“Nothing bad,” the blond alpha protests. “Just-”
“We’re wasting time,” Thay cuts in. “Discuss it later. Right now we need to help her.”
Yes,my alpha agrees with a roar.Help our mate. Save her. Soothe her. Purr for her.
Everything in me—every alpha instinct, every human instinct, every part of my soul—is roaring the same words…
Go to her.
Go to her.
Go to her.
Piers sidles up next to me. Forsythe casts him a look. “What are you doing?”
Piers doesn’t take his eyes off Florence. “Do what you have to do, but I’m not leaving her in there.” Our Prime’s lips tighten the slightest bit then he nods.
“Isadora and Florence first,” he orders and then we’re moving. I shouldn’t be surprised that Piers, Thayer, and I head for Florence, while Grieves and Forsythe move toward Isadora. But I am, It feels wrong somehow. Like the five of us should be working as a team to rescue our omega.
And right now, my alpha seems to think Ren is ours.
The closer we get to the cages, the more distressed omega I smell. Not just Florence, but Petal and Tristan, on either side of her. Like Ren’s fear is rubbing off on them too.
There’s a combination lock on the door, and I have no fucking clue what the hell the code would be, but the answer can’t be far.
“Please,” Ren whispers, voice barely there. “Please. Please. Please.”
“It's okay, pixie. We’re coming,” I croon to her and try to send out soothing alpharamones through the suppressants I’m on. It doesn’t work.
She jerks at the sound of my voice. “Court?”
“Yeah, baby, it's me. It's us. We’re here.”
“Deep breaths, killer.”
“Thayer?” She pulls at her bonds again, making the ropes cut into her skin. “Please. Let me out. I can’t- I want out. Let me out.” Her omega whine is enough to set my alpha off. Fuck. This was a bad fucking idea.
I’m going to kill someone today.
“Do you know what we’re supposed to do here, little bird? To get you out.”
Ren’s chest gives a jerk, the chair under her is squeaking across the cement floor with the force of her trembling. “They told me a math problem… I’m supposed to… I was supposed to…”
“Solve it?” Thayer guesses.
A jerky nod. “But I don’t even- I can’t…”
“That’s okay, Pixie. Don’t worry about it. We’ll still get you sorted.” Gritting my teeth, I spin on my heel and march away, right to the fucking producer standing by with a tablet, aware of the camera following each step. “What’s the code to Florence’s lock?”
He pales at the growl in my voice, but he shakes his head. “I-I can’t tell you that. It's part of the game.”
Good on production for not equipping us with weapons, because I’m pretty sure if I had a gun in my holster, I would pull it on him right now. Instead I settle for slamming a hand into his chest and driving him back into the wall. Hard. “That omega is in distress, not fake but real fucking distress. She is having a panic attack and all of you have fucking ignored it.” I press harder asI lean into him. “Myfucking omega.” He pales further at the implications. “Give me the fucking code.”
There’s a loud crash, and I glance over my shoulder to see, Thayer and Piers have apparently lost patience and are tearing at the bars around Florence with their hands. One of the other crew members makes a noise and steps forward like they might intervene, but then they must think better of it. Good man. All of our alphas are very close to snapping and there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t bear the brunt of our rage.
The man who’s neck my hand is wrapped around shoves his tablet at me. I take it with my free hand and then scan my eyes down it. Taking in the list of combinations. “There now,” I say as I find Pixie’s. “That wasn't so hard was it?”
I release him and turn in the same moment, running down the line of cages and all but shoving Piers away from the door. The bitter scent of frightened omega sinks into my head, making my vision go spotty and red. My hands shake, making it difficult to do the fiddly work of turning the numbers.
