And there’s no one here to save me.
My mother died when I was a baby. I have no siblings, no friends who would dare cross my father.
There is only my father.
An angry, cold alpha who has been counting down the days until he can finally be rid of me.
Another cramp twists through me, deeper this time, and I press my forehead against the glass, the chill grounding and cruel all at once.
The aching emptiness grows inside me, a hollow, needy void that’s instantly terrifying. It’s a deep, pulsing want, a biological command to be claimed and mated.
I can’t believe I let my suppressants lapse.
It’s been so long since I’ve suffered through a heat that I forgot how horrible the pain is. It’s not just a cramp. It’s a soul-deep agony that’s only going to get worse.
I need to get out of here before my primal urges take over, and I fall to my knees and beg to be filled. The thought of being mated by the alpha down the hall is so repulsive that it makes me gag.
I don’t want him.
I don’t want any of this.
Moving slowly, I take a small step back from the window. My body trembles hard as I fight the growing pain inside me.
Desperate, I turn and run toward the door.
I have to get out of here before I lose what’s left of my mind.
I have to try to find an omega clinic, a place where they might help me ride out this growing need. It’s too late for a suppressant, but maybe they’ll be able to sedate.
Maybe…
I just pray no one finds me before I get there.
Chapter Two
Pace
The door of the bar swings shut behind me, cutting off the thumping bass and the cloying scent of expensive perfume.
Outside, the night air is cool and clean, smelling of wet pavement and distant rain. I’m in a good mood. A damn good mood. Some trust fund baby with more money than sense just paid me a small fortune to put a bullet in his business rival. Easiest fifty grand I’ve ever made.
I tighten my grip on the fat envelope as I pick up my pace. I’m not worried about anyone snatching it out of my hand. I’m a big fucker with broad shoulders and a chest thick with muscle.
I turn the corner, and a couple of betas scurry out of my path, their heads down. A middle-aged woman glances up as I approach. Her body goes stiff, her eyes widen as she takes in my size. Then she darts across the street without lookingback, nearly stepping into traffic just to avoid passing too close.
It takes everything in me not to laugh.
Just then, the sky opens up, and a light rain starts to fall. I tilt my head back, letting the cool drops hit my face. It feels good, washing away the stale scent of the bar.
All around me, high-rises stab at the clouds, their windows glowing like warm, arrogant eyes. Rich assholes living in glass cages, looking down on the rest of us. People who don’t know what it’s like to have to fight for every breath.
I pass a couple of sterile, multi-story parking garages, their automated gates blinking with sterile blue light. I’d never pay for parking.
That’s a sucker’s game. I keep walking, my boots splashing in the puddles forming on the sidewalk, until I reach the alley I know. It’s dark, narrow, and smells like garbage and mold. My kind of place.
Tucked away at the very back, almost invisible in the shadows, is my car. An old, black muscle car that doesn’t belong in this pristine neighborhood.
I pull out my keys and hit the unlock button. The headlights flash, cutting through the darkness and illuminating the falling rain and the slick, wet brick of the alley walls. I reach for the driver’s side door, and that’s when I hear it.
