Jett rolls his eyes before turning the music down. Of course the motherfucker doesn’t turn it off, but hey, it’s not new news that being an asshole is built into the fiber of his being.
“What the hell do you want now, Shitstain?” He grumbles, as if I’ve made it a habit of asking him for a lot.
“We should park around the back. With the transport trucks. Dad insists on always doing that, why change?—“
“You really are a fucking smartass,” he mutters under his breath. “Why’d you have to turn into a goody two-shoes now? You’re a fucking ass kisser, you know that?”
For all his insults, he starts driving the truck to the back.
“Thanks,” I mumble quietly, my eyes glued to the outside of the window.
Jett finds our transport truck and pulls up in front of it.
“There, you happy now?” He rolls his eyes, putting the truck in park.
“Yeah, thank you,” I say, throwing open my door and extending my hand to Mirabelle.
The less time we have to spend around my brother, the better.
She takes my hand in hers, squeezing it as I help steady her against the uneven concrete. It takes all the willpower I have to drop my hold on her. Bile fills my throat as I pick up the end of the leash hanging between her breasts.
In the tiny moment of quiet we have together, her lips quirk up in a reassuring smile.
Fucking hell. She’s too good for this world.
It’s hard not to get upset at the injustice of this whole fucking situation. And it grates on me she so willingly accepts her place in this situation. Sure, she’s playing a part. But I still fucking hate that she has to.
“We’re going to go check on the alphas before the match. You gonna go up and talk to Dad’s business contacts?”
The threat of Jett’s job tonight doesn’t go unnoticed. Dad actually gave him work to do tonight, probably with the hopes that he’d leave me alone to get my job done.
I’m not one to complain about that kinda shit. I’m never going to get what kid-me wanted from my dad, but I sure as hell am going to accept his help if it keeps Jett away from Mirabelle.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” His jaw ticks as he rolls his eyes. “They better fuckin’ win tonight, got that? I’m betting on them.”
“I’ll do my best,” I shrug.
Jett makes his way up the ramp and to the back door of the building, nodding to one of the guards stationed there. He gestures down the hallway to our right.
“You’ll find the holding rooms that way,” he says. His eyes linger on Mirabelle. “Sure you need her with you? I’ll take great care of her upstairs. She sure got people talking when we brought her last time. Apparently, there was buzz for weeks about people wanting little omega pets of their own.”
Mirabelle is frozen in place, her hands by her sides and her head down. The perfect picture of submission.
But her sour scent shows just how terrified she is.
I wish my presence were enough to keep her from reacting like that. If any of her alphas were here, would she still react like that? Would Jett even ask that fucking question?
Stop it. Now’s not the time to confront my insecurities.
“You can fuck right off,” I say. My voice is clear. Unwavering. “You want us to win tonight, right? Then she comes with me.”
Jett’s jaw works as he narrows his eyes on me. I see his hands clench into fists by his sides.
Let him hit me. I don’t give a shit. It’s not like he hasn’t done that to me a million times before.
Except this time, if he does, then our dad will beat the shit out of him in return.
“Fine,” Jett growls, spinning on his heel and practically stomping his way down the hall towards the stairs.
