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Beige and skeezy he may be, but Craig is a threat.
I don’t ignore my instincts.
They’ve been honed from years of shady beta trainers.
Trainer Brock and his foot fetish. Trainer Ethan with his not-so-casual touches. Trainer Isaiah, who everyone thought was an angel, but was actually a mole who infiltrated the OCC to groom baby omegas for sex trafficking.
I knew they were crooked.
Not that anyone listens.
Craig gives me the heebiest of jeebies, and I never want to be alone with him. In this room, I may as well be, because there’s not one person who’ll step in to stop him from touching me again.
Like always, I protect myself.
Craig advances, his thin upper lip drawn back in a snarl. “You’d better respect me if you want to come into my pack.”
“I don’t want to.” Were we not just at the same meeting where I was blackmailed? I glance over my shoulder, trying to find a clear path to the doors, but the floor’s choked with big alphas and bitter omegas who want my scalp.
“Wyvern House appointed me the guys’ beta. Orion couldn’t even function without me. So don’t get any fucking ideas about stealing the pack. I’ll be bitten in long before you are and you’d better believe I’m going to warn them what a nasty, disobedient girl you are.”
He creeps closer, and I can’t.
I can’t deal with this level of batshit.
I take off, dashing between alphas and onlookers, sprinting for the main exit.
My instincts urge me to my nest. I want to curl up in my little dorm room, bolt myself in, and hide under every blanket. But that’s the first place the trainers will look for me.
So instead, I head to my real home—the sports complex.
It’s a ghost town with the showcase afterparty still hopping. I slip past the token security guard, and soon I’m diving into the water, down, down, down, until I can hug my knees to my chest, sitting like a statue at the bottom of the pool.
There’s too much to process.
I can’t even think it through until I’m underwater, not sucking in a new flavor of pheromone with every breath.
I have a pack.
A temporary pack, but I haven’t met them and they’re already everything I feared.
Bought me like a heifer? Check.
Belong to a scary underworld organization? Check.
Sleazy, egotistical beta on the pack roster? Fucking check.
I hold my breath until my lungs near collapse. When I finally kick to the surface, gasping a desperate lungful of chlorinated air, my head clears.
I’m not giving up.
My dream’s a little cottage in the woods with no one to bother me, desire me, or hate me just for existing. I want to do bookkeeping online and drink hot cocoa in my herb garden. I want to start taking suppressants as soon as I can get a black market prescription and be done with heats and hormones and men forever.
I just want to be left alone.
I want to feel safe for one fucking day of my life.
So I have to keep fighting.
