“What... is happening to them?” I ask.
“We’re trying to rehabilitate them, the best we can. It’s been a bit tricky, but the program is still new.”
“They’re not... in trouble?”
“No, why would they be? They haven’t done anything wrong, its not like they became feral by choice.”
Madden’s phone buzzes and he glances down at it before his gaze jerks up to meet mine.
“So that beta, Rowan Mercer, is he fully a part of your pack? Like, bonded to the omega?”
“Yes. She bit him.”
He nods slowly, glancing back down at his phone.
“They’re telling me there are two other bites on her. Alpha bond marks. Three in total. Are there more of you?”
“Yes,” I nod.
Madden lets out a harsh breath, scrubbing his hand through his hair.
“Oh wow, okay, this is... wow.” Madden lets out a harsh breath, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “So we took an omega in acute distress from not one, but three feral alphas. Got it. Where were they? When the police came in?”
The way he’s framing those questions is strange. Like he thinks Ash and Griffin are going to break into wherever they have Mirabelle and steal her away.
Actually, if they know where she’s at, they’d probably do that.
“At work,” I grunt.
“Work? They’re... sound of mind enough to work?”
I wonder how crazy the other fighters they must’ve picked up are to ask that.
“They’re less crazy than me,” I say, jerking my thumb up at my head, even though it’s tied to the bars of the gurney I’m in. “They fight.”
“Willingly?”
“Yes. For money. They’re good at it.”
“I can imagine,” Madden mutters before glancing down at his phone. “Do you know how they’ll react when they find out your mate is... missing?”
“Bad,” I grunt with a shrug.
Madden just sighs like he expected my answer.
“Any recommendations you’ve got to make sure they don’t...” He winces, “How do I put this... lose their shit like you did? Maybe if we have you talk to them?”
I narrow my eyes at him, my lip curling back.
“Why should I talk to them... for you?” I huff.
He grimaces, his lip tugging with his own scar.
It makes something twist in my chest. Should I trust him?
“What if I get someone to send me proof that your mate is okay? That we actually have her at the Omega Center?”
“Maybe,” I grunt, pushing myself up on the gurney so I can sit a little straighter. The idea of seeing Mirabelle right now? I’d give anything. I need to see that she’s okay.
