And maybe Al can help me work through this one. “What if ohm-ga’s choice is another alpha?” I ask.
Al doesn’t answer. As I spin around, the horrid scent of fresh blood perfumes the air. My cellmate dangles in an alpha’s grip, face turning blue as a strap in the man’s hands closes around his neck. Another alpha wheezes nearby, blood pouring from his lip.
I leap forward, grabbing the nearest book as I run. I drive the heavy spine into the attacker’s forehead and grab his wrist, snapping it sideways.
Al drops to his knees beside the fallen challenger, gasping for air.
I turn on the second man, brimming with burning rage. His eyes widen and he backs up, but he’s not fast enough to evade my thrust. My hand closes around his neck.
“Back here,” Al rasps out, holding his throat with one hand and pointing into the closed-off corner behind the bookcase.
I drag the flailing alpha backward, almost tripping over his bleeding companion. I kick the first one for good measure, and then draw back my fist. For the first time in weeks, I release my full alpha fury, burying my fists into his body over and over. How dare they attack my deal-alpha?
“Fuck,” Al hisses, crawling over. “Don’t kill him, Zack!”
I snarl at the intrusion, but Al smacks my arm with the choking belt. It stings, but only a little.
“Listen to me, ya rabid dog!”
I pause, pulling my attack at the last moment. All the things I’ve learned about self-defense and getting out of prison slowly soak through my blind rage.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rocking back from the limp body. This alpha’s far too weak compared to the fighters I used to face. “Not dog,” I hiss to remind myself.
Al falls backward, catching himself with one hand on the bookcase, gasping for breath.
“Al okay?” I ask, steadying him.
He nods. “Thanks to your quick reflexes, yes.” He massages his reddened throat.
The first attacker tries to lurch to his feet, gaze locked on the door. I shoot out a hand and grab his ankle, twisting until he falls with a loud thump.
Al kneels on his neck, and the man convulses. “Do I even need to ask if the Tax Collector sent you?” he asks, oozing with a chilling scent.
“You know how it is,” the alpha whines. “I got kids to put through college.”
Al sneers, voice dark with threat. “Oh, I’m sure they’d be so proud of their papa.” My cellmate pulls something out of his waistband, and I recognize the sharpened piece of wood he showed me on my first day in the cell.
“Go stand at the end of the row,” Al hisses at me. “Yell if anyone comes.”
Keeping watch. Protect your cellmate. Bit by bit, Al’s teaching me the rules for prison. Self-defense, yes, but more important, never let anyone who attacks you get away unscathed.
The alpha behind me screams as bone cracks, and the tang of hot blood thickens the air. When Al rises, pieces of the men’s hands lie on the floor in a pool of blood.
“An eye for an eye, as they say,” Al says, grinning as he wipes his hands and the piece of wood on the alpha’s shirt. He picks a book from the shelf and wedges his stick up inside the spine. “They’ll toss all the cells after this, so gotta stash it for now.” He glances around and sighs. “We can’t hide the fact we were here, so let’s go listen to music and pretend we heard nothing. We may end up in solitary, but don’t say anything except you were listening to music. I’ll introduce you to some sounds I bet your pack haven’t shown you.”
We run over to the counter where a black-and-silver box sits against a wall, and Al plugs in two headsets. The music he plays sounds like the old pain that used to throb inside my head, back when I couldn’t understand words or tools. Back when my life had no meaning. I haven’t thought about the old fighting pack in a long time, but they come to mind as I study Al across the table.
He lifts his headset off one ear. “What?”
“You remind me of alpha.”
“Which alpha?”
“The Death Alpha.” I think back, trying to recall what name the kennel betas called him. I wasn’t aware enough back then to know anything but alpha energy. “He killed . . . I don’t know word. Planned, without wasted energy.”
“Ah. We call thatefficientorcalculating.”
“Maybe. But no speak.” I tap my throat. “Injury here. Still, most dangerous fight alpha.” Come to think of it, he must’ve gotten lucky to be hit there without it snapping his neck, although the kennel men used knives and string on the wound after.
