the chaos unfolding in his audience, microphone hanging limp in his hand.
I keep my eyes forward, racing toward the mass of parked cars on the other side.
Rows of vehicles packed onto a dirt clearing carved out of the trees. Trucks, SUVs, sedans, all crammed together at angles with barely enough room to walk between them.
Adam is ahead of me. I don't know when he passed me,but he's there, shirtless and sprinting, weaving between vehicles, pulling door handles as he goes.
Locked. Locked. Locked.
"Come on, come on, come on," Adam mutters, yanking another handle.
Locked.
Behind us, the sound of running footsteps. A lot of them.Close.
Adam grabs the handle of a silver minivan and it opens.
"Here!" He rips the sliding rear door open, and I throw myself inside, twisting so I land on the long bench seat on my back with the omega on top of me.
The van rocks from the impact, and Adam slams the door shut behind me. My head cracks against the opposite door and stars burst across my vision. The poor girl is shaking violently against my chest, her face pressed into my neck, her body radiating heat.
Adam is already in the front seat, his hands under the steering column, yanking at wires. The van is old. Ten years at least. Cloth seats, fast-food wrappers on the floor, a pine tree air freshener swinging from the mirror.
"Please." Adam's fingers work fast, twisting, stripping. "Work, you piece of shit."
Perrin appears out of nowhere, wrenching the passenger door open and throwing himself inside. He's drenched in sweat, his face white, his chest heaving so hard I can hear every breath.
Perrin’s hand finds the lock button on his door and he presses it hard. Then again. And again. The mechanical thunk-thunk-thunk of the lock engaging and re-engaging, over and over, like a nervous tic he can't stop. His eyes are fixed on the windshield, watching the figures moving betweenthe vehicles.
“Fuck!” Perrin yells as a body slams into the driver's side of the van. The whole vehicle lurches sideways and the omega screams against my throat.
I glance through the window and see an alpha, eyes black, mouth open, palms flat on the glass, his face inches from mine. He's snarling, spit hitting the window.
Another one hits the rear. The van rocks forward.
"Adam!" I roar.
The engine turns over. Coughs. Dies.
"Fuck!" Adam strips another wire and touches them together.
The driver's side mirror explodes. An alpha has ripped it clean off the door, the plastic housing shattering against the ground. His hand reaches through the gap where the mirror was, clawing at the window frame.
The engine catches.
