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It’s the last thing he says before he leaves me behind.
Package delivered.
Payment made.
“Good night, sis,” Ephraim sneers. “Sleep tight.”
And then he closes the door, leaving me with only a sliver of moonlight to keep me company.
CHAPTER THREE
?
JAVI
I’ve never considered myself a sentimental man.
I was born on the coast, and those of us from around here live and die by the law of the sea. I’ve lived in coastal cities, on islands, on ships, boats, and barges of all shapes and sizes. The Rig is no different from those places—harsh and unforgiving for the weak among us. I’ve always been strong, so it never mattered.
But I’ve never had to capture this particular kind of fugitive.
A girl.
Anomega.
Omegas are supposed to be weak, docile, and well-behaved. When they aren’t, they don’t make it long in our world. That’s just the way things have been ever since the Convergence. And as far as I can tell, Esther Vinton—or Peaches, if that’s really her name—is exactly as an omega should be.
Submissive. Docile. Manners like a lamb.
So why was she on the run?
Andwhy is she being treated like a criminal?
The whole situation doesn’t sit right with me as I leave the building they call the citadel, my hands in my pockets. I feel itchy—like my skin is crawling. The wolfsbane must be wearing off as the full moon comes out, making me want to touch something soft and pretty. My wolf has half a mind to run back up those stairs and have my way with the princess in her tower, but I know I’d be in deep shit with Boyd and all these angry southerners if I so much as stepped foot back in that place.
I have to leave her behind.
Best to put her out of my mind.
The alphas of the Rig are more than accommodating after our delivery, and I find Boyd drinking sailor’s swill down in the mess with a bunch of the locals. Beta females roam around the room in various states of undress, one female bouncing on some alpha’s cock in the corner. Even with the wolfsbane lingering in my system, my body reminds me how close we still are to the full moon, my rut barely suppressed.
“Mr. Ortega!” Boyd calls from the bar, waving me over. His face is flushed with booze, a grin cracking his features. “Come and join me for a round on these fine gentlemen.”
I don’t think these ‘gentlemen’ seem fine at all. I glower at them as I walk over, my shoulders squared. Even around all these alphas, I’m bigger than most of them—and I like it that way, knowing I could take each and every one of these fuckers out in a bareknuckle brawl.
I stay standing at the bar, not bothering to say hello to the men with Boyd. One of them is Abel—the asshole who tried taking the prisoner off my hands before the contract was complete.
“Our new friends were just telling me how grateful they are to us for bringing their sweet princess home,” Boyd says. “Isn’t that right, Abel?”
Abel eyes me. “Next round’s on me if you want it.”
I look at the bartender—a skittish beta. “I’ll take water,” I mutter, and slide some old paper money across the bar.
Abel sneers, but doesn’t say anything about my refusal of his generosity.
“I’ll see ya around, Boyd,” Abel says. “Make sure to let me know before you two take off.”
“Seems like a storm’s rolling in, so it might be a couple days,” Boyd says. “Thanks, pal.”
