“Yup,” I retorted through gritted teeth.
“You need to leave the country. Get out of their scope of reach.”
Thanks for the tip. I bit back the sarcastic words.
I raked my hand through my hair and slid between two buildings to lean against the wall. “After you’ve gotten lost somewhere, email me a place I can meet you. I have to go.” With those final words, the call cut off.
“Fuck,” I spat, and my hands shook. What if he was already calling the police? I couldn’t let the stress overwhelm me. After a few tries, I popped the little SIM card out of the phone and stomped on it, then I did the same to the cell phone.
Flee the U.S.?
Nausea swirled in my stomach, and my temples pounded. I didn’t know if Sam would turn me in. I didn’t think so, but I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in months.
I had to leave, but I didn’t know anyone, and for the first time, my antisocial ass rued not having connections further than acquaintances.
I exhaled slowly.
There was no doubt my passport had been flagged; I’d need to find another way out of here . . . and there was only one pack I knew with that much pull and money . . .
I’d never met them in person, but the lack of physical interaction hadn’t failed to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. After publishing the exposé on them, they’d sent their lawyer, a brutish Alpha, to make it very clear what would happen to me if I ever stuck my nose in Greymont Pack business again.
All the threat did was confirm that everything I’d written on them was true. They just had enough power to get away with it. Assholes with too much money and connections,so many connections. That was what I needed to be smuggled out of the country.
No! I couldn’t go to them.
I slowed my quick pace as the group of women in front of me took a sharp turn into the bar. I kept my head turned away.
I wrung my hands together. I didn’t have anyone, and if I were caught, I’d be tossed in a cell. The punishment for “harming an Omega without cause,” as they painted it, was a death sentence.
I was out of options.
If I wanted a chance at survival, I had to ask those lawless bastards for help.
Chapter 2
As exhausted as I was, I couldn’t stop pacing a hole into the lobby floor. Dark gray walls combined with the sultry beat, pumping from somewhere beyond the reception area, created an elusive ambiance. In the last few hours, I had no idea how many people had entered the strip club. Alphas, Betas, and even a sprinkle of Omegas, but the population leaned more toward Alphas. Which made sense considering who the owners were.
Instead of asking for them when I arrived, I should have just strutted in like a patron. I raked my hand through my hair, and even though I used my other arm, a pinch assaulted my wounded bicep. I hadn’t even had a chance to take a look at it, but at least it had settled into a dull throb.
It was the adrenaline keeping the agony at bay.
In a few strides, I was in front of the booth, and I cleared my throat. The receptionist tapped at her cell phone and finallylifted her eyes to stare at me blankly, her eyebrow raised. I gritted my teeth.I have to calm down. Cerulean hanging lights cast a shadow over her brunette hair.
“Can you please check for an ETA again?” I insisted, trying not to spit the words at her. She looked at me like I was some sort of groupie. Having me sit out here for hours had done away with my patience, and my desperation was only increasing.
“I already told you, ma’am, they’re busy. I recommend you come another time.”
Ma’am?
Ma’am!?
Enough with her talking at me in circles.
“Listen,” I hissed, slapping my palm on the surface of the desk. “Take me to see them right fucking now, or so help me?—”
A grip fastened behind my neck, and I had no choice but to stumble in the direction it pulled. Instead of being dragged toward the glass doors leading out of the strip club, I was hauled down a dark hall to the left of the reception booth. Heady Alpha scent played along my nose, a shiver coasting down my spine at his harsh touch. I writhed to loosen his grip the slightest bit, but it didn’t work. I let him take me, counting to ten. He would only get that many seconds before I fought back.
At exactly eight seconds, he rounded a corner, and the strip of dim lights lining the top of the wall flashed across his face. Dark hair, a bronze complexion . . .Kyan Greymont.
