I prepared for a vicious slap, but it never landed. I opened my eyes to see his wrist caught by the woman’s hand before she pushed him away, like swatting a fly.
“She’s my omega,” Ashford stammered, and I watched as he retreated, stepping back. “You have no right to interfere with her,” he continued.
“You are going to leave and have your father call me to arrange a mutually beneficial agreement to clear your debt and insult,” she told him, ignoring his protests, his claim on me.
Ashford’s face flashed through so many emotions: anger, fear, relief, his eyebrows knitting together in a deep frown before he nodded.
“I can get you the money,” he insisted again and reached out to grab me, but the woman reached out and gripped my shoulder, pushing me back a step behind her.
“The girl stays with me,” she told him.
I turned to her then, as shocked as Ashford.
“She’s mine,” Ashford told her and tried to reach for me again. “She leaves with me.”
One of the men put his hand on Ashford’s shoulder in warning.
“The claim on an omega is only as strong as the alpha that holds it,” she said before speaking to the muscle, or maybe her personal guards, whatever he was, who had taken hold of Ashford. “Release him,” she ordered, and Ashford was released. “Now do you wish to challenge me?” she asked Ashford.
Challenge her? For me?
I watched as Ashford’s face scrunched in anger and embarrassment, and he looked over his shoulder at the men who had escorted us here.
“I assure you, my men will not interfere; it would be a… well, not fair or equal but an uninhibited fight,” she reassured.
“What do you even want with her?” he demanded, but he made no move to meet her challenge.
Wouldn’t he fight for me?
Was he just going to allow this stranger to take me?
Ashford was vile, but he kept me safe. I washisomega. So long as I belonged to him, I was safe, relatively, infinitely safer than on my own.
“To teach you a lesson and ensure compliance. I’m not unreasonable. I know that Pack Blizzard plans to attend the National Assembly, and I assume you will accompany your father.” Ashford nodded in confirmation. “If your father makes some other agreeable arrangement, you can have her back… if I’m feeling generous,” she answered.
“You’re a bitch.” He spat on the polished flooring.
The show of such disrespect made me nauseous.
She laughed and nodded to her men, who promptly dragged Ashford back to the lift.
“I’ll see you at the National Assembly,” she said before the lift door closed.
The silence that followed the closing of the lift doors was somehow loud; it felt like it echoed inside my head, broken only by the pounding of my heart.
“The sun will rise in a few hours,” she said.
I didn’t respond; I could only stare at her shoes—brown leather loafers.
What had just happened?
What was going to happen to me now?
“I’m Cole of Sandstorm,” she introduced herself.
I looked up then, recognising the name but not expecting the woman before me to own it.
She wastheStorm of Sandstorm?
