His brow furrows, and one corner of his mouth lifts. “Sure hope not. But can we agree not to fight each other? ’Cause that could get real messy.” Al holds his hand out. It’s a move I’ve seen Ri-ckon do with strangers but could be a trick to get me into close range.
I point to my arm in reply and wrinkle my nose.
“Geez, okay.” He rolls his eyes like he can’t decide where to look. “I’m sorry I broke your arm.”
I stiffen. “Sorry?”
His nostrils flare as he sighs. “This is like talking to a fucking kindergartner. Sorry means not doing it again, and also that you regret doing something. Like, feeling sad inside because of your actions.”
Regret; it’s a new word. He feels sad for breaking my arm and won’t do it again? Should I be sorry for the things I’ve done? I tip my head as I study the dangerous alpha. Even if he won’t hurt me, I don’t like him.
I narrow my gaze. “What if I kill you?”
Al straightens, and the alpha aura around him flares in response to my threat. “Not a good idea. I might kill you first, or, if you manage it, you’ll be stuck in here forever. For years.”
A shiver crawls down my spine. I can’t stay here.
“Ri-ckon said no kill.” So did Cal-ee, but I prefer White Mine’s instructions.
The alpha nods and steps closer. “Sounds like Rickon’s a smart man. Getting caught killing is no good.”
Something about Al’s words sits uneasily with me, but I can’t put my finger on it. He extends his hand again. “So, how abouta truce? You don’t kill me, and I don’t kill you, and we try to survive this devil’s playground? ’Cause let me tell you, I’ve got enough enemies in this place.”
I rock forward cautiously and extend my hand, tensed for action if his words and intentions don’t match. Equally as careful, he reaches out and our palms meet. After a quick shake he releases me and steps back. “Good. That’s a promise, which means you don’t change your mind.”
I suck my lip in and chew on it, so many ideas zipping through my mind I can’t keep up. Regret, attacks, loss of my pack, deals. Too many new things to figure out. Most of all, I need to survive.
With a hum, I tell him, “No challenge, no fight.” My fingers drift to my throat where the collar normally sits. My neck feels empty without it. Maybe White Mine knew I wasn’t ready for so many ideas in my head, and the collar kept some of them away.
“You want the top bunk or the bottom?” Al asks, pointing to the beds.
The bottom looks too much like a closed-in cell, so I vault up the few parallel rails to the top. The position’s defensible from below, and the bars rattle when I climb, so he won’t be able to reach me without some noise warning.
“Suits me since my knee isn’t the best,” Al says, grabbing a pillow and sitting on the floor where we can see each other.
One idea keeps circling in my head, and I can’t get rid of it, so I ask, “Same prison here?” I’m sure we traveled for a much longer time when Red broke me out.
Al shakes his head. “No. That was Darinian, and this is Laversham.” He sniffs and scratches his beard. “Bet you’re confused because I’m here. I got transferred because . . .” The alpha glances up at me and chuckles. “Well, guess none of that story would make sense to you. But I bet they were hoping I wouldn’t survive being roommates with a feral alpha.” He shakes his head and mutters quietly, “Let’s hope I can.”
I cross my legs on the bed and look around. The gray blanket is thin and scratchy under my hands, making me miss the plush one from home that smells like my pack. I hadn’t even realized how much of their scent constantly drenched the house until I found myself here without it.
“What do? Go?” I ask, rolling a loose thread between my fingers.
Al points to the door, and then mimes eating from a bowl. “We go out there for meals and yard time, then come back here to sleep. If we survive.” He shrugs. “Boring.”
“How will Cal-ee find me?”
His eyes narrow in on me, dark and intense. “Who’s Callee?”
“Alpha. Decides on prison or not prison.”
“Huh? Like a judge?”
Judge? No, that was the man who sat in the tall box. What other words did people use for Cal-ee in that formal room full of chairs and pictures? “Pros-cute. Decide jail. Says the law.”
Al laughs. “You’ve got puzzles running in your brain at full speed, dontcha, Zack? I’m guessing you’re talking about a lawyer.”
I brighten. That sounds familiar. “Law-yeah.”
