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From the moment I saw her dance, a lone omega in a pit of vipers, something twisted tight inside me.
"Look at us," I say, rattling my own chains for emphasis. "How are we supposed to help her now?"
"Think, Finch." There's an edge to Luka’s voice, a suggestion of violence. He's trying to remind me that we have friends and allies here--that Rook is in the building, and maybe others.
We need all the help we can get.
"We're not done yet," he goes on. "Not by a long shot."
The fight drains out of me, leaving a bitter taste. He's right; rage won't get these chains off. And it sure as hell won't get us back to her.
"You don't think Solace'll kill us?" I ask.
"If he wanted us dead, we would be bleeding out in that motel parking and he'd be wining and dining your girl," Luka says. "As it is...nah, I don't think he will. Something's brewing in the city, and we're more valuable to him alive."
"Great. So, genius, how do we get out of this dump first?"
He grins, and it's all predator, all promise. "Just follow my lead and be patient, Finch. Like always."
"Like always," I echo, a smirk cutting through the pain. It's not much of a plan, but then again, when has that ever stopped us?
We're more than the sum of our parts, more than what these chains are trying to hold back.
There's power in the pack; Luka is right.
And if we're going to keep Aisling safe, we'll need every last drop of it.
Chapter twenty-two
Aisling
I'm separated from Gunnar,no allies in sight...and once again, I find myself alone.
I've been trying to leverage my power in an alpha's world for years, but it's never nice to be in this position: in captivity, without a friend. I go willingly with the beta guards, knowing I'm outnumbered and that there's nothing I can do at this point.
They keep the black bag on my head until the natural light vanishes, and when they remove it, I find that I'm in a well-appointed entryway complete with white marble floors, columns, and a spiral staircase. Rather than taking me down it--which I figured they would do if I was a prisoner--they bring me up the stairs.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
The beta guards don't answer.
In fact, they don't say a single damn thing until we've walked down a long hall lined with works of fine art, and they bring me to a bedroom. The door swings open, and I'm shoved into a room that screams luxury louder than any gunshot in the streets. Chandelier, plush carpet, a bed that could fit an army. A silver gown hangs on the wardrobe, sequins catching the light like a thousand tiny stars winking at me.
"Change," one of the guards instructs, his voice void of any warmth. He's just a shadow against the doorframe, silhouetted by the harsh hallway light.
"Fine." My response is ice as I snatch the dress, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me rattled. He leaves without another word, and I'm alone with the gown and my churning thoughts.
I get a quick lay of the land--no windows, and the only door is locked.
There's no getting out now...and I can't leave without Gunnar anyway.
I slip out of my clothes, the fabric of the gown cool against my skin as I pull it over my head. It fits like they knew my measurements, which isn't comforting. It's all part of their game, whatever that is. I'm no queen, more like a pawn shoved onto the board at the last minute, but if they want to dress me up like this, I'll find a way to use it to my advantage.
A knock at the door, and I brace myself. "You decent?" The new voice is less gruff, but I don't trust it any more than the first.
"Come in." My tone is flat, a contrast to the shimmer I wear.
A man opens the door, and I'm shocked to find that this isn't more security...but some kind of butler with grey hair and crow's feet around his blue eyes. He gives me a polite nod.
