He holds my gaze for a moment, and I growl, hands clenching in readiness. But the familiar-looking alpha drops his gaze and spins away, and the threat fades like it never existed. I trail after Al, settling down to a faint rumble.
Movement in the kitchen distracts me. “Alphas cook?” I muse.
“Yes. Anyone can learn to cook.” Al chuckles and turns down a hallway I’ve never been to before. “And it creates cheap labor for Alpha Lodgings. The prison, I mean.”
I nod, tumbling thethoughtover. White Mine cooks, but he’s different. He’s magical. I’ve never considered making food for myself, but if the alphas here do, maybe I could learn. I did learn how to pourcerealinto my bowl.
Al pushes through a doorway into a room that smells a bit like Cal-ee. Wooden shelves line the walls, filled with books and glossy picture pages, like the ones Ri-ckon and Red like to look at. I shuffle through a pile, but most of them are full of pictures of wheeled vehicles and triangle canvas sheets spread under trees. Then, on one side, I spy what I want.
“Ohm-ga!” I cry, holding Red’s picture up. I rumble as I notice the alpha next to her, the one she acts with but doesn’t like. I don’t like him either. “Acting,” I mutter darkly, running my finger along the page to draw a line between them.
Al wanders over. “Oh, yeah, she’s some hot new actress.”
I smile as I trace her flattened cheeks. “Mine.”
Al laughs. “Now I know you’re making shit up. Just give me a minute here.”
His tone irritates me, and I snarl at his back. “Red, Mine.”
He snorts. “Your omega would cry if she heard you claiming some other woman. Now be quiet and let me concentrate here.” The bald alpha goes back to sorting through books on the shelves.
My stomach pinches, squiggling with hunger. I tuck the pages under my arm and head back out through the door. Let Al flip through paper on his own; I’m starving.
The hallway branches, and I come to a halt as I find myself in an unfamiliar place. I’m certain we didn’t come this way. My senses prickle as a collection of scents gathers in a cloud, growing stronger every moment. I spin and find my exit blocked by over five alphas.
“So, someone finally let the dog out,” one man crows, tapping a bulky fist to his open palm. “You got lucky being thrown into solitary for three days, but now your luck’s run out.”
They all step forward, and I hiss, swinging side to side to get a lay of the narrow space. The alphas march toward me, auras rising with challenge.
The blond one laughs. “Little advice for you, Jones. Just lie down and take a beating, and you might survive this, bitch.”
I squeeze my hands into fists and lift them in front of me. Around us, the air thickens with alpha scent. This is definitely a challenge. I drop the picture pages of Red on the floor and bounce on my toes, growling in answer. One alpha or more than five, I’ll accept any challenge.
And they come in a rush of alpha domination.
Over the charging pack’s shoulder, I spy the newcomer in the white shirt. He hangs back, but his mouth turns up in a smile full of death.
Chapter eighteen
Zack
The blond alpha lashes out with his fist. I slide away, pivot, and release a big kick to his stomach. He drops with a scream. I’d laugh if I had time, but more fists fly out like points on a hairbrush, all reaching for me.
I block, punch, and kick, backing up to keep them from fully surrounding me.
A skinny alpha dives for my knees, but I catch him in the face with a heavy hand. Blood sprays across my fingers. A dizzying soup of scents lashes at me, alpha hostility mixed with sweat and blood. Not much different from the ring, only quieter. These men don’t scream and howl, and no audience cheers for our win.
My muscles heat as I move, aches growing from the attacks landing on my hardened body. I grunt as a punch strikes near my ribs, sparking a new rush of pain.
The blond rises, snarling, and launches in, fists raised. I duck and spin, catching him around the throat. He gurgles as I lock in my hold. A little twist and he’ll stop moving altogether.
Don’t kill anyone.
Fuck. How do I stop them if I can’t kill anyone? Worse, my deal with Cal-ee said to not even attack, so if I fight now, will he stop helping me? I roar at the ceiling, voicing my frustration.
A punch lands square on my jaw, sending white spots fluttering through my vision. I drop the alpha and stagger back, reeling from the dilemma more than the punch. The alpha follows his attack with a combo, which I barely fend off. Not that I can’t, but I don’t know how without releasing the instinct to stop their breathing.
If I kill, I might not see Mine and White Mine again. A strangled whine slips through my lips.
