Holy. Shit.
I stared at her. That scent.
A rumble of need rolled up my chest.
She was… mine. Like actually mine.
Ours.
A scent match.
Fuck. Me.
I felt the dregs of sanity that tenuously tethered my mind to this reality instantly drain away.
7
SIN
I wasn’t stupid.
I knew Phantom was right. I just didn’t care. One way or another, we would find a way out of this.
I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t been about Holden at the start. It had been about him right up until the moment I jammed the gun under his chin and caught sight of her golden eyes. Saw her up close. And for the first time since being thrown down here, when my lips had met hers, Holden hadn’t even existed.
It wasn’t a mistake, but it meant I had to pivot, fast.
As we walked down the grungy, worn stone hallways, my mind raced through options.
As expected, the news had already spread. There were more than a few eyes fixed on us as we walked. Leering alphas in the doorframes of their rooms, or pausing mid dice-game, crowded around rickety wooden tables.
The Cimmerian Vaults were located in a storm prone area on an oceanfront. The walls were thick, but not thick enough to mask the faint rolls of thunder.
I welcomed them.
A tether to the world outside.
We had very few of those in here. The few barred windows, that were high on the walls since we were in the basement floor, were hotspots for territory feuds I had no room for.
The Emerald pack was large, with eight members—which was common in a place like this. It meant Bug and Rick could be spared, since two of us wandering about after an event like Crescent was a recipe for death. And there were six members of their pack left across the hall from our cell while we were gone. No one knew if the gun was with Karma or me, which was another level of protection.
I could never trust a pack that large, but a four person pack like ours left us vulnerable. And we were underdogs for more than just that. It was why I worked overtime to pull my weight.
The gun was with me. Tucked away in one of the few places I kept it. Strapped to my leg, beneath my sweatpants. It was small enough to not be noticeable—or easily misidentified as a knife.
“I guess tonight’s off,” Bug said, glancing back at me.
I cocked an eyebrow. No, I wouldn’t spend the evening fucking his omega in a cage for them to watch.
Bug, who was a usually cheery, lumberjack-looking alpha with a large ginger beard, raised his hands defensively. “Can’t hurt to ask.”
“Wait.” Rick looked back. “Does that mean it’s over… forever?”
“I have my own omega to take care of,” I said.
“Where are you gonna get our favours from, then?” Bug asked.
I snorted. “Ask me again when you’ve caught up on the debt you already have.”