AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But it’s not me. It can’t be.
I practice on three-hundred-pound alphas with prison tats.
Serafina’s an omega. She should be naturally sensitive to pheromones.
What the hell has she been through to give her carbon fiber nerves and no reaction to my nightmare scent?
When I turn, every agent has their back to the wall, wearing plastic gas masks that don’t shield me from their looks of horror.
Now Serafina owes me even more.
Shit on a broken chip.
My sister’s a freak too.
“Did we secure any other leads?” Commander Fissure asks, happy to go back to the status quo where she ignores me and I try not to get caught staring lasers at her throat.
“This was in the car we found on site.” An agent offers a plastic keycard, and my stomach coils just as tight as the elegant script font spelling out The Barrington Hotel.
I purge all thoughts of Bishop Barrington from my brain before his smirking ghost can spirit me away.
“We’re running out of time. As soon as Nikolaj realizes his daughter is missing he’ll—” Bridget’s brows pinch. She turns to me with a weirdly assessing expression. Like she’s suddenly seeing me as a person. “Twenty-Six?”
Nope. Still a number.
But this is new. She never looks at me by choice—I prefer it that way. “Commander?”
“You bear a remarkable resemblance to this girl.”
No shit. “We’re related.”
“If you posed as—”
“NO,” I cut her off way too loudly. Her lips do that thinning, you’re-a-disgrace thing, but this is not the time to back down. “I mean, respectfully, I’m not fit for the assignment.”
Can’t think of a worse idea.
“True.” Commander Fissure nods. “Your control isn’t up to mission standard. It was a mistake to bring you off base.”
What? No! “My control is perfect.”
“Then what’s the problem? We have an urgent mission need that you can easily fulfill.” Commander Fissure folds her arms. Her mates echo the motion—Silas on the left, Holder on the right, each big enough to bench a tank. When they flex, my shoulders throb in phantom remembrance.
They’re waiting for another chance to rag doll me, and that’s not the only problem keeping me from volunteering.
Problems two and three are my chewed-up ankles, followed by problem number four, which is fuck you, not happening.
“It’s just that I’m never going to be an official field agent. Someone about to be discharged shouldn’t take point on such an important job.”
Right?
That sounds more reasonable than hellllll no, I’m not sticking my neck out for your bullshit.
“There would be incentives.”
After a hanging pause, my mouth can't help opening. “What kind of incentives?”
“If you have the skill to infiltrate the Redfangs and help us apprehend Nikolaj, it would remove the doubts regarding your readiness to return to society.”
