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“Be good,” he barks, his dominance smashing my resistance.
But it’s the wrong fucking command.
I can’t be good unless I’m far, far away from this pack.
I widen my eyes, faking docile, and he relaxes his grip with a sickening chuckle. “You smell like sugar, Darling. Me and my boys are gonna take a lick.”
Nope.
No.
Never gonna happen.
I drop to the floor.
The unexpected move gives me the second I need to bulldoze through their calves.
I bear-crawl under the closest table, pushing through legs, ignoring the screeches of riled omegas. When I finally pop out, three tables separate me from the Brauns.
Frantic, I look for security, then dash for the closest guy in uniform.
The middle-aged beta reaches for me like he’s going to help. Then his gaze slips past my shoulder. “Mister Braun…”
“Stop her!” Artur barks.
“You’d better cooperate.” He grabs for me again, only this time, it’s to help the gangster. “It’ll be easier on you.”
Some fucking security.
I slash him.
The beta howls, too busy trying to keep what’s left of his thumb to stop me from running.
Everyone watches.
No one helps.
When I hit the exit, Alice waves me past, holding her phone. “I’m calling for backup. Go!”
How nice.
One pure soul left on campus.
But even if help is on the way, they won’t get here in time. Artur will drag me into a dark corner, and—
I run.
All I wanted was a lava cake.
All I want is to be left alone.
EIGHT
JETT
I’m not sure how much time has passed since we left Lilah. Hours? Days?
Reality is hazy thanks to bourbon and my falling barricades.
