Forties…maybe even fifties.
And I have no idea who he is.
Moving carefully, I shift my weight and slide one leg over the edge of the mattress. The frame dips with my movement, but the alpha doesn’t stir. He simply exhales a ragged breath that makes my skin prickle.
I slip off the bed entirely, feet hitting a soft rug. My knees wobble, but I stay upright, gripping the edge of the mattress until the room stops tilting.
Only then do I realize that I’m not wearing that awful corset anymore. I’m in an oversized T-shirt. It’s thin and worn, the hem brushing mid-thigh, and the collar loose against my collarbone.
I lift the fabric to my nose, sniffing before I even think about it.
Smoked amber.
Leather.
Warm and dark and undeniably alpha.
But it’s not Warren or Gray.
Did they already get rid of me? Did they give me to another pack as some kind of form of payment, or was I snatched again?
Fear buzzes under my ribs, sharp and electric as I lift the hem of the shirt. Relief hits me just as fast as I find the same lacy black panties from the black market still there. I take that as a sign that I wasn't violated, but the relief is thin, since I don't really know for sure.
Still, there's no sense dwelling on what I can't remember.
The room around me is dim, dawn starting to bleed through the edges of the soft yellow curtains. I pad across the floor, every step careful, my bare feet barely whispering against the rug. The door is cracked open, teasing me with the promise of escape.
I hook my fingers around the edge and ease it open a fraction more.
Then I freeze.
Gray is sitting in a kitchen chair in the hallway, angled crookedly against the wall. His head is tipped back, throat exposed, stubble shadowing his jaw. His thick arms are crossed over his chest. Long legs stretched out, one boot kicked off, the other still on.
Dead asleep.
Relief washes over me, followed by swift rage.
It’s clear my omega senses are already kicking in, latching on to the first non-familial alpha I’ve ever been this close to. It’s a pull. A bond forming on instinct alone.
And it fucking horrifies me.
At least I’m not spiraling into my heat. I can only assume they dosed me with something in that tent to keep my body from betraying me outright.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door a bit more, staring intensely at Gray’s face. I’m so close to him, I can see the faint crease between his brows even in sleep and the slow rise and fall of his chest. He’s still wearing the same clotheshe had on at the black market. Forest green shirt and dark gray slacks.
I hesitate, weighing if I can slip past him. While I don’t know where I’m trying to go, I do know I can’t stay in this tiny room. Not with the thick scent of the strange, sick alpha pressing in on me from every angle.
I take half a step forward, just enough for my shoulder to slip through the crack in the door.
The hinge creaks. It’s barely a sound, but Gray stirs.
His head shifts. His jaw tightens. One arm loosens from his chest.
My body jerks back, the movement sharp and panicked, and the door swings shut behind me with a soft click that sounds deafening in my ears.
Fuck!
For one awful moment, I stay frozen, hand clamped over my mouth, lungs burning as I fight the urge to bolt, to sob, to do anything that would give me away. In the hallway, I hear Gray resettle. The chair scrapes softly as he adjusts, breath evening out again.
