It wasn’t a great position to be in. Loyalty and honour were the weakest of the currencies that flowed through Anarchy.
Man power and aura strength were stronger tools to barter with—but not ones we were top of the list on. Karma’s aura waspotent as fuck, but it couldn’t make up for us having such a small pack.
Another big one was illusion, and that was where I was going to have to do some work.
Not all alliances like ours with the Emerald pack were visible. Debts were kept secret as often as they were announced. Which meant it was impossible to know how much aid a pack would get if someone started a feud.
My one rule was the most important, though: any show of weakness would instantly annihilate any assets I thought I had.
“You and Karma have any more jobs on retainer?” I asked Phantom, voice low enough that no one else would hear.
Both Phantom and Karma were vicious. Karma’s aura was almost unmatched in this place, and Phantom, who’d grown up on the New Oxford streets, was a better technical fighter than most here.
“Couple. I can try to change the terms to something a little more… protection oriented, but we don’t exactly offer unique services, do we?”
The unspoken half of his words hung between us.
Not like I did.
I knew it grated at Phantom and Karma that my value in Anarchy revolved around sex. I wrinkled my nose, a snarl tugging at the edge of my lips.
Grated at me, too.
Everyone wanted afuckingshow.
Well. It was almost over and I’d get some peace and fucking quiet in a life on the other side that I was too afraid to even begin to imagine.
I stifled my irritation, though, as we reached the Redgrave’s room.
It was off the main square, which was a stupid name for the large open space in the middle of Anarchy, since it was a huge circle.
Out here, alphas played dice and card games. A large pit in the centre of the room held two fighting alphas—one of a bunch of places where fights often broke out—and another million stares were fixed our way.
Bug knocked on the Redgrave door before returning to glaring at any alpha who was looking too hard.
There was a bang, and the door swung open.
Ezra, a mute alpha with a brutal aura, and a missing eye covered with a ratty patch, was most commonly found at their door. He was lounging on a stool at the entrance, working with charcoal on a small piece of paper. He barely spared us a nod, which was as much of an invite as we’d get.
The room within was a spectacle, as usual. It had enough beds for a fourteen member pack, though the Redgrave pack was only ten strong.
Half of the others were out right now, but that left enough to guard the two spare bunks that were stacked with their current wares.
We got very little delivered down to Anarchy. There was a stock locker through which we were sent things like food, clothing, hygiene supplies, scent dampeners, and drugs for ruts, sedation, and pack bonding. Before my time, there’d been a pack who’d had full claim over the locker, but the hoarding of all the supplies had ended in a fight bloody enough that Anarchy’s population shrank by a tenth.
Now, the Redgrave pack got first dibs on deliveries as long as they didn’t touch the food and essentials. In exchange, they used their connections to barter for the occasional extra from the guys upstairs. I didn’t know how they were able to, but that secret made them one of the most protected packs in Anarchy.
So on the bed was an assortment of items people came to the Redgraves for: spray paints, cigarettes and a few bottles of pills, sketchbooks and pencils, insulin, and a row of knives alongside other weapons.
It was where I’d got the gun.
Dominic Redgrave himself had come to me with the request, and it wasn’t one I’d been able to decline. Matt wasn’t my type of omega, exactly, but there were levels I would stoop to for a gun. Not that even Karma and Phantom got the details of that.
It was the only absolute protection between me and Holden if everything else were to fall apart—and this trade, this one was my choice. Plus, I had been able to set some of my own boundaries. Like which kind of weapons had been allowed into that cage.
It also hadn’t exactly hurt my reputation—one I cultivated very carefully to survive. I might have come out on top that night, but there were still scars I carried.
Scars Dominic Redgrave admired every time he saw me.