Frack.
I need to leave. I need to get out. I need—
"Thought I smelled somethin' tasty."
Frack, no,no.
"Hands where I can see 'em, sweetness." The drawl is familiar. It's the older Beta from before, and this is his truck.
I hold my hands up and turn.
He's a short, squat Beta with a balding head of salt and pepper hair. Several of his teeth are missing, and his skin has become wrinkled and weathered from years spent working in the sun. Yet, his eyes are bright and calculating.
He's smarter than he looks.
"I've got money," I offer. I don’t, but I need to stall until I can come up with a plan. "I’ll give you everything I have if you let me leave."
He smirks, and there’s a flash of silver in his hand. He has a knife.
I always struggled during close-combat weapons training sessions. Right now I wish I’d asked Viper for more sparring sessions.
"And why would I do that?" he grins, and points his knife at me. "I know what ya are. You think I can’t smell ya ‘cause I’m Beta?”
"No, you've made a mistake." I shake my head, and my palms begin to sweat.
"Ain't no mistake." He reaches forward, wrapping his rough, callused hand around my forearm, and rips me out of the car.
"Let go," I cry, as he tugs me roughly against his body. I kick out, desperate to hit any part of him I can reach.
He doesn't flinch. Instead, with a sudden burst of aggression, he slams me against the side of the truck, the cold, unyielding metal causes sharp pain to flare in my back. His forearm presses against my throat, cutting off my air supply.
"You ain't gettin' away," he growls, bringing the tip of his blade to the top of my shirt, the one Knox thoughtfully sewed from his own clothes. “I’m gonna call the Alphas and sell ya for a pretty price.”
Barely an hour on my own and I’m already held hostage.
Why did I leave them?
Why did I think I could do this?
I'm stupid.
Useless.
Broken.
The knife cuts through the fabric of my shirt like butter. The cool metal nicks my skin with a biting sting, and the material falls away, exposing bra-covered breasts to the cool night air.
"Stop! Please, stop," I beg, struggling against him, trying to push him off.
"Ya got a mighty fine set of tits," he rasps, and his hot breath is on my neck.
My stomach heaves, and I slam my fist against his chest, but it doesn't faze him.
"This is what ya made for, ain’t it, lil’ Omega?" he coos, the sneer of satisfaction on his face growing the more I struggle. "This is what those Alphas in The Capital will bend over backwards to claim."
He grabs a fistful of my hair, jerking my head back. He licks a strip up my neck, and I gag.
"So tasty," he growls, and his hands move down, grasping at my breasts.
