A neon sign buzzes above a bar, casting blue and red reflections in the puddles. Should I bunker down at the docks and wait for sunrise to call my cousin, Kyle? I can sleep on the couch until I figure out a new place to stay.
“Hey, aren’t you that Alpha from the video?”
The shout cuts through the drizzle, and I freeze mid-step, water dripping from my hair into my eyes.
“Holy shit, it is!” Another voice, deeper than the first. “Predator boy!”
I turn toward the shout. Three men step from a recessed doorway, emerging from shadows into the bleeding colors of the neon sign. The tallest holds a phone, its screen illuminating him from below in ghostly blue light.
“Didn’t think we’d see you here, huh?” The one with the phone tilts his head, camera lens catchingthe streetlight. “Thought you’d slink back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
I back up, hands raised, palms out. “I don’t want trouble.”
The shortest of the three snorts, vapor clouding from his nostrils in the cold air. “Should’ve thought about that before you went after an Omega.”
“That’s not what happened.” My pulse hammers, and I glance over my shoulder, only to find a chain-link fence blocking off the end of the alley. “There’s a video showing the truth?—”
“We saw the truth.” Phone-guy steps closer, his breath reeking of beer and cigarettes. “Got a hundred thousand views, didn’t it, boys?”
The trio spreads out, forming a loose half-circle to block off escape. The back of my neck prickles with animal awareness of a trap closing.
“I’m just passing through.” I keep my tone non-threatening. “Let’s all go home and sleep it off.”
A shove comes from my right, the shortest man’s palms connecting with my shoulder. The contact seems almost playful, testing. I stumble but remain standing, water splashing around my feet.
“You hear that? He wants us to sleep it off.” The middle one laughs, the sound echoing off brick walls. “Like we’re the problem here.”
The second shove catches me off guard, harderthan the first, fingers digging into muscle. My back hits the wall of a building, rough brick scraping through my wet jacket.
“Stop.” My hands rise again in a universal plea. “This isn’t necessary.”
Phone-guy moves in closer, the device in his hand tilted toward my face. “How about making some new content by apologizing to every Omega in town?”
His friends laugh, the sound ricocheting down the empty street.
“Please.” I try to keep eye contact, to humanize myself. “Those rumors are all lies.”
“Sure they are.” The tallest one’s lip curls. “We know what you did.”
“I didn’t?—”
The shortest one cracks his knuckles one by one. “Sounds like he needs to be taught what happens to Alphas who touch Omegas.”
The first punch comes from the side, a flash of movement in my peripheral vision that connects with my jaw before I can duck. Pain explodes through my head, bright and metallic. My head snaps back, connecting with the brick, and stars burst behind my eyelids.
Blood fills my mouth, penny-bright on my tongue. My vision clears in time to see the secondswing coming. I block this one, forearm connecting with forearm, the impact jarring up to my shoulder.
My fist drives into someone’s stomach, the middle guy, I think, and he grunts, doubling over. But then the shortest grabs my collar, fabric twisting in his grip, and slams me back against the wall.
His sour breath hits my face. “Not so tough now, huh?”
I try to speak, to reason with them, but words die as another fist drives into my ribs, and air whooshes from my lungs in a painful gasp.
“Smile for the camera.” Phone-guy continues filming. “Let’s see you look innocent now.”
Rain mixes with sweat and blood, running in rivulets down my neck, soaking my collar. Another blow lands on my cheek, splitting skin, and my knees buckle.
“Can’t even stand up for yourself.” The shortest man laughs. “Some Alpha you are.”