Page 76 of Bad Blood Alpha

Bad Bloods felt. Bad Bloods loved.

Bad Bloods protected each other. They fought to the end—bloodied but unbroken.

Never give up. Never say die.

The bug moved again, and Flynn squeezed his ankles together viciously. He felt its hard outside shell crack, the soft, gooey insides trickling down his skin.

A shell couldn’t protect you forever. Not when the world was full of rocks and hard places.

He felt inside him for Kira’s dragon power, for his own strength. For the magic Israel Jonas had gifted him when he claimed his territory, and for the power that fueled that magic—the heart and soul of the Bad Blood Crew.

Slowly, slowly, he used his magic to burn away the drug, the icy darkness, the despair. Dim and far away, he felt his lion return to consciousness inside him, heard him roar.

Wake up, brother, he told it. We’re going hunting.

His lion burst from his skin, breaking the bonds on his wrists and ankles. His huge body nearly filled the small room.

Flynn eyed the grating above him. It was too far, but it was the only way out.

He fixed his mind on Kira. Her strength, her courage, her sassy, sexy mouth. Her taut muscles and silky skin.

Her vulnerability, and her fighting spirit.

Her love.

He leaped for the grate, came short, and fell back down.

He tried again, and again, his claws scraping down the stone wall.

Again. One claw caught the metal mesh, but there wasn’t enough leverage. He fell again, blood trickling down his paw.

Focus.

He regrouped, leaped, scrabbled at the wall. And fell.

Again.

And again.

And again.